Chapter 2 - MAYDAY OVER THE MOUNTAINS
Before Nash could yell again, the main overhead communications speaker above the combat console erupted into a wall of loud, static-filled radio chatter.
"Overlord! Overlord! Viper One-One!" a voice screamed through the speaker, accompanied by the deafening, metallic screech of jet engines pushing beyond maximum thrust and the rhythmic, high-pitched chirping of a radar-lock warning system. "I’m taking fire! I’ve got three SAM locks in the canyon! I need a way out right now!"
The frantic voice of the pilot—Viper One-One, an F-35 lightning pilot caught outside friendly airspace—shattered the routine atmosphere of the operations room.
Nash spun back toward his glowing radar monitor, his eyes dilating in horror. His hands hovered over the mechanical keyboard, but his fingers froze entirely. The glowing green icon representing Viper One-One was trapped in a narrow topographic valley on the display, surrounded by three pulsing red threat rings indicating surface-to-air missile batteries.
"Overlord, respond!" the pilot screamed through the static, his breathing heavy and ragged over his oxygen mask. "I'm running low on fuel! Give me a vector!"
Nash stared at the screen, paralyzed. His throat locked up, his jaw trembling as he failed to hit the radio transmit switch. The calculations required to maneuver a stealth fighter out of an overlapping missile trap required instantaneous spatial awareness—a skill he had not yet mastered under real-world combat stress. He was completely frozen.
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Still crouched on the floor, the Incoming Commander raised her head. Her sharp eyes scanned the altitude meters, terrain contours, and wind-shear vectors displayed on the glowing screen. In three seconds, her battle-tested mind mapped the three-dimensional airspace, calculating the precise angle of escape through the radar blind spots in the canyon.
She stood up slowly, stacking her manila folder neatly onto the corner of the desk.
