So Claire had been a mechanic.
Then Mercer had needed something else.
The enemy heavy-weapons position shifted.
Claire made the decision.
The Apache struck.
The first engagement shattered the enemy’s preparation before the renewed assault could begin.
A weapons position disappeared beneath dust and debris.
Men scattered away from the ammunition point.
One truck reversed violently and collided with another as the carefully organized formation broke apart.
At Mercer, soldiers heard the distant impact a moment after they saw it.
Someone near the perimeter shouted.
Then the radio erupted.
“Enemy movement on the east ridge! They’re dispersing!”
Hale raised his binoculars.
Claire did not circle triumphantly.
She did not waste time proving she belonged in the aircraft.
She moved directly to the next threat.
That frightened the enemy more than the first strike.
The Apache dropped lower behind broken terrain, disappearing from view.
For several seconds the ridge went quiet.
Then Claire rose from a different angle.
The enemy had begun repositioning another heavy weapon toward Mercer’s perimeter.
Claire saw the crew turning it before they saw her.
She engaged again.
The position was disabled before it could fire effectively on the base.
Inside Mercer’s tactical operations center, reports began arriving too quickly for one person to write.
The coordinated assault was losing its shape.
Enemy elements that had been preparing to move together were now reacting separately.
Trucks were backing into narrow paths.
Fighters were abandoning exposed positions.
Ammunition was being moved instead of distributed.
Every adjustment created another delay.
Mercer needed delay almost as badly as it needed ammunition.
Hale understood that immediately.
He keyed his radio.
“Donovan, priority is breaking their coordinated push.
Do not overextend.”
Claire’s answer came without hesitation.
“Copy.”
The lieutenant looked at Hale again.
There was no mockery left in his expression.
Only disbelief.
“How long was she a pilot?”
Hale shook his head.
“Long enough.”
That was all the explanation he had time to give.
The enemy recovered faster than Hale wanted.
A burst of fire climbed toward Claire’s aircraft from the ridge.
She banked away, keeping the gunship moving, refusing the instinct to remain over a target long enough for the enemy to settle their aim.
The aircraft responded to her as though the months in maintenance had never existed.
But Claire felt every vibration.
That was the difference now.
She did not merely know how an Apache flew.
She knew this Apache.
She knew which panel had been replaced after a crack appeared during inspection.
She knew the hydraulic system had been checked twice after the siege.
