Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (android based ebook reader .TXT) 📕

He keyed his radio mike. “Elmendorf Control, this is Totem One. I am declaring an inflight emergency. We’ve lost our Number Two engine. No fire, repeat, no fire.”

“Copy that, Totem,” an air traffic controller replied. “Advise your intention.”

Ingalls considered that. Technically, their HC-130J was rated to continue missions with the loss of a single engine. Thatwas especially true for this training flight, without any heavy cargo or passengers aboard the aircraft. But the idea of tryingto make it back to Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, nearly five hundred nautical miles away, in the middle of a storm, wasn’tthat appealing—especially down one engine for unknown causes. If one engine could crap out like this, there was no guaranteethat a second and a third wouldn’t do the same thing at the worst possible moment. Eielson Air Force Base at Fairbanks wasconsiderably closer, but it would still take them forty-five minutes to get there. And the most direct flight path to Eielsonmeant crossing the Brooks Range, some of the highest and most rugged country in all of Alaska. Yeah, no thanks on that, hedecided.

“What’s the status of Deadhorse?” he radioed. The airport serving the Prudhoe Bay oil fields was just sixty nautical milesnortheast of their current position. It didn’t have a control tower, but at least the runway was paved.

“Deadhorse is shut down,” the controller reported. “Visibility is currently nil, with blowing snow and very high winds.”

“Crap,” Ingalls muttered. “Okay, how about Barter Island?”

“Wait one.”

Van Horn shook her head. “Barter Island? Man, that’s the back end of nowhere. I’ve flown in there a couple of times. It’sjust a gravel strip.” The aircraft hit another pocket of turbulence and shook from end to end. “Which on a night like thisis going to be ass-deep in snow and ice.”

Ingalls shrugged. “Right now, I’ll take just about any runway in a storm, Skater. And if we lose another engine, I’m gonna be happy if we can even find some relatively flat piece of tundra to set down on.”

“Totem, this is Elmendorf,” the air controller’s voice said through his headset. “There’s a small security detachment posted at the radar station there. I just checked with them. They report the storm’s died down a little there, with north winds diminishing to about half of what they were an hour ago. The ceiling’s only around fifteen hundred feet and visibility’s not great, maybe a mile, maybe less. There may also be debris on the runway. Our guys are moving out now to check that and clear the strip if necessary—but they say it’ll take some time.”

“Copy that, Elmendorf,” Ingalls said, pulling up Barter Island on his navigation display. “Tell that security detachment we’reheading their way. We should be overhead in about thirty minutes. Whatever they can do to clear the runway by then will bemuch appreciated, but we’re going to try to set this crate down fast . . . before the storm closes in again.”

“Understood, Totem,” the controller replied. “And good luck.”

Ingalls glanced across the cockpit. “Okay, Skater, let’s come to zero-four-five. But take it real easy on your turn, okay?Keep your angle of bank well under twenty-five degrees and watch your airspeed and power settings.”

“Copy that,” Van Horn said tightly. They needed to bank left, which meant turning into their dead Number Two engine. Withthe aircraft’s three other engines still operational, that was doable. Still, extreme caution was necessary to avoid any riskof losing control due to asymmetric thrust. Slowly, she turned her steering yoke. Her eyes darted across her displays andgauges to make sure there were no other developing problems.

Gingerly, the Super Hercules rolled gently left—gradually coming around to the northeast as it headed directly toward BarterIsland through a storm-cloud-covered night sky.

Barter Island Airport

A Short Time Later

Through his night vision goggles, Captain Nick Flynn could just about make out the far end of the snow-covered runway. Beyondthat, a glittering haze of blowing snow and ice crystals obscured everything. Since he was roughly two-thirds of the way downthe strip, he estimated that put current visibility at a little more than half a mile. The wind must be starting to strengthenagain, he thought grimly. Not exactly great timing, since that crippled HC-130J couldn’t be more than a few minutes out.

Pairs of glowing yellow lights stretched away in both directions. They marked the edges of the hundred-foot-wide runway. Silhouettedagainst those lights, the soldiers and airmen of his Joint Force team were frantically clearing away pieces of windblown debristhat littered the snow. The fierce blizzard that had been pounding Kaktovik and the radar station for more than two days hadtorn shingles, pieces of metal siding, canvas tarps, and even satellite dishes loose, along with bags of trash, broken-downcardboard boxes, empty barrels, and other abandoned objects—sending them all skittering across the open tundra. This mix ofFOD, foreign object debris, was now a serious threat to the big turboprop headed here for an emergency landing. Metal shardsor other solid trash sucked into the Super Hercules’s propellers or engine intakes during landing could easily cause catastrophicdamage.

Painfully aware that they were running very low on time to get this job done, Flynn got back to work. He leaned over, grabbed a bent section of siding half buried in the surface, and yanked hard. Nothing. The damn thing didn’t move an inch. Grunting, he tightened his grip and yanked even harder. This time it broke free from the ice and came loose in his gloved hands. Like a discus thrower, he spun around in a single motion and hurled the piece of crumpled siding away from the runway as hard as he could. A powerful gust caught the warped metal panel and sent it spinning end over end through the air.

Senior Airman Mark Mitchell grabbed his arm. “Sir!” the radioman screamed into his ear to be heard over the north wind shriekinglow across the island. He held up the handset connected to their AN/PRC-162 radio. “I’ve got contact with that Herky Bird.They’re on final right now! They want our guys off the