Mayday by Nelson Demille

Author:Nelson Demille [Demille, Nelson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9780759525948
Google: H2nbnIElV0gC
Amazon: 0446604763
Publisher: Grand Central
Published: 1997-07-01T05:00:00+00:00

Lieutenant Peter Matos fidgeted in the seat of his F-18 fighter. A hundred yards ahead, the Trans-United Straton flew a steady course. Matos forced himself to glance at his panel clock. Its luminescent numbers seemed to jump out at him. He was amazed to see that it had been more than an hour since the Straton had turned toward California. To Matos, it seemed no more than a few minutes. He shook his head in disbelief. During all that time, all he remembered was receiving a few transmissions from Commander Sloan and doing some calculations with his navigation equipment. But other than those brief duties, he could not account for the missing minutes.

Peter, snap out of it. Do something. Right now. Matos felt as if he were in a trance, hypnotized by the enormous and unchanging Pacific. He sucked hard on his oxygen mask to clear his head. Check the flight instruments, he said to himself. Matos knew that he should get himself back into his normal pilot’s routine. It was the best way to get his thoughts back on the right track. The gauge readings were familiar and friendly. Starting on the panel’s left side, he saw that the oil pressure was normal, the engine temperatures were normal, the fuel . . .

Matos stopped. His brief moment of reverie ended abruptly. Jesus Christ. The F-18’s fuel situation was not yet critical, but Matos could see that it soon would be. Even though he had taken off on this mission with the maximum fuel the aircraft could carry, he would, without any question, have to do something very soon.

Matos bit into his lower lip while his mind wrestled with the alternatives. But he knew what he had to do first. He read the hurriedly punched coordinates into his computer. He read the results. “Shit.” He had very little extra fuel left. The luxury of waiting out the Straton was coming to an end.

What would happen next? Matos agonized over his choices. Should he defy Commander Sloan? He had never defied an order before, and the idea was unnerving. Bucking James Sloan—and the United States Navy, for that matter—was too drastic a course to consider. It was outside the range of his thoughts, just as the Nimitz would soon be outside the range of his fuel.

Matos glanced at the Straton. It was flying evenly and steadily. Too steadily. He knew damn well that he had exaggerated those last damage reports he had sent to Sloan. Fatigue cracks have developed along the cabin wall. The wing spar may be damaged. It can’t fly much longer. It will overstress soon. None of that was exactly false, but it wasn’t true either. There were some cracks and signs of stress, but . . .

“Navy, three-four-seven, do you read?”

Sloan’s sudden transmission startled Matos. “Roger,” he answered, gripping tightly to the F-18’s control stick, “go ahead.” He could tell from the Commander’s voice that he had grown impatient with their unspoken plan. A sense of dread flooded Matos.

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