bother him.
“No,” he finally blurted out. “I didn’t.”
Then he crawled back in bed with her.
“Not everything,” he lied.
CHAPTER 14
T HE AIRCATS UNIT CONSISTED of three squadrons of twelve airplanes apiece.
Thirty of the three dozen aircraft were literally F-38G2 “Lightning AirCats.” The big twin-engine, twin-tail jet fighter looked both antique and futuristic. Straight-winged but incredibly agile, oversized but astonishingly fast, it carried no less than a dozen cannons on its wings and nose, and boasted the ability to lug five thousand pounds of ordnance in its small bomb bay.
The other six planes flown by the unit were known as B-6J3 “HellJets.” Technically this odd airplane was a medium bomber. It was three times the size of an AirCat and in some ways resembled the famous Mitchell B-25 bomber of another place. But instead of two propellers, the HellJet had four huge double-reaction engines slung beneath its wings. Each plane carried a crew of thirteen, had no less than nine gun turrets on its body, belly, nose, and tail, and could carry many pounds of bombs within its large internal bomb bay.
The HellJet was the size of a small airliner, but oddly, one of its fortes was the long-lost art of dive-bombing. To be on the receiving end of a HellJet’s dive-bombing run was indeed a hellish experience—and usually, the last for the victim. In other places a dive-bomber’s objective was to get just one bomb on a target. The way to do this was simple: find the target, go into a dive, release your bomb, pull up, and let gravity do the rest. If you were good, the bomb would more or less fall straight down and nail your objective.
The HellJet followed this same tactic, but on a much larger scale. Under the right conditions the stocky bomber was capable of carrying up to thirty thousand pounds of bombs, due mostly to its solid construction and its enormous double-reaction power plants. While the airplane could carry and drop this ordnance in the standard way—arrive near target, sight it, drop the load, and cross your fingers—the plane’s designers had built in an additional devilish element, which allowed the HellJet a second way to bomb something or someone into oblivion. The designers had worked a long trail of edge flaps into the HellJet’s wings. When deployed, they gave the huge airplane a degree of maneuverability while in a perilous dive—a plunge that usually started somewhere above 25,000 feet and reached high supersonic speeds on the way down. After this mind-bending drop, and once the bombs were let go, these edges were lifted slightly, giving the airplane the ability to pull out of what would normally be a fatal dive, hopefully in enough time to escape the blast effects of fifteen tons of high explosives hitting in a very concentrated area.
This was heart-stopping, stomach-churning stuff, but the AirCat mercenary group had never been accused of being shy about tactics or strategies. Just the fact that the air group had six of these airplanes, and the will to use them, was usually enough to make any potential opponent think twice about running up against them.
So it was with great anticipation that those gathered on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier awaited the air merc unit to come aboard.
Zoltan and Crabb were there, as were most of the Unit 167 guys, tug crew members, and even some hookers. In fact, just about everyone connected with the mission had come out to see the unusual air unit’s arrival—except Y, who had fallen back to sleep.
The scheduled time for the AirCats to come aboard was 0900 hours, and sure enough, at the stroke of nine bells, the sullen roar of an approaching aircraft could be heard.
It was the lead/scout AirCat, a slightly larger version of the fighter bomber. The plane came out of the morning clouds, dropping very fast, heading for the end of the stationary carrier. The AirCat was really a huge airplane and the carrier was actually a smallish air
“No,” he finally blurted out. “I didn’t.”
Then he crawled back in bed with her.
“Not everything,” he lied.
CHAPTER 14
T HE AIRCATS UNIT CONSISTED of three squadrons of twelve airplanes apiece.
Thirty of the three dozen aircraft were literally F-38G2 “Lightning AirCats.” The big twin-engine, twin-tail jet fighter looked both antique and futuristic. Straight-winged but incredibly agile, oversized but astonishingly fast, it carried no less than a dozen cannons on its wings and nose, and boasted the ability to lug five thousand pounds of ordnance in its small bomb bay.
The other six planes flown by the unit were known as B-6J3 “HellJets.” Technically this odd airplane was a medium bomber. It was three times the size of an AirCat and in some ways resembled the famous Mitchell B-25 bomber of another place. But instead of two propellers, the HellJet had four huge double-reaction engines slung beneath its wings. Each plane carried a crew of thirteen, had no less than nine gun turrets on its body, belly, nose, and tail, and could carry many pounds of bombs within its large internal bomb bay.
The HellJet was the size of a small airliner, but oddly, one of its fortes was the long-lost art of dive-bombing. To be on the receiving end of a HellJet’s dive-bombing run was indeed a hellish experience—and usually, the last for the victim. In other places a dive-bomber’s objective was to get just one bomb on a target. The way to do this was simple: find the target, go into a dive, release your bomb, pull up, and let gravity do the rest. If you were good, the bomb would more or less fall straight down and nail your objective.
The HellJet followed this same tactic, but on a much larger scale. Under the right conditions the stocky bomber was capable of carrying up to thirty thousand pounds of bombs, due mostly to its solid construction and its enormous double-reaction power plants. While the airplane could carry and drop this ordnance in the standard way—arrive near target, sight it, drop the load, and cross your fingers—the plane’s designers had built in an additional devilish element, which allowed the HellJet a second way to bomb something or someone into oblivion. The designers had worked a long trail of edge flaps into the HellJet’s wings. When deployed, they gave the huge airplane a degree of maneuverability while in a perilous dive—a plunge that usually started somewhere above 25,000 feet and reached high supersonic speeds on the way down. After this mind-bending drop, and once the bombs were let go, these edges were lifted slightly, giving the airplane the ability to pull out of what would normally be a fatal dive, hopefully in enough time to escape the blast effects of fifteen tons of high explosives hitting in a very concentrated area.
This was heart-stopping, stomach-churning stuff, but the AirCat mercenary group had never been accused of being shy about tactics or strategies. Just the fact that the air group had six of these airplanes, and the will to use them, was usually enough to make any potential opponent think twice about running up against them.
So it was with great anticipation that those gathered on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier awaited the air merc unit to come aboard.
Zoltan and Crabb were there, as were most of the Unit 167 guys, tug crew members, and even some hookers. In fact, just about everyone connected with the mission had come out to see the unusual air unit’s arrival—except Y, who had fallen back to sleep.
The scheduled time for the AirCats to come aboard was 0900 hours, and sure enough, at the stroke of nine bells, the sullen roar of an approaching aircraft could be heard.
It was the lead/scout AirCat, a slightly larger version of the fighter bomber. The plane came out of the morning clouds, dropping very fast, heading for the end of the stationary carrier. The AirCat was really a huge airplane and the carrier was actually a smallish air
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