Condor 49 (VP-4)
FL 200, 100 NM Northeast of Woody Island
Captain Nancy “Ping Pong” Travers stretched her shoulders. The constant pace of operations was taking their toll on her and the crew. Having the ability to take downtime in Guam or Japan was a blessing but not nearly enough to make up for the stress and lack of sleep that the current operational tempo demanded.
“We have a twich on number six.”
Travers was fully alert in an instant. While she was tired, the thought of possible action wiped the cobwebs away instantly. “Do we have interlock with the Triton?”
“Yes, sir. Just came online a few minutes ago.”
The MQ-4C Triton had been announced with great fanfare in conjunction with the P-8 Poseidon that Travers was flying. The idea had been to pair the two aircraft and allow the P-8s to go hunting while the MQ-4C provided overwatch at high altitude. Until the last week, this planned teaming between the two aircraft had never been used in a combat setting because the MQ-4C program was so late in rolling out.
“I have bearing to target, one eight zero degrees at sixty miles.”
Turning the aircraft to the south, Travers opened a call to the operations sergeant in the back. “Tim, get the Triton into a search pattern and light up the radar. Let’s see who we have with us today.”
“Yes, sir.”
While the Poseidon was capable of using it’s own radar, that efficiency was degraded at lower altitudes. The Triton would support the manned patrol aircraft by providing a radar picket at very high altitude.
“We are getting hard paints on three surface vessels. I think they are detecting the Triton’s emissions. Yes, lighting off their radar. Three Chinese Destroyers. Getting emissions above threshold, they may have us.”
Quickly, Travers put the plane into a steep dive. At 50 miles, they had a chance of getting below their radar horizon.
“Missile launch! SAM launch from the Chinese!!”
“Ready on countermeasures!”
“They are targeting the Triton. We have one missile inbound!”
“Countermeasures, NOW!”
Travers turned the aircraft to get them behind the chaff screen.
“Brace for impact.”
Just when Travers thought she had evaded the missile, a muffled but still quite loud “BOOM” filled the cabin. The aircraft began to shake wildly like it had been seized by a giant dog.
“FIRE! FIRE in number one!”
“Pull the bottle!”
“Pulling the bottle. We are losing hydraulics.”
“Shift to secondary hydraulics.”
“Shifting to secondary. Negative function.” Karsen looked out the window. “Shit, we are losing the wing. It’s shot to pieces.”
Travers was silent. She was fighting the plane. A good chunk of her control surfaces were either missing or inoperative. She was able to shallow out the dive, but the aircraft was virtually uncontrollable. They were not going to make it much further.
“We are going in. Prepare to ditch!”
“Ditching checklist. All hands, prepare to ditch! Repeat, prepare to ditch!”
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! This is Condor Four Niner, we are going down. Grid position five niner four. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!”
“200 Knots! Too fast!” Travers struggled to flare out and scrub off speed, but the plane was almost uncontrollable.
The last thing that went through Travers’ mind as she watched the ocean racing up to meet them was thinking that they had missed their chance at the submarine. Then the aircraft impacted the water at almost one hundred miles an hour and the world went dark.
