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target. They came out of their seats as the plane went to zero G—weightless. The engines chewed up the jet fuel and threw blue flame out the back of the plane as they pushed the Tomcat forward with more pounds of thrust than the planehad in weight. They could accelerate going straight up. But at zero Gs and pointed down, they could really accelerate.
    “Super,” Messer said matter-of-factly as they passed through the sound barrier.
    “Rog,” Caskey replied. He kept the nose of the plane on the ship as they lost altitude.
    “Passing one thousand,” Messer said.
    “Rog,” he said, holding the throttles in max afterburner.
    “Mach 1.2.”
    “Stand by to mark their position.”
    “Ready,” Messer replied as he leaned forward to see the ship a half mile ahead. They were approaching the ship from the stern at 1.2 times the speed of sound. They would be there in three seconds.
    The ship flashed by on the left. “Mark,” Caskey said curtly, and Messer immediately pressed the waypoint button on their computer navigation system. Caskey pulled back and the Tomcat’s wings bent under the G forces. The moist air condensed behind them and left a vapor trail in front of their sound.
    “Break left!” Messer yelled. Over his shoulder he could see a missile tearing straight toward the Tomcat.
    Caskey immediately put the F-14 on its side and banked toward the ship in a 7 G turn. The wings were already fully aft since they were still supersonic.
    “Come out of burner!” Messer said as Caskey retarded the throttles, already thinking the same thing.
    Caskey and Messer were thrown forward into their shoulder harnesses as the airplane slowed without afterburners as if hitting a wall of air.
    “Where’d it come from?” Caskey asked through clenched teeth as he fought the G forces and tried to keep the color in his vision.
    “Open hatch just aft of the bridge,” Messer said, watching the small missile. “It’s not gonna make it. It’sout of gas,” he added as the missile petered out and headed toward the ocean.
    Caskey reversed course, headed away from the ship, and descended to just above the water to ensure he was out of the envelope of whatever other surprise might be aboard the Pacific Flyer . “That was unpleasant,” he said checking his fuel and the clock.
    “One day, we may have to show them what a real missile looks like,” Messer said, annoyed at his moist armpits and dry mouth.

    From the bridge of the Pacific Flyer, the man who called himself Washington watched the F-14 disappear over the horizon. “He not attack us,” he said, quickly recovering his composure after two bridge windows imploded from the sonic boom.
    “He’ll be back,” Bonham replied hopefully.
    Washington shook his head and frowned, suddenly very angry. “Never. They don’t want you hurt.” He looked up through the broken windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the Tomcat.
    “They’re probably waiting for you to contact them,” Bonham said. “You should use the radio.”
    Washington shifted his gun to his other hand. “Destroyed.”
    Captain Bonham looked at him, worried. “Why?”
    “Won’t need.”
    “How are you going to talk to them?”
    “Nothing to say.”
    “No demands?”
    “No, not yet.”
    Bonham felt a chill go down his back. “What is it you want?”
    “You see. Soon enough.”
    “No, tell me now!” Bonham spoke louder than he meant to. “Tell me what you want! Maybe I can help,”he said, choking on the idea of helping Washington do anything.
    Washington stood directly in front of Bonham as he quickly scanned the horizon for other ships. “This is just beginning, Captain. Soon, fourth largest country in the world will get respect it deserves.”
    “What are you talking about? Are you Japanese?”
    Washington turned his back on Bonham as he walked to the other side of the bridge. “You Americans are so stupid. So arrogant, ” he said with venom. “You learn the hard way.”

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