The Medusa Affair
Misty Cordell powered back the throttles smoothly, and the hurtling T-38 jet slowed obediently. It might officially be a training aircraft, but it was originally designed as a supersonic fighter and was still one hot jet. She touched the stick between her knees and the narrow nose dipped into a descent.
"Snake 51 departing flight level three-seven-zero for ten thousand feet," she announced to Anchorage Center.
"Roger, Snake 51. You are cleared for approach to runway 31 at your final destination."
Her destination being a classified Special Forces training facility in western Alaska, both she and the controller were prohibited from naming it over the radio. Its optimistic sobriquet was Camp Green.
"How are you doing, sir?" Misty asked her back-seat passenger—and boss—General Hal Wittenauer. "Great. Any chance you could throw in a barrel roll or two on the descent?"
"I'm afraid that's against regulations."
He chuckled, a metallic sound in her helmet speakers.
"Since when have regulations ever gotten in your way?"
Misty smiled into her oxygen mask. When indeed? "Remember the M-1 maneuver I showed you—where ... read full excerpt from: The Medusa Affair ebook
