"Dagger One, up and ready on catapult one," Maverick announced over the radio at the control center.
"Dagger Spare standing by," said Hangman next.
"Dagger Four, up and ready."
"Dagger Three, up and ready."
"Dagger Two, up and ready," Bradley told them.
Brandi breathed in heavily and crossed her arms. Shit just got real. Next to her, Warlock spared her a glance of reassurance.
"Support assets airborne," said the comms officer, and they watched the monitors in anticipation. "Standing by for launch decision."
"Send them," Cyclone ordered without hesitation.
One by one, they watched as the four planes flew off toward the shore of their target. The radar beeped ominously and Bradi's vision narrowed, only being able to focus on the green blips. The radar suddenly stopped beeping and the fighters disappeared.
"Daggers now below radar. Switching to E-2 picture," said the officer.
"Here we go. Enemy territory up ahead," Maverick told them. "Feet dry in sixty seconds. Comanche, Dagger One. Picture."
"Comanche. Picture clean. Decision is yours."
"Copy. Dagger attack."
Leyte Gulf launched an attack of twenty-four Tomahawks, the group narrowly steering clear of the Dagger fleet. But it didn't stop Brandi from biting her nail. The small fleet assumed attack formation flawlessly and proceeded to the target. The clock was set, their two-and-a-half minutes started now.
"First SAM site overhead," Maverick warned. Nothing happened.
"Looks like we're in the clear on radar, Mav," said Phoenix.
"Let's not take it for granted."
"More SAMs. Three o'clock high." This time it had been Rooster to give the warning. Brandi felt the air constrict in her lungs at hearing his voice. They had two minutes to target. She prayed they wouldn't cut it close.
The monitor followed the Tomahawks' path. The missiles were thirty seconds from their mark on the airstrip.
"Dagger, Comanche. We're picking up two bandits. Single group. Two contacts."
