DEADLY DILEMMA by Dan Stratman (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📕

the distance, clouds of snow were being kicked up by semi-trucks swerving off the highway onto the shoulder.

Lance’s face was ashen. He looked like he was going to throw up. The crazy maneuver had shaken him up so badly he couldn’t think of a joke to mask his fear. “You know I wasn’t being literal about flying like you stole it, right?”

“Relax; we lost him, didn’t we?” Cyndi said with a wry grin. “Congratulations, Ice Man, you just earned your copilot wings.” She gave him a playful punch on the arm.

Cyndi kept the helicopter skimming along right above the highway. Trucks and cars swerved off the road and into the ditch after seeing a menacing attack helicopter roaring up behind them in their rearview mirrors.

Cyndi decided to take pity on the startled motorists and climbed to a more reasonable altitude. Slowly, the bustling metropolis of Cheyenne, Wyoming, came into view. Built from Wyoming sandstone, the Renaissance revival-style state capitol building stood out from the surrounding structures. The afternoon sun reflected off its 24-karat gold leaf dome, acting like a beacon welcoming them home.

“We need clearance from Cheyenne tower to enter their airspace and land at Warren,” Cyndi informed Lance. She tapped on a piece of equipment in the center pedestal. “This is the radio. I have no idea what the tower frequency is. Dial in one two one point five, the universal emergency frequency. All air traffic control facilities are required to monitor it.”

Lance set up the frequency.

Cyndi pressed the mic button on her stick. “Cheyenne tower, this is…uh…” It suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t know the call sign of the helicopter. “This is Capt. Cyndi Stafford. I am about ten miles east, requesting permission to land at F. E. Warren.”

“Say your call sign,” the controller replied, annoyance evident in his voice.

“I don’t know my call sign.”

“Say your aircraft type, then.”

“Helicopter.”

“Care to elaborate?” the controller said sarcastically.

“I think it’s called a Little Bird,” Cyndi replied, guessing. “Let’s just say my callsign is Alpha One. Requesting permission to enter your airspace and get vectors directly to Warren Air Force Base.”

“So, you don’t know your call sign, and you don’t know what aircraft you’re sitting in. I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I’m guessing you don’t have a flight plan either,” he rudely replied.

Cyndi felt like unloading on the snarky controller but bit her tongue. “Look, we’ve had a really rough day. All I want to do is get this over with. I know you have your rules, but if you’d just clear us into your airspace, I’d appreciate it.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you followed the federal aviation regulations,” he shot back. “Only aircraft that have filed a flight plan and are on official business are authorized to land at the base.”

Cyndi played her aviation ace in the hole. “Alpha One declaring an emergency. I need a heading direct to Warren right now.”

The veteran controller mashed the mic button. “Nice try, little birdie, clearance denied. Call back after you’ve filed a flight plan. The same goes for your wingman. Over and out.”

Cyndi turned toward Lance. Her brow furrowed. “My wingman?”

The missile warning system let out a shrill, pulsating tone.

Cyndi instinctively jinked left, then right. Precious seconds ticked by as the helicopter darted through the sky performing defensive maneuvers. Cyndi looked over her shoulder, searching for the telltale white smoke trail of an air-to-air missile. She spied a black dot at the same altitude in the distance. “Pierce just locked on to us, but he must be outside firing range.” Cyndi pushed the helicopter up to its maximum speed. The shattered canopy began to vibrate. “Cheyenne Tower, Alpha One is coming through your airspace whether you like it or not. Clear all traffic.”

“Permission denied!” the startled controller yelled into his microphone. “I have aircraft about to take off. You are not cleared into my airspace. Acknowledge, Alpha One!”

Cyndi ignored him.

“Alpha One, landing at Warren Air Force Base is restricted. Acknowledge my transmission. Now!”

Two F-16s on their way back to Hill AFB were taxiing to the runway.

The controller decided to enlist their help. “Viper One-Six flight, I’ve got two unidentified helicopters inbound to Warren Air Force Base without authorization. You are cleared for takeoff. Request that you intercept them and force them to turn away from the base.”

The F-16 lead pilot knew of Warren and its nuclear mission. “Happy to help, tower. Whoever these jokers are, they have no business getting anywhere near that base. After we scare them a little, I’m sure they’ll have a change of heart.”

Cyndi bounced up and down in her seat with excitement as she keyed her mic. “Yes, yes, that’s perfect. This is the lead helicopter. Come and intercept us. My wingman is trying to kill us. We need you fighter jocks to protect us and escort us to the base.”

The F-16s screeched to a stop just as they began their takeoff roll. The formation leader jumped on the radio. “Tower, what the hell is going on here?”

“Stand by,” the controller responded. “Alpha One, repeat your last transmission.”

Cyndi could see the field through the cracked canopy. “A psycho is on our tail. He’s trying to murder us. If we don’t get to the headquarters building on base, an armed nuclear missile could detonate at any moment. Launch the F-16s!”

The leader looked over at his wingman and spun his fingertip in circles next to his head. Over the radio he announced, “Tower, that chick sounds like she’s nuts. We’re going to sit this one out until I find out what is going on.”

The missile warning system activated again. Sharp pulsating tones meant that the Stinger missile on Pierce’s left pylon was searching for its victim.

“No, you can’t do that! He’s going to shoot. Take off, dammit!”

“Viper One-Six flight will be taxiing back to the ramp,” the leader calmly said.

Branded a rule follower all her life—as if that were a bad thing—Cyndi decided it was time to make her own rules.