Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

“ Streams one-one and one-two are in,” she transmitted.

Shore-based AAA arced over the Americans and black puffs bloomed above them as the fighter pilots kept one eye on the steering cues and one on the shore watching for SAM launches. In the roadstead to Río Salta were two ocean-going tankers and several smaller coastal tankers — they would be “caught” by this minefield. Annie thought about the adage that you could drop bags of flour in the water and tell the enemy they were mines, and the enemy had a decision to make. A wrong bet would lead to catastrophe for the unlucky ship assigned to take the gamble. In this case, however, the Americans were not taking half measures. Annie and the Streams would deliver their heavy mines on time, allowing them to rest on the sea floor precisely where they planned. There the mines would lie in wait for an acoustic or metal signature, or both.

A half ton of high explosive came off Annie’s left wing with a lurch, and her HUD steering then jumped to the next aimpoint thousands of feet ahead of her as the release cue marched down. Annie kept her thumb on the pickle switch as it did. Once the second mine fell away with a jolt, Annie pulled hard north as Jumpin’s last mine came off, leading him and the rest of the Streams away from Venezuelan offshore rigs a few miles on their nose. Splashes of AAA shells on the surface were scattered about. Annie saw nothing over her right shoulder as she left Río Salta in her rear view mirrors — no missile plumes, no jets. Calling off, she lit the burner cans and accelerated to.95 indicated mach, cracking the throttles back into midrange burner so Jumpin could hang on inside her turn. She waited to hear the last of the Stream aircraft call off as they raced north through the Gulf of Paria. When she heard the welcome “ Stream two-three and two-four off,” she safed her switches and concentrated on leading her charges through the narrow five-mile passage between Punta Peñas and Chacachacre, edging her formation close to Trinidad as she did.

Within three minutes, she was approaching the Boca de Navios passage, a watery valley with the rising terrain of Venezuela and Trinidad on each side. All the Streams were aboard and egressing, no hung weapons. The Arrows were also egressing north, high over Paria, while the suppression element returned to the east. At mast-top height Annie blew by an expensive looking sailboat, the passengers watching in astonishment as Jumpin hung on next to her. Once the Americans were safe in the open Atlantic, Annie entered a graceful climb away from the surface in an easy right turn. Through the brilliant puffy clouds she led them toward the waiting tankers. They would soon head home to Mother , their mission accomplished with no losses.

Wilson heard the sharp crack of a fighter cutting through the air at high speed and the rumble of military jet engines. He heard them from the direction of the afternoon sun and craned his neck high to catch a glimpse of one of them. He caught sight of a contrail and was rewarded with the sight of a fiery pinpoint at the end of it. Right away Wilson recognized it as a missile and shouted, “Yes!” He listened for several minutes to the rumble of the engines, military and familiar. Hornets , his Hornets. Is that Annie?

He listened, and then realized he was facing south. From where he had ejected, Río Salta — if that was where Annie was going — was to the west. Maybe Annie had led them through the “back door,” from the south. Maybe that isn’t Annie. Maybe these guys aren’t attacking Río Salta. Maybe it’s a Venezuelan missile . He continued to listen long after the sound receded from his ears, long after the pain and exhaustion returned and reached a familiar peak. He had, maybe, four hours of daylight left, and he still hadn’t found the stream. He needed water and rest. Tomorrow morning he would make his way north and to the coast. Sijan. Dengler.

I can do it. I have to do it.

At the same time Annie was leading her formation north, Daniel waited for Edgar Hernandez to answer. He caught a faraway glint of sunlight on the water as he stared out at the gulf. The southern horizon — and the Río Salta complex — seemed calm. He saw no evidence of the American attacks in this distance.

“Mayor General Hernandez, señor.”

“Edgar, how goes the war?”

Hernandez didn’t answer. Daniel repeated his question. “Edgar, are you there?”

“Si, señor.” Hernandez answered.

“Good. Please bring me news of your progress.”

Hernandez took a breath. “We shot down one of their fighters last night using our new toy. We believe it is one of their senior pilots, and he ejected along the coast. We are searching the area to find him, señor.”

“Very good. He can be a valuable asset,” Daniel said. Hernandez agreed, but for a different reason. He continued.

“The Americans just dropped bombs in the water near Río Salta, probably mines. This will bottle up our oil terminal trade, in and out. And last night, they disabled our base at San Ramón. It is unusable for the moment.”

“Very well. Have you experienced losses?”

“Si, señor, two planes and their pilots last night.”

“ Lo siento , Edgar. Brave sons of the Bolivarian Republic defending the homeland from the barbarians to our north. Ensure their families are taken care of, and send me the bill.”

“Si, señor,” Hernandez answered, knowing he should have been in one of the cockpits. Tonight, when the Americans returned, he would be. Hernandez hated himself, and hated more that he had to spend his remaining precious minutes on earth talking with his tempter, this living devil, Daniel . The devil then asked him a question.

“Edgar, are the Americans going to invade the Bolivarian Republic?”

“Not this week, but they could — if they want to — in the next 30 days. First, they must mobilize an invasion force and send most of it by sea. They are sending such a force to defend their fortress at Guantanamo.”

“The Bolivarian Republic is too vast to invade, even for the Americans.”

Hernandez could not control his frustration.

“Señor, from a standing start they invaded a land-locked Afghanistan less than a month after nueve-once ! Within two months, they had taken the country! Then, in only thirty days, they took Iraq! They can do it , señor. You saw them do it yourself in Panama, with nothing more than paratroops. My forces cannot hold, even with the Russian toys you supply us with to “zap” one or two of their jets. We cannot repulse the tidal wave coming down on us, but I will lead my forces to the death and take as many as we can… maybe even modest losses will be too much for the weakling American politicians to endure.”

Daniel absorbed the outburst from Hernandez, an outburst that could be forgiven considering the stress Hernandez had endured the last few days. Before responding to his general, Daniel looked out at Trinidad, his lifeboat. He thought of Ramos.

“Mayor General Hernandez, thank you for your political and military assessment. I detect however, that you are going to lead the FAV into battle yourself, from the cockpit of a fighter jet.”

Hernandez didn’t like where this was going, but responded truthfully, with honor .

“I am, señor. I cannot ask them to give their lives while I am safe in a bunker. I have failed them and the Bolivarian Republic — and you, señor.”

Daniel waited a long moment before he responded. He could sense the unease Hernandez felt on the other end of the line.