Chapter 3 - The Device Beneath the Seat
“Everybody stop transmitting.”
My command came automatically.
Talon One obeyed before Vance could respond.
That surprised both of us.
I trimmed the Cessna level and twisted around enough to see the rear cabin.
The light blinked again.
Red.
Pause.
Red.
Pause.
Not explosive timing.
At least, not any pattern I recognized.
“Echo Actual,” Talon One said, “can you identify the device?”
“Not from here.”
“Do not manipulate it.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
Admiral Vance returned.
“Sarah, land immediately.”
“Where?”
“The carrier.”
I looked down at the enormous deck.
A Cessna 310 couldn't safely land there under normal circumstances.
Vance knew that.
“You want me to ditch beside the carrier?”
“We can recover you.”
“What about the airplane?”
No answer.
That told me everything.
They wanted the aircraft destroyed.
“Talon One,” I said, “what's your name?”
A pause.
“Captain Daniel Reeves.”
“Daniel, does your mission briefing say to preserve my aircraft?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“What does it say?”
“Neutralize potential airborne electronic penetration platform.”
There it was.
Not aircraft.
Platform.
They had been briefed to treat my Cessna as an electronic threat before identifying me.
Someone had known exactly what would happen.
“Daniel,” I said, “if I ditch, whatever evidence is aboard this airplane goes into three thousand feet of Atlantic.”
Vance interrupted.
“You are speculating.”
“Then order the fighters to escort me to the nearest civilian airport.”
“I cannot do that.”
“Why?”
“Operational security.”
I laughed once.
Coldly.
“You're more worried about secrecy than whatever someone planted in my aircraft.”
A new voice entered.
Female.
“Echo Actual, this is Commander Lena Ortiz, carrier intelligence.”
Vance reacted instantly.
“Commander, leave this channel.”
“No, sir.”
That changed the entire room I couldn't see.
Ortiz continued.
“Ma'am, we located the electronic signature coming from your aircraft. It matches an experimental intrusion beacon developed by Aegis Meridian.”
My hands went cold.
Rusk.
“What does it do?”
“It maps defensive sensor architecture when exposed to active military networks.”
Daniel swore quietly.
I understood immediately.
My civilian airplane hadn't accidentally entered a classified exercise.
It had been turned into an unwilling reconnaissance platform.
Aegis Meridian had apparently created technology capable of learning how American warships detected and classified unknown aircraft.
Then someone had placed it inside my Cessna and routed me directly over the fleet.
A real-world test.
Without authorization.
Without accountability.
And if the aircraft were destroyed afterward, there would be no evidence.
“Commander Ortiz,” I said, “who authorized the intercept?”
Silence.
“Answer.”
“A secure directive from Naval Special Programs.”
“Signed?”
Another pause.
“Admiral Thomas Vance.”
Daniel's fighter drifted farther away from me.
Vance spoke sharply.
“This channel is compromised.”
“No,” Ortiz replied. “I believe the operation is compromised.”
My pulse hammered.
For five years, I had believed Vance had helped protect me after Halberd.
He arranged my new identity.
He moved me into civilian life.
He had told me the people responsible were dead.
Maybe he hadn't hidden me from the enemy.
Maybe he had hidden me from investigators.
Another secure packet appeared.
Nathan again.
A document.
I opened it.
An after-action report.
Halberd.
But not the version I'd been shown.
The original mission objective had not been counterterrorism.
It had been recovery of stolen encryption software linked to Aegis Meridian's predecessor company.
Malcolm Rusk had been involved even then.
At the bottom was an authorization signature.
Thomas Vance.
I stared at the page.
Then at the carrier below.
Everything connected.
“Nathan,” I whispered, though he wasn't transmitting.
Daniel spoke.
“Ma'am, we're receiving new orders.”
“What orders?”
His answer came slowly.
“To force you below five thousand feet.”
“Why?”
Ortiz suddenly broke in.
“Don't descend.”
Vance shouted over her.
“Commander!”
Ortiz ignored him.
“Sarah, the device under your seat activates its high-power transmission cycle below five thousand.”
I looked at the altimeter.
Ten thousand feet.
If I descended, the beacon would finish whatever test it had been designed to perform.
And perhaps upload everything it learned.
Daniel understood too.
“My orders specifically say five thousand.”
The second F-22 pilot finally spoke.
“Same.”
Vance's voice became deadly calm.
“Captains, execute your orders.”
Neither fighter moved.
“Execute.”
Daniel remained beside me.
Then he said something that would end his career if Vance survived this scandal.
“Negative.”
The other pilot followed.
“Negative.”
Below us, the carrier began changing course.
And on my hidden radio, an entirely new contact appeared.
Not American.
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A distant signal had started listening to the beacon aboard my aircraft.
Someone outside the strike group knew it was here.
