Contents ( 55)
- In Memoriam
- Epigraph
- Cast of Characters
- Americans
- Russians
- Canadian
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Weapons and Acronyms
- Weapons
- Acronyms
- About the Author
- Also by Dale Brown
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
Dazed, Flynn slowly raised his head and looked behind him. The HC-130J was slowing fast as it neared the end of the runway. Painfully, he levered himself back up to his knees.
“Ow,” Hynes said, sounding aggrieved. “Geez, that fucking hurt.” His eyes focused on the man who’d just knocked him on his ass. “Uh, I mean, that fucking hurt, sir.”
“Yeah, I bet it did,” Flynn agreed with a wide grin. He climbed back to his feet and then helped the enlisted man up. He nodded toward where the big four-engine turboprop had finally come to a stop with its propellers still turning, just before it ran out of runway and risked skidding off across the icy tundra. “But maybe not as much as getting sliced into a bazillion pieces by one of those propeller blades, right?”
“No, sir,” Hynes agreed fervently. “And thanks for not letting me get killed, sir.”
“Too much paperwork involved, PFC,” Flynn said, still smiling. “Fortunately for you, I’m lazy that way.”
About an hour later, once they’d finished helping the HC-130J’s aircrew tie their big plane down and cover its engine cowlings and sensor pods against possible flying ice and hail damage, Flynn had time to welcome the two Air National Guard pilots and their staff sergeant loadmaster a little more formally. Which, since they were all exhausted and freezing, pretty much consisted of a quick handshake and nod across the aisle of the bus as it drove away from the airport.
“Skater and I sure appreciate your guys’ hard work out there, Nick,” Ingalls told him tiredly. “If we’d had to try setting down with all that FOD still littering the runway, we’d have been in a world of hurt.”
“Heck, I’ve been wanting to add my own aviation component to this half-assed command,” Flynn said. “Now it looks like I’m finally getting my wish.”
The copilot, a pretty brunette named Van Horn, choked back a laugh. “Just until the weather clears enough for JBER to fly in mechanics and spare parts to fix that dud engine of ours,” she warned.
Flynn peered out through the windshield. Even with the headlights, it was now basically impossible to see more than a couple of dozen yards, if that. The brief lull in the storm was over and they were trapped again in the heart of a blizzard howling across the treeless, little island at full force. “That could be a while,” he commented mildly.
The others nodded. “Welcome to winter in Alaska,” Ingalls agreed with resignation. “Starts in the fall and doesn’t end until sometime around summer. I figure we’re probably stuck here for at least a couple of days, maybe more.”
“Well, it’s not all that bad around here,” Flynn told them.
Van Horn looked surprised. “It’s not?”
Flynn leaned back out of the way of the punch he thought might be coming his way in a second. “Nope,” he said wryly. “It’s much worse.”
“I would kill you for that,” Laura Van Horn said with an answering smile. “But I’m too darned tired. So maybe I’ll take my revenge later, Captain Flynn.”