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The ocean beneath him was devoid of surface contacts, with the exception of the Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser, Mobile Bay. He thought it fortunate the Pentagon had considered the test important enough to assign the Mobile Bay for area sanitization, and he looked down on the darkened ship as she steamed north toward Santa Cruz Island.

“Mobile Bay, this is Devil One.”

“Go ahead, Devil One,” the ship’s controller said.

“My sweep of the airspace is complete. Your unit is the only surface contact in the test area. Confirm?”

“Copy that, Devil One,” the man’s voice replied. “We launched Raptor Two Four to aid the Coast Guard in a real-world search and rescue mission on Santa Cruz Island.”

Jug activated his Distributed Aperture System and looked down at the darkened island, letting his jet’s infrared sensors detect the MH-60R’s hot exhaust. Within seconds, his jet’s core processor had identified the helicopter and placed a digitally created box around it on his Helmet Mounted Display. The helicopter was flying low level over the island’s southern coast.

He checked his fuel state and saw that he had enough gas for at least some loiter time over the island. Well, why not? he thought.

“Mobile Bay, is Raptor Two Four up Link Sixteen?”

“Affirm.”

Jug pulled up his communication portal and selected the control page for his Link 16 datalink. Normally, the Joint Strike Fighter disguised itself from others within the network, but if he was going to be of any assistance in the search, he needed to reveal himself to the helicopter crew.

“Frequency?”

“Raptor Two Four is up Cobalt,” the cruiser’s controller replied.

“Devil One,” Jug replied, then dialed in the new frequency. He banked left and set up a relaxed orbit over the island, letting the autopilot keep him in position as he manipulated his EOTS to put his infrared sensor on the ground beneath the helicopter. “Raptor Two Four, this is Devil One.”

“Go ahead, Devil One,” the new voice replied.

“Raptor Two Four, Devil One is a single F-35C overhead at angels twenty with one five minutes of playtime,” Jug said. “How can I help?”

A few seconds of silence followed before the voice returned. “Uh, roger that, Devil One.”

Jug knew the Seahawk crew was probably trying to figure out how best to integrate the fifth-generation fighter into their search. While he waited for instructions, he used his sensor to scan the eastern end of the island, designating hot spots as targets that he could transmit to the helicopter via datalink. Even if they told him to buzz off and go home, he wanted to at least give them something they could use.

“Devil One, this is Raptor Two Four,” the helicopter pilot said. “We are searching along the beach on the south end of the island. Confirm you are visual.”

“Devil One is visual Raptor Two Four.”

“Copy, we would like you to scan the area north of our position. We are looking for any heat signatures that could be human so we can relay their location to the park ranger on the ground.”

Jug knew the Seahawk crew had no way of knowing he was already using his EOTS to do just that. He had found half a dozen heat signatures near the helicopter’s position that were potential hits, and he transmitted the target list to them over Link 16. “Roger, Raptor Two Four. Stand by for target package transmission.”

“Uh, copy.”

While he waited for the helicopter crew to confirm receipt of the target list, he continued scanning the east end of the island, noting a few surface contacts off the coast. They were both outside the missile test area, but one was close enough he wanted to get word to them to remain clear during the test later that evening. He zoomed in on the ship and saw what looked like a Coast Guard cutter steaming west toward the helicopter’s position.

“Raptor Two Four, are you in comms with a Coast Guard vessel nearing your position from the east?”

“Affirm, that is Cutter Blacktip. They are up this frequency.”

“Devil One, this is Chief Romero on the Blacktip,” a new voice said.

“Hey, Chief, just wanted to make sure you were aware of the missile test later this evening and confirm you will remain clear.”

“Affirm,” the chief replied. “We will remain in the island’s coastal waters and plan on returning to Ventura when we are complete with tasking.”

“Thanks, Chief,” Jug said.

“Devil One, Raptor Two Four received your target list.”

Satisfied that he had given the SAR bubbas a place to start and that the airspace and seascape were sanitized for the test, Jug rolled out with Point Mugu on the nose. “Copy, Raptor Two Four. Devil One is departing station and RTB Point Mugu at this time. Happy hunting.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Jug switched off the SAR coordination frequency and dialed in Mugu approach. Despite knowing Colt was flying up to Camarillo to see him, he wasn’t in a hurry, and he pulled the throttle back and maintained his airspeed as he descended for the coastal naval air station.