Merciless
V Plague Book Eleven
DIRK PATTON
Text Copyright © 2016 by Dirk Patton
Copyright © 2016 by Dirk Patton
All Rights Reserved
This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright holder or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a critical book review.
Published by Voodoo Dog Publishing, LLC
2824 N Power Road
Suite #113-256
Mesa, AZ 85215
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1530450701
ISBN-10: 1530450705
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, brands, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Also by Dirk Patton
The V Plague Series
Unleashed: V Plague Book 1
Crucifixion: V Plague Book 2
Rolling Thunder: V Plague Book 3
Red Hammer: V Plague Book 4
Transmission: V Plague Book 5
Rules Of Engagement: A John Chase Short Story
Days Of Perdition: V Plague Book 6
Indestructible: V Plague Book 7
Recovery: V Plague Book 8
Precipice: V Plague Book 9
Anvil: V Plague Book 10
Merciless: V Plague Book 11
Other Titles
36: A Novel
Author’s Note
Thank you for purchasing Merciless, Book 11 in the V Plague series. If you haven’t read the first ten books you need to stop reading now and pick them up, otherwise you will be utterly lost as this book is intended to continue the story in a serialized format. I intentionally did nothing to explain comments and events that reference books 1 through 10. Regardless, you have my heartfelt thanks for reading my work and I hope you’re enjoying the adventure as much as I am. As always, a good review on Amazon is greatly appreciated.
You can always correspond with me via email at
[email protected]
and find me on the internet at
www.dirkpatton.com
and follow me on Twitter @DirkPatton and if you’re on Facebook, please like my page at
www.facebook.com/FearThePlague
.
Thanks again for reading!
Dirk Patton
March, 2016
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries
Fall Out Boy –
Centuries
1
“What do you want?” Russian Admiral Chirkov asked.
Packard smiled a tight smile when he heard the question.
“All Russians off US soil immediately. Full withdrawal of your military to within your borders and a cessation of all hostilities. If I so much as think I hear a submarine coming shallow to launch a missile, I’ll rain fire on you until there’s not a fucking thing left. And turn that goddamn plane around that’s carrying Major Chase. I want him back on US soil. Now!”
There was a loud click followed by a brief electronic squeal.
“What happened?” Admiral Packard asked the comms specialist.
“He disconnected, sir,” the woman answered.
His face clouded over in anger as he turned to Jessica.
“Seaman. Load the next four targets into the system, but hold for my order,” he barked.
“Aye, sir. Next four targets are loaded and holding for your order,” Jessica answered smartly.
“Commander,” the Admiral snapped. “Are you tracking Admiral Chirkov’s plane?”
“Yes, sir,” the man answered immediately. “It departed McChord Air Force Base, near Seattle, two hours and eleven minutes ago. It was inbound to Oahu, but while you were speaking with the Admiral it turned. Currently, it is over the Pacific, nine-hundred miles southwest of Seattle.”
“Do we have any surviving assets in the area?” Packard asked.
“Both carrier strike groups were severely damaged and are not combat capable. The aircraft they launched diverted to Alaska or California, depending on their targets, after delivering their strike packages. They are currently on the ground at Edwards and Elmendorf Air Force Bases.”
“Scramble them,” Packard ordered.
“Aye, sir,” the Commander said, motioning to a Chief Petty Officer to transmit an alert. “Their orders?”
“Splash Admiral Chirkov’s plane. And force the one carrying Major Chase to land or return. Be sure they understand there’s an American on board and they cannot engage the aircraft.”
“Understood, sir.”
The Commander turned and leaned over the CPO’s station, quietly issuing specific instructions to be passed on to the fighter pilots. He finished quickly, all eyes turning to watch one of the large monitors at the front of the room. Within seconds, the two Air Force Bases were highlighted with blue, pulsing dots.
Only a few minutes later, two adjacent screens changed to show satellite views of both locations as Navy jets streaked down the runways and into the air. Two squadrons from Edwards, in California, turned north. A large KC-135 tanker was already orbiting and they quickly queued up and refueled.
Tanks topped off, they spread out as the pilots shoved the throttles to the firewall. Rings of white vapor appeared around each aircraft as one by one they broke the sound barrier in pursuit of the plane carrying Russian Admiral of the Fleet, Chirkov. Over the frozen forests of Alaska, two more squadrons rocketed to the northeast. Chasing the plane carrying the Major.
“Sir, the flight leader of the squadron in pursuit of Major Chase’s plane is asking for clarification of his orders. If they are unable to force the plane to turn around or land, are they to allow it to continue into Russian airspace?”
Packard drew a deep breath and held it as he thought. He had started his career in the cockpit of an F-4 Phantom, flying bombing missions over the jungles of Viet Nam. Had been within a month of forced retirement when the attacks had occurred. He’d battled Russian Migs, flown by North Vietnamese pilots. He’d been shot down and spent two years as a guest at the Hanoi Hilton. More than anyone, he knew how difficult it could be to force another aircraft to do something when you couldn’t use your weapons.
“Put the flight leader on speaker,” Packard finally said.
A moment later, the roar from inside the cockpit of an F-18 filled the room at Pearl Harbor. The Commander informed the flight leader that CINCPACFLT actual wanted to speak with him.
“Lieutenant Commander Hervis, sir,” the Commander said to Packard in a quiet voice, letting him know the pilot’s name.
“Commander, can you hear me?” Packard asked loudly, making sure the microphone could clearly pick up his voice.
“Affirmative, sir. Five by five.”
“Commander, I realize the difficult situation I’m putting you in. Sending you into a hairy situation with your hands tied behind your back. However, you’re a Navy pilot. You and your flight are the smartest, most capable and best trained pilots in the world. I am confident you will succeed in forcing that Russian bastard to land or turn around.
“I do not want you to lose sight of the fact that there’s an American Army Major on board that plane. He’s one of us, and I’ll be goddamned if the fucking Russians are going to get to keep him. However, you cannot fire on that aircraft and risk his life. Whatever else you can do is authorized. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” the pilot answered.
“One final thing, Commander. You are not to sacrifice yourself or one of your men. We’re not trading a life for a life. Do what you have to, but bring everyone home.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
“Godspeed, Commander,” Packard said, then made a slashing gesture across his throat to tell the comms specialist to cut the connection.
It was quiet in the room for a few moments as everyone absorbed what the Admiral had just said. As much as they all wanted the Major safely returned, they recognized and understood the orders Packard had issued. Those of them that had been in combat also understood that the pilots would ignore their own safety to rescue their fellow American.
“How long to intercept?” Packard asked.
“Eighty-eight minutes to Admiral Chirkov’s plane, two hours and three minutes to the aircraft carrying Major Chase,” the Tactical Action Officer (TAO) answered immediately.
“What’s the Major’s location?”
“The Russian plane is flying a great circle route, sir. From Idaho, they headed north, northeast. Over Canada to approach the pole and curve over northern Greenland to reach Moscow. At the moment, it’s approaching the Northwestern Passage.”
“Where will we intercept?”
“Estimated point of intercept is over Baffin Bay. That’s if they remain unaware of our pursuit and do not change their heading or speed.”
“Very well. Commander, I’m going to step out for…”
Packard was cut off by a shout from Jessica who was intently watching a monitor on her station.
“Sir! I’ve got movement on the ground at target Alpha Seven!”
Packard and the Commander rushed to her station to see the screen. She was looking at an image from a satellite over Russia, zoomed onto a seemingly empty stretch of the vast steppes that stretched to the east of Moscow.
At first, the Admiral didn’t see anything, then a glint of light caught his eye. A large, multi-wheeled truck was slowly emerging from underground, driving up a gently sloping ramp from where it had been hidden beneath the featureless terrain. A long trailer with a fat missile was being pulled into the open.
“What’s Alpha Seven?” He asked Jessica.
“High probability nuclear, sir,” she answered. “The location was identified and tagged by the Defense Intelligence Agency two years ago.”
“Can you target and deliver a Thor payload before they can launch?”
“Unknown, sir. I don’t know the specs on the missile, so I can’t estimate how long it will take them. But I can sure try.”
Jessica’s fingers were already flying across her keyboard. In less than a minute, she received confirmation that one of the orbiting Thor satellites had locked on to the target and was ready to release one of its rods.