"Perfect timing," Ramirez said, moving down to the weapons station and taking Peretz’ place. "We're inside forty-five seconds. Now just keep her on the deck. First we neutralize the forward gun turret."
"Taking airspeed to fifty knots." Salim was praying now. "Allau Akbar!"
"USS Glover." Ramirez had switched on the helmet mike again. "We have a confirmed ditch. Oil pressure just went entirely. We'll be taking her by the bow."
"I repeat, who the hell are you?" the TAO's voice came back on the radio. "We still have no confirm on your IFF. If you make a pass, I'll assume hostile intent."
"Sorry. No time to play this by the book," he replied. "We're ditching."
He immediately clicked on the radar. In less than ten seconds he'd be in position to lay a Swatter directly into the forward gun turret. Command on the Glover knew it, and at that moment the gun was swiveling, coming around.
Suddenly a blaze streaked past them in the sky as the forward gun fired and a telltale tracer ripped by. It was intended as a warning.
But now the gun glowed on the IR interrogation screen.
Thank you very much, Ramirez thought, and flipped a switch, activating the starboard Swatter's heat-seeking guidance system.