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sk encased her head； and her body and arms were sheathed in a green flight suit； gloves； steel…toed black boots。 Over all this she wore a G suit； torso harness and survival vest； to which was attached an inflatable life vest。 Toad wore exactly the same outfit； but the thought that the beautiful Rita Moravia was hidden somewhere under the flight gear in the pilot's seat struck him as amusing。 One would never even know she was a woman except for the sound of her voice on the inter system； the ICS。 〃Takeoff checklist；〃 she said crisply； her voice all business。
Toad read the items one by one and she gave the response to each after checking the appropriate switch or lever or gauge as the plane rolled along。 The taxiway seemed like a little highway going nowhere in particular； the concrete runways on the right were hidden by the grassy swell of a low hill。 To the left was a gravel road； and paralleling that the beach； where the Puget Sound waves lapped at the land。 The water in the sound appeared glassy today。 Above them was blue sky； a pleasant change from the clouds that had moved restlessly from west to east since Toad and Rita arrived on the island。 Even Mother Nature was cooperating。 The background noise of the two idling engines； a not unpleasant drone； murmured of latent power。 They promised flight。 Toad breathed deeply and exhaled slowly。 He had been on the ground too long。
Clearance copied and read back； Toad asked the tower for clearance to take off。 It was readily granted。 The traffic pattern was momentarily empty。 Rita Moravia rolled the A…6 onto the runway and braked to a stop。 With her left hand she advanced the throttles to the stops as Toad flipped the IFF to transmit。 The IFF encoded the plane's radar blip on all air control radars。
The engines wound up slowly at first； then quickened to a full…throated roar that was loud even in the cockpit。 The nose of the machine dipped as the thrust pressed the nose…gear oleo； almost as if the plane were crouching； gathering strength for its leap into the sky。 Moravia waggled the stick gently； testing the controls one more time； while she waited for the engine temperatures to peak。 Outside the plane。 Toad knew； the roar of the two engines could be heard for several miles。 No doubt the flight crewmen on the ramps near the hangars were pausing； listening as the roar reached them； their attention momentarily captured by the bird announcing its readiness for flight。 Finally satisfied； Rita Moravia released the brakes。
The nose oleo rebounded and the A…6 began to roll； gathering speed； faster and faster and faster。 The needle on the airspeed indicator came off the peg。。。 80。。。 100。。。 faster and faster as the wheels thumped and the machine swayed gently over the uneven concrete。。。 130。。。 140。。。 the nose came off the ground and Moravia stopped the stick's rearward movement with a gentle nudge。
As the broad； swept wings bit into the air the main wheels left the ground and the thumps and bumps ceased。
Moravia slapped the gear handle up and； passing 170 knots； raised the flaps and slats。 Climbing and accelerating； the Intruder shot over the little town of Oak Harbor bellowing its song。 Upward they flew； upward； into the smooth gentle sky。
He was flying again。 It seemed…somehow it was strange and bittersweet all at once。 He hadn't thought about his last flight in months； but now as the engines moaned and the plane swam through the air； memories of his last flight with Jake Grafton in an F…14 over the Med flooded over Toad Tarkington。 There was fear in those memories。 He fought to push them out of his mind as he twiddled the knobs to optimize the radar presentation and checked the puter readouts。 He glanced outside。 The peaks of the Cascade Mountains were sliding by beneath the plane。 The steep crags were gray in those places where the clouds and snow didn't hide their naked slopes。
Rita Moravia had the Intruder level at Flight Level 230…23；000 feet Toad concentrated on the equipment on the panel in front of him。 As he tried desperately to remember all that his instructor had told him； he sneaked a glance at Moravia。 She sat in her seat calmly scanning the sky and the instrument panel。 She had engaged the autopilot and was watching it fly the plane。 Now she adjusted the bug on the HSI； the rotating pass ring。 She had the Yakima TACAN dialed in。 Now she toggled the switch that moved her seat up a millimeter and stretched lazily。 〃Nice plane； huh？〃 she said when her left hand once more came to rest on the throttles； where her ICS button was。
Toad fumbled with his ICS button； which he keyed with his left foot。 〃Yeah。 Fucking super。〃
〃How's the system？〃
〃Looks okay to me； as if I knew。〃
〃Found Yakima yet？〃
He ignored the question as he studied the radar。 The city was still seventy miles away according to the TACAN。 There it was on the radar； right under the cursor cross hairs； just a blob of solid return amid a whole scope of return from hills and ridges and houses and barns。
Yeah； Toad； you better figure out how to find a city in all this mess or this little flight is gonna be a disaster。 The whole essence of the bombardier's art was interpreting this jumble of return on the radar scope。 And Jake Grafton and those other A…6 perverts demanded he pick it up in just a week！ Well； he'd show them！ If those attack weenies can figure out this shit in eight months； a week will be about right for the old Horny Toad。 After all； this worn…out flying dump truck…
Moravia was asking Seattle Center if they could proceed direct to the start of the low…level route。 Toad cycled the steering to that point and examined the radar carefully。 Thank God the guys at VA…128 had picked a town on the Columbia River to start the route。 Even a blind fighter RIO…Radar Intercept Officer…could find that Or should be able to find it with the aid of the radarscope photographs that were included in the navigation package for this route。 He arranged the stack of photographs on his kneeboard and pared the first one to the live presentation on the radar scope。 Yep！
They had passed the third checkpoint on the navigation route and were somewhere in central Oregon flying at 360 knots true； 335 indicated； 500 feet above the ground； when Toad's savage mood began to improve。 He was identifying the checkpoints without difficulty； no doubt because they were ridiculously prominent features in the landscape ahead； but he was finding them。 The system seemed to be working as advertised and the INS was tight； tight as a virgin's。。。
For the first time he became aware of Moravia's smooth； confident touch on the controls。 She flew the plane with a skill that belied her inexperience。 Toad watched her handle the plane。 The stick barely moved as the plane rose and fell to follow the ground contour and her thumb flicked the trim button automatically。 She was good。 The airspeed needle seemed glued to the 335…knot tic on the dial 〃You're a pretty good pilot；〃 he said on the ICS…
〃Just navigate；〃 she replied； not even glancing at him。
Another casual slap in the chops。 Goddamn women！ He placed his face against the black hood that shielded the radar scope and studiously ignored her。
The plane approached the Columbia River again from the south down a long； jagged canyon that ran almost straight north out of central Oregon。 Stealing glances from the radar； out the right side of the airplane Toad saw a harsh； arid landscape of cliffs and stone pillars； spectacular monuments to the power of wind and water and the vastness of time。 The almost vertical rock surfaces produced crisp； sharp images on the radar screen。 He examined the infrared display。 The infrared images were from a sensor mounted on a turret on the bottom of the aircraft's nose； immediately in front of the nose…gear door。 The sides of the rock toward the sun looked almost white on the IR scope； which was mounted above the radar scope and was also shielded from extraneous light by the black flexible hood projecting from the instrument panel。
The navigation checkpoint to enter the navy's target range at Boardman； Oregon； was a grain silo and barn on top of a cliff near the lower reaches of this canyon。 The cursors…cross hairs positioned by the puter on the radar screen…rested near a prominent blip。 Toad turned up the magnification on the infrared as he moved the cursors to the blip。 Yep。 That was the bam all right。 Over the bam he cycled the steering to the initial point for the run…in to the target and called the range on radio。 〃November Julie 832； you're cleared in。〃 Rita let the plane drift up to 1；500 feet above the ground。 They bad left the cliffs and canyons behind them and flew now over almost flat； gently rolling terrain that was used for dry…land fanning。 Following a printed checklist on his kneeboard； Toad set the switches in the cockpit for bombing。 Six blue twenty…five…pound Mark 76 practice bombs hung on a rack under the right wing； Station Four。 Each of these little bombs contained a smoke charge that would mark the spot of impact。 The A…6 crossed the initial point； the IP； and Rita swung it toward the target ten miles east。
The target lay on the south side of the Columbia River in fiat； dry； treeless country。 The run…in line was marked by a dirt road on the ground； but neither Toad nor Rita paid any attention。 During the minute and forty seconds it took the Intruder to traverse the ten miles from the IP to the target。 Toad was absorbed in getting the cursors precisely on the radar reflector that marked the target bull's…eye； checking the puter and inertial readouts； using the infrared for visual ID； locking up the target with the laser ranger…designator； then checking the information the puter received to make sure it was valid。 Finally he put the system into attack。
Even though the practice bombs lacked laser seekers； the laser in Elbe nose turret would give the puter more precise range and angular information than the radar could。 Rita was equally busy flying the plane and centering the steering mands on the Analog Display Indicator； the ADI； immediately in front of her。 The infrared and laser stayed locked to the radar reflector on the little tower that constituted the target bull's…eye even after bomb release as the nose turret rotated。 In the cockpit Toad watched the picture on the infrared display change as the plane passed over the target。 He was looking at an inverted picture of the tower when he felt the puff of smoke near the base sent up by the practice bomb。 An excellent hit。
On the downwind leg Toad raised his helmet visor and swabbed his face with his gloved hands。 This was work。 The plane was faded west parallel to the Columbia River。 Rita scanned the sky around aircraft。
〃832； your hit twenty…five feet at six o'clock。〃
〃Roger。〃 Toad made a note on his kneeboard。 〃On the next run；〃 he said to Rita； 〃let's do 500 knots。〃
〃Okay。〃
At the increased speed Toad had only about sixty…five seconds from the IP to bomb release； so he had to work faster。 The plane bounced in the warm afternoon thermals。 In wartime the plane would race in toward its target at full throttle。 The air could be full CS flak and enemy radar signals probing the darkness to lock them up for a missile shot。 Today over this Oregon prairie under a brilliant sun； Toad could visualize how it would be。 Sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes as he manipulated the switches and knobs of the equipment。 He got the bomb off but he was Struggling。 He would need a lot of practice to gain real proficiency； and today the equipment was working perfectly； no one was shooting。
〃A thousand feet this time； as fast as she'll go。〃
〃Roger；〃 Rita said。
As fast as she'll go turned out to be 512 knots indicated。 On the next run they came at five hundred feet； then four hundred； then three。
On the downwind leg before their last run； Toad flipped the radar switch from transmit to standby。 The picture disappeared from the scope。 A stealth bomber that beaconed its position with radar emissions would have a short life and fiery end。 The infrared was passive； emitting nothing。
As they crossed the IP inbound； Toad found the infrared was still on the bull's…eye tower。 With the help of the inertial； the puter had kept the cursors there and the infrared w