Page 134 of Falcon


Font Size:

Her fuel alarm chimed.

FUEL 14%

13%

12%

“Actual, we’ve got unknown movers approaching the convoy from the north and

northwest,” Shannon reported. “No ID.”

“Stay on them,” Actual ordered. “Repeat, stay eyes-on.”

Shannon’s voice was steady despite the fuel warning pulsing on her console. “Eagle Actual, Falcon Three-One requesting mid-flight refuel. We’re approaching BINGO.”

Static, then her CO’s clipped reply: “Negative, Falcon. Tanker can’t reach your grid in time. You hit BINGO, you RTB. Do not push past it.”

Shannon swallowed hard, eyes locked on the convoy below. “Copy. Marking fuel state. Holding as long as physics allows.”

She dipped lower, threading the Hawk above jagged ridges. The trucks ducked under a stone overhang, their heat signatures flickering, then disappearing.

“Damn,” Touré hissed. “Lost them.”

Shannon swung wide, trying to catch the angle. There was a faint return with one truck still glowing hot.

Her alarm shrieked.

FUEL 10%

“Falcon Three-One,” Actual barked, “state fuel.”

Shannon swallowed. “Ten percent and dropping.”

“Falcon Three-One, that’s BINGO. Break off. Now.”

Touré didn’t hide her relief. “We’re done, Falcon. We push any harder, we’re walking home.”

Shannon gritted her teeth. “One more sweep.” She caught one last flash of the convoy on IR and tagged it.

FUEL 9%

8%

“Actual, last visual transmitted,” she said.

“Break off,” Actual repeated. “Immediate RTB.”

Shannon pulled the Hawk into a hard, climbing turn, dust spiraling beneath them as the landscape swallowed the convoy whole. They lost it. They had to.

FUEL 7%

Touré blew out a breath. “Another sixty seconds and we’d be dropping out of the sky.”

Shannon didn’t answer. Her hands stayed steady. Her heartbeat did not. As Falcon Three-One turned toward base, the final ping of the IR tag blinked out, and the convoy disappeared into the desert.

THE MASSIF PASS

The mountains scraped the sky like broken teeth. Bravo Team moved in the shadows, twelve men with suppressed rifles, night-vision goggles, and the gritty silence of veterans who’d seen too much.