Chapter 24 Twenty-one, dawn

Ten minutes ago, three hundred nautical miles east of Paget Island. United States Navy Pacific Seventh Fleet, "Qi Liya" aircraft carrier battle group. The flagship of the fleet, the "Qi Liya". Admiral Timis stood in the mission briefing room on the bridge, clutching a sheet of white A4 paper—a piece of A4 paper stamped "Confidential."He raised his head and made sure that he and an orderly were the only ones in the room, so he gently wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand—if someone knew that the commander-in-chief of the dignified aircraft carrier battle group had the habit of sweating all over when he encountered a problem , that is not very beneficial to the official career.

But at least this time, no one will laugh at him as a coward. In his thirty-five years of military career, Timis has never received a similar order—knowledge, principles, laws, morality...these beautiful and sacred words are so pale in front of a piece of paper, As fragile as a still-weaned baby. Reason told him that the order in his hand might cause extremely serious consequences—perhaps an international political disaster. "Sir?" The captain of the Qilia pushed open the door of the briefing room, strode up to Lieutenant General Timis, and saluted, "Are you looking for me?"

Timis didn't answer or return the courtesy, but just gave the peer a sideways glance, and handed over the order paperwork. The captain took the piece of paper knowingly, glanced at ten lines, and read all the content on it in a few seconds—from the headline to the signature, every word was written. "...Level 7 ecological disaster?" The captain frowned, "What is this concept? Why have I never heard of it?" "Simply put, Jason," Timis tilted his head to one side, "we're in big trouble." "Sorry, sir, I don't understand..." the captain asked tentatively, "How much trouble is it? Are they Chinese..."

"If the Chinese declare war on us tomorrow, I will say that we are in trouble." Timis smiled meaningfully: "But based on what I know about the Chinese navy, I'm afraid it's not a 'big' trouble—at least in the I wouldn't say that today." The captain's throat visibly moved twice, he knew too well that his boss never brags. "This... isn't this a joke?" He gently put down the order document in his hand, "What's going on? The Russian ballistic missile nuclear submarine was hijacked by terrorists? Did you say that the rebels of any country found a ton Agent VX? On Paget Island?"

"My job is to carry out the orders of my superiors." Timis straightened up and patted the other person on the shoulder: "And Jason, your job is to carry out my orders." "Yes, of course, sir." "Then now, Jason, do your job well. As for the things you shouldn't worry about, others will naturally worry about them." The implication is - "You don't need to take the blame." The captain was silent for a few seconds, and his frowns slowly relaxed: "I see, let's do it." Seeing that the captain had given the military salute and was about to turn around and leave, Timis suddenly called him as if remembering something:

"Jason!" "Yes, sir?" "Assign your best pilot to carry out this mission - notice, I said 'best pilot'!" The lieutenant general paused, "You must understand, old friend, this is a 'break of dawn', we I'm afraid I won't meet again in this life... I hope." The captain and Lieutenant Admiral Timis exchanged glances and looked at each other for two or three seconds, then pushed the door away solemnly. A minute later, the third weapon reserve on the Qilia. Four soldiers stood side by side, standing on both sides of the military officer holding the folder. He seemed a little nervous. After hesitating for a few seconds, he took out an ID card from his jacket pocket and inserted it into the card slot on the console. Swipe lightly.

The password is "0340998" - he said it again in his heart, then focused on it, and tapped the keyboard lightly.The two-inch thick metal gate creaked strangely, and was slowly opened to both sides driven by the gears. light is on. The soldiers filed in, and under the leadership of the military officer, they passed through the metal door of the warehouse one by one, and walked straight to a thing that was embedded in the wall, similar to a safe. "Open." Under the soft order of the military officer, two soldiers held the handle of the cabinet and pulled it back at the same time.After a humming of the motor, a chestnut-shaped red warhead lay on the conveyor belt, slowly came out of the warehouse, and stopped abruptly in front of everyone.

The military officer hastily made the notes, and immediately squatted down. With the help of two other soldiers, he straightened the warhead, opened an iron box on it, and closed it quickly after making a few concealed movements inside, for fear that others would see it. like. He straightened up and pressed the switch of the speaker on his shoulder: "The warhead has been confirmed to be out of the warehouse. The model is 'HB315 Mephisto', the production number is 2010100103A, and the equipment serial number is X1932. The combat readiness is in good condition. The time for the warhead to be out of the warehouse is..." He looked down at his military watch: "August 4th...August 4th at 2:16 pm."

"Destroy the time record!" The voice of the respondent was hoarse and deep: "From now on, don't leave any text that can be verified, understand?" The military officer exchanged glances with the surrounding soldiers: "Understood completely! Sir!" Fifteen minutes later, the flight deck of Qilia. It's almost sunset, but the visibility on the deck is still good, there is a little wind, but it is not strong enough to affect the take-off of the fighter plane. The only thing I can complain about is the cloudy sky - it is like a quilt wrapped around the sea , making people breathless.

Four F35 naval fighter jets, two in front and two behind, lined up in a slightly inclined diamond shape and parked at the rear of the flight deck.Under the drizzle and gusts of sea wind, ground crews were busy in front of and behind the fighter plane, some were responsible for loading and unloading ammunition, some were responsible for inspecting the fuselage, and some were cleaning the deck-at least it seemed to be cleaning the deck. The F35 at the forefront of the queue is obviously a bit different—compared with its companions, its side paint is more colorful, and it can even be said to be a bit fancy—for the stealthy F35 that takes "low profile" as its survival principle This is an unusual feature for a fighter jet.

The national flags of three other countries are printed on the side and rear of the nose of the aircraft-this is certainly not the mark left by participating in the World Expo. For the US Air Force, every enemy's national flag is a symbol of supreme honor and courage-it represents An enemy plane was shot down by the pilot. According to international practice, the pilot who shoots down five fighter planes is eligible to be called an "ace". This is not an incredible record during the World War - the world's number one ace pilot, Hoffman, has shot down more than 300 Fifty—enough to be the so-called "ace" seventy times, but in the 21st century when an aircraft is worth hundreds of millions of dollars, this title is undoubtedly a rare commodity. For the vast majority of fighter pilots in the world, It is an unattainable dream. And Martha is such an "ace" standing at the top of the entire U.S. Air Force. He has served for seventeen years, served as an instructor, and worked as a test pilot. He participated in all foreign wars of the U.S. military as a naval aviation soldier. From Baghdad to Belgrade, from Kabul to Mogadishu, Afghanistan, he was born and died, took the lead and won every battle.He is a national hero who has been hyped by the media to become a household name, and an iron-blooded idol worshiped by almost all Air Force officers and soldiers. But at the same time, he is an unusually low-key person—rejecting exclusive interviews, refusing endorsements, refusing boring variety shows, and certain so-called "" Unlike "veterans", Martha never pursued fame and fortune outside the battlefield. For him, being able to fly his beloved fighter plane with wings is already the whole of life. Just like every previous mission, Martha put on the flight helmet early on, and before the ground crew had completed all the inspections, she jumped into the cockpit of the F35 without even saying hello. He likes F35. Although this is not the most outstanding fighter in the world, this does not prevent Masha from preferring it.Whenever she sits in the cockpit of the F35, Martha feels like Clark in a red cape and blue tights—reborn and invincible. He looked back at his wingman—the big girl who had been with him for many years but hadn't made any military achievements, and found that she, like him, had already boarded the cockpit early and was waving to this side. Masha smiled knowingly, turned her head, sat upright, and turned on the communicator in the helmet: "Sunset Angel No. 2, did they ask you to write a suicide note?" "As usual, I didn't write it," the other party's reply was obviously teasing: "What? Are you going to send us to some small island in the South Pacific to catch King Kong this time?" "I have to admit that you are quite talented in variety shows. That's right, the goal is Paget Island." "Paget? Where is that? What are you going to do?" "I didn't say the details of the mission. I can find out that the location is already leaked." "Oh? Another A-level mission?" Martha nodded: "That's why I thought of us." "Ha, no wonder I was asked to write a suicide note... I said, Sunshine Angel No. 1, if we die together, will your wife be jealous?" The wingman paused: "...Wait, did you find out when Take off?" "No, just stand by." "It won't be like the A-level mission in the Persian Gulf last year, right? I was on standby for 18 hours, and nothing happened in the end. My legs are weak from sitting." Martha snorted, showing a faint wry smile: "I'd rather sit in the plane on standby for 18 hours for every mission, and nothing happens in the end." "Anyway, there's someone waiting with us this time—it's the Jolly Roger team, the elite." "I saw it when I came here." Martha turned her head away and glanced at the other two F35s parked at the back of the formation: "It's probably escorting us." "My F35 is loaded with air-to-air missiles...Sidewinder, Ruby, Phoenix, all that can be identified, I don't think I need any escort." "It reminds me..." It is indeed a very reliable method to speculate on the type of missions to be carried out through the equipment attached to the fighter jets. Martha tapped the touch screen on the onboard computer and started the F35 self-test program. Rows of dark green characters flipped into the screen from bottom to top, landing gear, hydraulic instrument, flight control module... As always, the words "inspection completed" jumped out at the end of all parts. "Fire control system connection" - After the long-awaited words came into view, Masha touched the outer edge of the helmet, reached out and pointed out the magazines of the F35, and checked them one by one. There are no air-to-air weapons, no joint attack munitions, and no remote sensing equipment needed for reconnaissance missions. In the entire magazine, there is only one thing-a big guy that has never been seen before. Martha frowned, and an inexplicable sense of tension suddenly surged into his heart. He slowly stretched out his fingers and wiped lightly on the icon of the missile—— "HB315 'Mephisto'-class tactical nuclear bomb, status: armed." "God bless!" Martha gasped, "I have a Mephisto on board!" "Murphy..." No. 2 was obviously taken aback, "Mephisto? You brought an atomic bomb?" Martha didn't answer immediately, instead, he was silent - he remembered a sentence that the commander said to him a few minutes ago, a sentence that seemed to be a slip of the tongue: "'The seventh level ecological disaster'..." Marsha paused: "Have you heard of this phrase?" "Of course, my brother works at the Centers for Disease Control... What's going on? What's going on?" "What do you mean? 'Level 7 Ecological Disaster'?" "Let me think about it..." The other party paused for a few seconds: "There is a movie about the leak of a super virus, the infected people turned into zombies, and then the army had to launch nuclear bombs to destroy the entire city. Have you seen it?" "I've seen it, but I can't remember the name... Wait," Martha suddenly realized, "You don't want to say that it's a 'level seven ecological disaster'?" "No," said number two's voice, surprisingly calm: "That's the sixth level."