"We have it now," Derringer reported over the secure link. Both aircraft knew their transmissions were being monitored by the Carl Vinson and every ship in Task Force 277.7.

"SOB, it's huge," Dropout said into his mask, and then: "Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked.

"Bogey just went ghost on me, disappeared like it was never there."

"Derringer, did you copy that?"

"We have the same thing; last read was three-fifty and closing. Keep your eyes open "

"Roger."

All thoughts for Ryan became reflexive as he felt the thrust of the two massive engines pushing him back into his seat. His flight suit was filling with air around his legs and chest, forcing the blood to stay put in his brain.

"There it is again. Damn, this thing is big," Dropout repeated.

"Keep cool, I need closure rates, not comments."

"It's gone off the scope again, but last rate of closure was over three thousand miles per hour. She's really moving, altitude is the same, we should see target at any time, a little to the left and below us about two thousand feet."

Two thousand is a little close, Ryan thought. "Derringer, recommend we climb another three thousand, might be a better safety margin when we need it."

Derry shook his head. "Negative, Vampire, just follow my lead and put a cork in it, concentrate on finding the ghost, over."

Ryan shook his head, he knew they were too low. The possibilities of a head-on collision were too great to just ignore, but at the moment, he had no options but to obey his flight leader.

"I have a glimmer... oh God, what is that?" Derry's RIO asked, his voice becoming lower, almost a whisper to himself.

Ryan scanned the sea below and ahead of his Tomcat; he saw nothing. "You have it?" he asked.

"Vampire, hard left and climb!" Derry called loudly over the radio.