A Time for Patriots

“That doesn’t matter in an air-defense emergency, Judah,” Patrick said. “They may have deployed interceptors to Battle Mountain in case of more attacks in the area. Let me talk to them.”

“Fine by me,” Andorsen said irritably. “Go ahead.”

Patrick quickly switched the audio panel to COM2, hit the mike button on his cyclic, and spoke: “Battle Mountain Approach, this is Sierra Alpha Seven aboard JetRanger One Juliet Alpha on GUARD, fifteen miles south of JAB Battle Mountain. I was previously mission pilot aboard CAP 2722 that launched yesterday. Requesting permission to land at the CAP hangar.”

“What’s that Sierra Alpha Seven nonsense?” Andorsen asked.

“My call sign at the base — I’m hoping that’ll turn down the tension here,” Patrick replied. Andorsen snorted and shook his head but said nothing.

“Negative, One Juliet Alpha, negative,” the controller replied angrily. He directed Patrick to switch to his regular VHF frequency to clear the emergency frequency, then said, “You are directed to keep clear of Class-C airspace and land immediately. Acknowledge.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Andorsen said. He turned the helicopter to the northwest. “We’ll head back to the house.”

“That’s about twenty minutes away, Judah,” Patrick said. He quickly scanned outside, then pointed to the left. “That rest-area parking lot looks empty. You can set it down there.”

“I’m not landing on no parking lot!” Andorsen said. “I’m heading away from the base, we’ve made radio contact, and my ranch is less than twenty minutes away. I’m not threatening anyone.” He flipped over to COM2. “Listen, Approach, this is Judah Andorsen on One Juliet Alpha. We’re heading straight back to the ranch. I’ve been helpin’ out the Civil Air Patrol with a rescue, so don’t get all riled up about—”

At that instant they heard a tremendous screaming WHOOOSH! and the helicopter was tossed around the sky like a leaf in the wind. When Andorsen finally got the craft back under control, they all clearly saw what had caused the upset, because it had missed them by less than a hundred yards: an Air Force F-16C Fighting Falcon, banking steeply right in front of them. “What in the hell

… ?”

“That was to get our attention,” Patrick said. He switched COM1 to the VHF GUARD channel and spoke: “Air Force F-16, this is JetRanger One Juliet Alpha on VHF GUARD, go ahead.”

“JetRanger One Juliet Alpha, this is Saber One-Seven, Air Force F-16, on GUARD,” came the reply. “Turn left heading two-six-zero. You are instructed to land at Valmy Municipal Airport.”

“I ain’t landin’ at Valmy — that place has been shut down for twenty years!” Andorsen said. “There isn’t anything out there!”

“Judah, you’d better turn to that heading,” Patrick said. “If we’re not responding, he’ll get permission to shoot.”

“ Shoot? You mean, shoot me down ?”

“I do, and after what happened in Reno yesterday, he’ll do it.” Andorsen shook his head but turned to the heading. Relieved, Patrick switched to COM1. “Saber One-Seven, this is JetRanger One Juliet Alpha, requesting permission to land at the owner’s private airstrip at our four o’clock, forty miles. We will remain clear of Class-C airspace.”

“Negative, One Juliet Alpha,” the fighter pilot replied. “You are instructed to land as directed and await law enforcement. Do not attempt to take off again. I will be circling overhead and I may be directed to fire upon you without warning if you attempt a takeoff. Remain on this frequency.”

“Why, this is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard!” Andorsen thundered. “What does he mean, ‘law enforcement’? What in hell did I do?”

“We’re not supposed to be flying, Judah,” Patrick said. “Don’t worry — once they find out who we are, they’ll let us go once the emergency is over.”

“I’m not going to wait,” Andorsen said. He switched COM2 to his own discrete frequency. “Teddy, this is Judah.”

“Read you loud and clear, sir,” came a reply moments later, with a remarkably clear transmission, as if the responder was very close by.

“I’m in the JetRanger,” Andorsen said. “There’s an Air Force fighter jet forcing me to land at the old airport in Valmy. Send some boys out there. Then tell Cunningham to meet us out there too. They may try to arrest us. They may use the Highway Patrol or Humboldt County sheriff before the feds arrive.”

“Roger that, sir, I’ll tell him.”

Andorsen nodded. “They think they’re hot shit because they got a jet fighter?” he snapped cross-cockpit. “They ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.”

After overflying the deserted field and selecting the least weed-choked area he could find, Andorsen set the JetRanger down with an irritated thud and a swirl of tumbleweeds, shut the engine down, and exited the chopper. He scowled at the noise of the F-16 overhead. “Bastard,” he muttered. “Intercepted by the damned Air Force, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”