"Naval aviators have to figure out where their landing field went after they fly away. Or worse, if it sank. Pilots know their landing field's right where they left it."

"Not a big fan of the air force, then, huh?"

"I didn't say that. But I've never met an air force pilot who could stop a train without using guns or bombs."

"Stop a train? What do you mean?"

"You got time for a story?"

Diaz looked around. "I'm stuck here for twenty-something hours till we reach the strait."

"Right. Okay, so once you solo at Pensacola, the unwritten rule is you got three days to stop a train. You can't do it before you solo because it ain't legal, and up till then you always had some hard-ass instructor riding along."

"So how exactly do you do this?"

"Well, if you never noticed, Florida's flat, so it's easy to find a nice twenty- to twenty-five-mile stretch of railroad track to watch. And here he comes, Seaboard Coast Line's seven ten P.M., running late."

"But you're right on time," she said with a smirk.

"You bet. Now I have to come in high to clear the pines. At the last minute I slip down, opposite rudder to aileron--drops my bird like a rock--and I turn off my navigation lights, bleed off speed to just 120 knots--flap speed--and swoop in twenty feet over the track."

"Is this where I go, whoa . . . ?"

"Let me finish. Then, and only then, I turn on my landing light. Now it's just me and that train, two lights coming right at each other."

"You really did this?"

He nodded. "The engineer sees that single light coming at him and he's wondering, Did the traffic coordinator screw up? Switchman error? Is it another one of those crazy kids from Pensacola? He hits the brakes, can't take the chance. As he's listening to his whole train rumble and screech, I thunder right over his head, gone, UFO style, beam me up, Scotty."

Moch was only half as cute now. It was hard to see his eyes within that swollen head. "There's no way you guys get away with that."

"You're right. I got a letter of reprimand, which got pulled when I graduated, because the navy saw I was crazy enough to get shot off an aircraft carrier."

"So as a reward they put you on a sub. Yeah, they really like you." She wiggled her brows.

"No, I'm here because of you. Lieutenant Schumaker and I are flying the Predator. I'm telling you, she's one badass little bird."

Diaz had worked with all sorts of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) in her career, and none were what she'd describe as badass. That was a phrase she reserved for people, not machines. She shrugged and said, "Uh, we've packed our own UAVs. As a matter of fact, the captain's going to field a brand-new drone on this mission."