Mike Williams walked out on to the deck of the U.S.S. Dwight D. Eisenhower, his co-pilot, Jake Johnson following close behind. The two walked in the direction of their F-18 which stood on the catapult ready to launch in anticipation of a strike.

“You think they’re gonna do it?” Jake Johnson asked, the tension noticeable in his voice. Despite being in the service for a few years, he was still inexperienced, and nervous of having to enter a mission other than the required training.

“Nah,” Mike Williams tried to sound reassuring, but he was nervous himself. From the debriefing, things were about to get ugly if North Korea launched a nuclear weapon as they had been threatening for weeks. The threats were vague, and no one truly knew what to expect.

Mike looked to the sky as if for an answer. He sighed, wondering why such actions were even necessary in the world anymore. To him, war was so blatantly medieval, a relic of times long past.

There was a flash near the horizon, and a streak rose.

“Oh hell,” Mike muttered to himself.

They really did it.

Mike and Jake broke into a run, puling on their helmets as they reached the ladder on the fighter. Each had a leg into the cockpit when the PA system crackled to life. “All hands, stand down,” the Flight Commander’s voice came over the speakers, surprisingly calm. “Once again, we have been ordered by the commander in chief to stand down.”

What?Mike thought. He continued climbing into the cockpit, and checking his equipment. He looked at the streak, noticing the southerly track.

“That looks like it’s headed for…” Jake said, unable to finish his sentence. “Japan,” Mike finished for him.

Mike fired up the big engines. “You know I need you buddy, can’t do this without you,” Mike said into his helmet’s microphone, “but there will be a court martial waiting for us – if we don’t end up in the drink.”

“I always seen them on the T.V.,” Jake said with a laugh. “Wonder if it’s like that. I am kind of thirsty, too.”

Mike performed the last of his checks, and prayed silently. Without the catapult to send them off, the big plane was unlikely to get into the air unless they were extremely lucky, and given their current situation, Mike was not ready to rely on luck. Mike looked out of the bubble to see the deck empty, other than an officer running toward the plane waving his arms in the air, pointing at his head. Mike kept the radio off and ignored him.

“Well, hotshot, we’re going to find out how well -” Mike suddenly stopped, a sudden sensation felt as if he were kicked in the back. The deck sped by him, and he screamed into the helmet mic, somewhat surprised, and triumphant. Unexpectedly the catapult had fired, and the F-18 dipped as it reached the end of the flight deck, then began to gain altitude. At least they weren’t going to be alone at that court martial.

 

Mike turned the jet in the direction of the streak, wondering if they were going to make it in time. The delay on the deck stole precious seconds, and no one was sure of the capabilities of North Korea’s missiles. Mike checked his instruments, noting they were still too far off to get a lock or even an exact distance from the missile. He kept on his current course, and held his breath.

Several miles from the target, the missile’s trail was easily visible and the crew were able to track it better. Mike began working out how to stop the weapon, as his experience only included engaging other aircraft. He ran all scenarios in his head, finally deciding on using one of his own air to air missiles to try and take down the North Korean weapon. He could only hope it was slower than his.

Five miles away now, Mike armed his missiles. Now all he had to do was pick the appropriate point at which to fire. “Now anything about nuclear warheads, buddy?”

“Only that they’re really, really bad,” Jake answered. “If the movies are right, we don’t want to be too close when it goes off.”

“Did you do anything back home other than watch television and movies?” Mike said half jokingly.

“Sure, but you really don’t want to know about it.”

The missile’s trail started to dip, and Mike decided it was now or never. Having a definite lock, Mike fired. “Fox three!” Mike called twice, firing two air to air missiles. “Godspeed,” he muttered after the second was away, and pulled hard on the stick to turn his fighter around, returning to the Eisenhower.

 

In the streets of Tokyo, the people watched in horror as the streak approached their city. Newscasts had already announced the launching of a nuclear missile at their city, and the panic had begun to spread. Some fled, others knowing the effort was futile, stared at the sky. They were doomed, and there was nothing they could do about it.

There was quite a bit of commotion as some of those on the ground noticed a small point of light approaching from the opposite direction. From that point emerged a new point of light, this one hovered momentarily then started moving rapidly in the direction of the missile, while the original turned away and returned from where it came. Some started crying they were doomed, that two missiles were sure to take them out. The first missile was now very close, although still at a high altitude, it was close enough that some could make out flame behind it.

Then there was chaos.

The newer point of light approached the nuclear missile, and they merged.

The sky turned white.

 

On the ground electronics sizzled and popped, rendered useless by an unseen wave of electromagnetism. The missile had been detonated high enough in the atmosphere where only a pulse of electric energy had reached the ground, destroying anything containing delicate or unshielded circuitry. Fortunately, that was the greatest extent of damage.

There were few casualties. The unfortunate few with life assisting electronics fell to the ground dead. Besides those few, no one else died.

 

The next day Mike Williams and Jake Johnson were together when they were notified of their impending court martial hearing.

“The hero’s reward,” Mike said aloud, and sighed.