Widow 6
The radio went silent.
Not the ordinary silence that sometimes followed a transmission.
This was different.
It was the kind of silence that happened when experienced pilots suddenly realized they were speaking to someone they had never expected to hear from.
Pauline Sanders kept both hands on the controls.
The aircraft was still shaking.
The left engine temperature was climbing.
The captain was unconscious.
The first officer was frightened.
And two F-35s were flying formation beside them.
Yet Pauline’s expression remained completely calm.
“Widow 6,” the fighter pilot
finally said over the radio, “say again your last.”
Pauline glanced at Mark.
He was staring at her.
Then she pressed the transmit button.
“I said my call sign was Widow 6.”
Another pause.
This time it lasted longer.
Finally, the fighter pilot replied.
“Ma’am… where did you learn to fly?”
Pauline smiled faintly.
“A long time ago.”
The second F-35 moved slightly closer.
Its pilot spoke.
“Widow 6, this is Havoc 2. If you are who I think you are, you flew the Blackbird evaluation program.”
Pauline didn’t answer
immediately.
Mark looked at her.
“What is he talking about?”
Pauline adjusted the aircraft’s pitch.
“Something that happened before you were born.”
The fighter pilot’s voice came through again.
“Ma’am, command is asking you to confirm your full name.”
Pauline sighed.
“Pauline Elizabeth Sanders.”
Silence.
Then:
“Holy—”
The transmission cut off.
Pauline almost laughed.
Apparently, some things never changed.
Inside Nellis Air Force Base, Colonel Daniel Reeves was standing over a communications console.
“Pull the old files.”
The intelligence officer beside him frowned.
“Old how?”
“Anything containing the call sign
Widow 6.”
The officer typed.
Nothing appeared.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
“Sir, that call sign isn’t in the active system.”
“I didn’t ask for active.”
The officer looked at
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