David Lynn Golemon grew up in Chino, California. He has raised three great children and now makes his home in New York, where he is currently working on the next Event Group novel.

 

Pacific Ocean, 577 Miles
South of the Panama Canal
 
The USS Carl Vinson sailed smoothly through the calm waters of the Pacific. Her huge mass parted the sea 320 miles off the coast of South America, leaving a wake of incandescent colors and sea life that rolled and churned after her four massive bronze propellers.
 
The Nimitz-class supercarrier was on her way home after a cruise of six months in the south-central Pacific. Her home port was Bremerton, Washington, and that was where most of the crew's families would be waiting anxiously for their men and women to return from their long voyage. Her huge engines pushed her through the Pacific at twenty-six knots.
 
Flight operations on the Vinson were in preparation for the fighter and bomber air wings to lift off the following afternoon for their home bases of Miramar and Oakland. The only planes flying this morning were the carrier's combat air patrol, better known as CAP, and they now cruised at twenty thousand feet and were one hundred klicks out. The morning had been calm and without incident for the two old but formidable Grumman F-14 Super Tomcats when the first radio call was transmitted from the Vinson, call name Ponderosa.
 
"Range Rider flight, this is Ponderosa. Do you copy? Over."
 
Lieutenant Commander Scott "Derringer" Derry had his visor down as he looked into the rising yellow disk of the morning sun, reminding him of the Persian Gulf and his many combat missions over Iraq. As he thumbed the transmit button on his joystick, he looked to his left and slightly behind, eyeing his wingman, satisfied he was still in position and no doubt hearing the Carl Vinson the same as himself. "Ponderosa, this is Range Rider lead, copy five by five, over."
 
"Range Rider One, we have an intermittent contact south at eight hundred miles and closing. Advise this information comes from Bootlegger and not Ponderosa. We have no contact at this time. Over."
 
Under the mask, Derry pursed his lips. Bootlegger was the call sign for the guided-missile cruiser riding shotgun for the Carl Vinson. The USS Shiloh, with her Aegis tracking and fire-control system, could supply better air intelligence than the huge carrier, so her information was always acted upon.
 
Derry once again took a quick glance over his shoulder at his wingman. His partner gave a small wag of the huge fighter's wings, indicating he had the gist of the call.
 
"Range Rider copies, Ponderosa. Inform lead of any target aspect changes, over."
 
"Roger flight lead, Ponderosa will advise. Stay alert to TAC 3, Bootlegger will monitor. Over," the Vinson answered.
 
Derry clicked his transmit button twice in acknowledgment. "Do you have anything yet, Pete?" he asked his radar intercept officer, or RIO, Pete Klipp.
 
"Negative, boss, I don't have a thing on scope at this time."
 
Derry raised the dark visor on his helmet and once again looked down and back at his wingman, Lieutenant J. G. Jason Ryan, call sign Vampire, who was flying smoothly as ever as he brought his F-14 level with his commander.
 
"Does your RIO have anything, Vampire?"
 
"Negative lead, we're clear," Ryan answered.
 
"Understood. Let's go see what we can see," Derry said.
 
The two navy fighters made a slow turn to the south and climbed.
 
 
The Combat Direction Center on the Carl Vinson was darkened to the point where the outlines of