"Maloney, Mack - Wingman 02 - The Circle War UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maloney Mack)

This was America under "The New Order."

The devastated middle of the continent Ч the location of the destroyed-in-place U.S. ICBM force Чwas now a nightmare of neutron radiation, poison gas and a swirl of strange hallucinogenics-that were spread everywhere when the Russian missiles hit. This was The Badlands, the schism that stretched from the Dakotas to the northern border of the new Republic of Texas.

These events gnawed at Hunter Чhe was obsessed with hate for those who had had a hand in the destruction of the country he loved. The Russians. The vice president. The turncoat National Guard troops who carried out the New Order to the letter while the regular U.S. forces were overseas fighting real battles.

He hated the air pirates Ч renegades who now roamed the skies, preying on innocents and attacking the huge air convoys that were the only contact between the relatively civilized portions east of the Mississippi and the West Coast. Ditto the Mid-Aks Чthe corrupt, fanatical leaders of the Middle Atlantic Conference which grew out of the Mid-Atlantic states. Then there was The Family, the super-criminals who had operated out of New Chicago. Their armies had attacked Football City Ч formerly St. Louis. But the free-wheeling, independent gambling territory refused to knuckle under to the threats of blackmail and extortion from their unfriendly neighbors to the north. It was Hunter and the air force of rescued pilots he organized, who helped Football City's army and thou-

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sands of Free Forces' volunteers defeat The Family's 80,000-strong invading force in a series of spectacular battles.

Both the 'Aks and The Family relied on Soviet help ЧHunter was certain of it. Defeated on the European battlefields and elsewhere, the Russians had a great interest in keeping America fractionalized and unstable. Hunter was a stumbling block in these devious plans. His goal was to reunite the continentЧreestablish the democracy that was once the United States. If this dream was to come true, the destabilizing elements in New Order America Чand there were plenty of them Чwould have to be de feated.

After the big war, Hunter had joined a bunch or his ex-Air Force buddies in a group known far and wide as "ZAP." The Zone Air Patrol was the crack air force for the Northeast Economic Zone, the area once known as New England that had become its own country after the New Order went down. But as good as ZAP was, they couldn't prevent the Northeast Economic Zone from falling to the Mid-Aks. That's when Hunter became a fighter pilot for hire, only later did he get revenge by defeating both the 'Aks and The Family.

Now he was part of the newly-formed Pacific American Air Corps, or PAAC. He and a number of other ex-Air Force and ZAP pilots had established a new air base near Coos Bay, Oregon. They were allied with the Republic of California, a democratic government sometimes known as The Coasters. Together, their charge was to protect the western flank of the continent as far east to the Rockies and up

through Alaska. It was a huge responsibility, but they were relatively well-equipped for the job Чespecially in air power. They had to be. Because once the Soviets recovered from their wartime losses, Hunter and many other freedom-loving people were certain they, or possibly some puppet army, would invade America for real to complete the job they failed to do in Europe.

And that's why he flew these long missions . . .

His country, its enemies, his past Чall these things haunted him during the long, solitary flights. But there was another memory Чmore personal, that deep down inside him also refused to let go.

Her name was Dominique . . .

Hours passed. The night got darker. He was over the tip of Siberia when he switched on the plane's eavesdropping equipment. Just like 50 times before Ч he heard nothing, saw nothing. He stayed on a southerly course for a while, soaring over the Chukchi Peninsula. Then he turned back to the east. The sun was coming up. Soon he was over northern Alaska once again, heading for home.

Suddenly, it happened. The feeling. His sixth sense that told him that trouble Чusually trouble on wings Чwas nearby. He hadn't felt it this intensely in a long time. Now, his body was ringing with it.

He checked his instruments. He was over Seward's Peninsula, about 100 miles north of Nome, Alaska. Below him were banks of frozen clouds. He knew an arctic storm was brewing, but the inhospitable conditions made no difference Чsomething was down

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there. He put the U-2 into a dive to get a closer look.

The airplane bumped and bucked as he passed through the turbulent cloud cover. Snow started to swirl around him and accumulate on his cockpit windshield as he lowered his air speed. Suddenly a trio of flat panel warning lights buzzed and flashed in succession on his control board. His heat-sensitive infra-red camera sensors were confirming his sixth sense. They had detected telltale signs of heat Чa lot of it Чsomewhere on the ground below.

Another pilot might have just set the cameras rolling and passed over the area at a safe height, waiting until he got back to base to check the "heat" film and see what it revealed. Not Hunter. He instructed the flight computer to take the craft to the source of the heat.

The U-2 was being buffeted by very high winds and the snow made visibility close to zero. Once he got to a reasonably low altitude, Hunter switched on his ground radar and waited for an image to appear on the screen. Slowly, the hazy forms of the ground contours materialized. He was about a half mile above a valley that was surrounded by mountains on three sides. The sensors indicated the heat source was located at the southern end of the valley.

He finally broke through the cloud cover only to find he was still flying blind. A blizzard was raging through the valley, and it was all he could do to keep the aircraft level. He slowed his airspeed down to almost a crawl. His visibility was now absolutely zero. He was flying on instruments and instincts.

He switched on his TV "heat screen," the read-out from his special video camera. At the end of the

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white fuzzy patterns of the valley walls, he could see a large red form indicating heat. What the hell could possibly be giving it off? There certainly couldn't be any people or settlements surviving in this frigid wilderness.