"Still no communication with Range Rider?" Harris asked.

"COM is clear."

"Sir, we have a second bogey inbound to Range Rider at four hundred miles behind the first bogey and closing at a high rate of speed. This contact is strong!"

Harris jumped from his seat and watched as the second contact closed on the first object and the trailing F-14s.

"Second contact closing at over Mach two point five," said a second, louder voice.

"What in the hell is happening here?" Harris said as he removed the bridge phone from its cradle.

Dropout, Ryan's RIO, caught another blip on his screen. "We have an inbound, mark it possible hostile, coming up our six and closing fast."

"Talk to me."

"Can't calculate distance and speed, it's moving too fast," Chavez said, close to panic.

"Damn, did you copy that, Derringer?" Ryan asked.

"Copy, Vampire, where in the hell are the alert aircraft?" Derry said, scanning the sky quickly for the two Tomcats that should be there any second.

Ryan didn't answer; at that moment his F-14 lurched in the sky, throwing him against his harness. His Tomcat quickly lost a hundred feet of altitude as something shot overhead in a blur of silver. The wings of his fighter wobbled uncontrollably for a moment and the nose dipped in a downward spasm. They were caught in the wake of a second saucer as it streaked toward the first. Several warning lights flashed on the Tomcat's control board. Ryan fought the stick, advancing his throttles to try to gain his original altitude. At that moment, a sick greenish light washed over their clear cockpit canopy, casting an eerie glow on themselves and the interior of the jet.