Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (40 page)

           
“Affirmative. Sorry, sir. I think
I’m about to break one of your planes.”

           
"‘Hey, it’s
your
plane,
Captain—you signed for it,” Samson quipped, his voice still eerily deep and
dark. “The Ukrainian border is just sixty miles ahead. Jump out as close to the
border as you can. See any populated areas at all?”

 
          
“I
can’t see squat outside,” Annie said. “I’ve been in the soup since forever.
Visual display to cultural.” The voice command switched her electronic visor to
display cultural features such as cities, towns, roads, and bridges. Just a
handful of small cities were close by; the largest, Kursk, a town of fifteen
thousand citizens, was right off their right wing. The eastern Ukrainian
provincial capital of Char’kov was seventy miles straight ahead.

 
          
“We’ve
alerted the Ukrainian Army and Border Patrols in eastern Ukraine, and they’re
mobilizing search-and-rescue forces,” Samson said. “The Ukrainian Third Army
headquarters is in Char’kov, and they have a regional airport that we can
secure if you can make it there. But the Russians have a major Troops of Air Defense
base at Belgorod at your eleven o’clock, forty miles. The U.S. Special
Operations Command detachment at Batman Air Base has been alerted, and they’ll
forward-deploy to
Ukraine
to help out in case you drop into
Russia
.”

           
Annie could see the computerized
depiction of the Russia-Ukraine border region. The Ukrainian city of
Char’kov
vas beyond the horizon with an electronic
arrow pointing to it,
ind
she aimed right for it. “I’m going direct to Char’kov at this time,”
she said. “If things get too rough, or if we get any company, I’ll deviate
further east around
Belgorod
.” She paused, then added, “Sorry I screwed things up. General.”

 
          
“Well,
you'll be happy to hear that the MV-22 and the MC- 130P are doing okay,” Samson
said. “The MV-22 is still upright. They’ve refueled and they’re on their way
through Ukrainian airspace. They’re reporting breaks in the weather farther
west, so they’re going to divert to Kiev. The crew sends their thanks. You
saved all of them. Feel any better?”

 
          
“I’ll
let you know when I’m back home sipping a cold one, sir,” Annie said.

 
          
Suddenly,
an electronic warning tone went off. Annie looked up. In her electronic visor,
she saw a bat-wing symbol of an enemy aircraft. “Enemy aircraft, five o’clock,
thirty miles, heading south,” she announced,

 
          
“Sukhoi-27
Flanker,” another voice cut in. That was Major Nancy Cheshire, also manning the
“virtual cockpit” back at Elliott Air Force Base, helping advise Annie as her
“virtual pilot.”

           
“Looks like single ship so far ...
no, wait.” At that instant, a second enemy aircraft appeared, several thousand
feet higher and slightly behind the first. “He’s got a wingman in high combat
air patrol. Another Flanker. We got any help on the way, General?”

 
          
“The
Ukrainian Air Force has scrambled some fighters from
Kiev
,” Samson replied. “ETA sixteen minutes.
Hang tight.” By then, Duane Deverill was climbing back into his seat He now
wore a pair of insulated mukluks with leg gaiters reaching all the way to his
knees instead of flying boots; a short winter-weight flight jacket; a pair of
thick insulated mittens over glove inserts with a finger opening so he could
work the controls; a watch cap under his flying helmet; and his survival vest
and parachute harness over his parka. It took him an extra minute to readjust
all his straps for the added bulk.

 
          
As
soon as he was all strapped and plugged in, he announced the threat also. “Go
get in your survival gear, Annie, he said urgently. “I'll keep an eye on this
bastard.”

 
          
“No.
He’s flying away from us.”

           
“Even better reason to clear off and
get in your cold weather gear,” he said. “I’ve got the aircraft. Get going.”
Annie nodded and began to safe her ejection seat when suddenly they heard a
fast-pitched
DEEDLEDEEDLEDEEDLE
tone in their headsets. Annie looked up.
A yellow triangle wa now emanating from the pointed top of the bat-wing enemy
air craft signal, the computer’s estimate of the enemy aircraft’s radar range
and sweep—and it was completely surrounding the aircraft symbols of the MC-130P
tanker and the MV-22 Pave Hammer transport. The yellow color meant that the
radar had locked onto them.

           
“That Flanker just locked up the
-130s!” Deverill shouted.

           
“We gotta do something!” Annie
shouted. “We're well within Anaconda range. Let’s get ’em warmed up!” The AIM
152 Anaconda missile was the Air Force’s newest air-to-air missile—so new that
it was still several years from deployment. The AIM- 152s, carried in a rotary
launcher in the for ward bomb bay, was unique because it was the first
air-to-ain missile that did not need to be guided by its launch aircraft — it
could be launched against a target designated by another aircraft or ground
radar station. It used a scramjet propulsion system that gave it extremely long
range, in excess of eighty; miles, and a top speed of over five times the speed
of sound, making it capable even against incoming ballistic missiles or reentry
ballistic missile warheads. Once in the predetermined vicinity of the enemy
aircraft, the Anaconda activated its onboard radar and infrared sensors to
locate its target, or it could continue to home in on sensor signals passed
from other aircraft.

           
“We can’t launch missiles—the bomb
bay doors are inhibited from opening when we’re in takeoff or land mode,”
Deverill reminded her.

 
          
“Then
override it!” Annie shouted.

           
“We still can’t do it,” Nancy
Cheshire radioed to the crew from the “virtual cockpit.” “We never tested a
missile launch from this high angle of attack or this configuration. We don’t know
how the missile will fly if we launch it in your present configuration or
airspeed. It could fail to stabilize, the wingtip cortices or uneven flow
patterns from the flaps and slats could disrupt it during the rocket pulse, the
missile could accidentally arm—dozens of things. It just hasn’t been tested!”

 
          
“Dammit,
I don't care! Override the lockouts and launch those suckers!”

 
          
“Stand
by,”
Cheshire
finally said, after a momentary pause. A
few moments later: “Try to prearm the weapons, Dev.”

           
Deverill spoke “Ready Anaconda missiles”
into the voice-command computer.

           
“AIM 152 ready,
” the
computer responded, and it presented a target reticle in his electronic visor.
Deverill looked at the attacking enemy aircraft, centering the bat wing symbol
in the center-aiming reticle, and spoke: “Attack.”

 
          
“
Warning,
aircraft configuration error,''
the attack computer responded, then added
the computer's next recommended command:
“No attack. Ready.
”

 
          
“Override
configuration error and attack,” Duane said.

 
          
“Warning,
configuration error override, aircraft still out of launch parameters, ” the
computer responded. “AIM 152 in range. Recommend launch two. Ready. ”

           
“Launch two,” Deverill ordered.

 
          
“Warning,
launch command received, stop launch
. . .
hay doors opening partial
...
missile one away, seven remaining
...
launcher rotating
.. .
missile
two away, six remaining
...
bay doors closed,
” the computer
responded. When the bomb bay doors opened, it felt as if the entire bottom of
the EB-1C Vampire was ready to shake off. But seconds later, both AIM-152
Anaconda missiles could be seen for a brief instant flying off into the murky
sky, trailing a wobbly line of fire through the storm-filled sky. Moments
later, as the missiles accelerated through Mach 2, they heard two distinct
BOOMs
as the missiles’ scramjet motors ignited.

 
          
Just
then, the triangle from the bat-wing symbol turned from yellow to red. “Oh,
shit, missile launch!” Annie exclaimed. “You bastards ... c’mon, Anaconda baby,
nail that sucker!” A few seconds later, the triangle changed from red to
yellow, then to green again. “What happened?”

           
“Jammers,” Deverill said. “The
MC-130P has almost as many electronic jammers as a bomber. They might have just
saved their lives.”

 
          
It
did. Exactly thirty-seven seconds after launch, the computer reported,
“Splash
one target,
” along with the next recommended command:
“Attack target
two.
”

 
          
The
second Su-27 Flanker made several heading and altitude changes, as if uncertain
what had happened or what to do. He made a complete one-eighty, scanning the
skies around him—and then the triangle disappeared and a green, then yellow
circle appeared around the bat wing. “He’s got
us
locked up!” Annie
shouted. “Get that SOB!”

 
          
Deverill
centered the target reticle on the second Flanker. “Attack,” he ordered. The computer
gave him the same warnings as before, and as before, Deverill overrode them and
ordered, “Launch two.”

 
          
“
Warning, launch command received, stop launch . .. bay doors opening. . .
missile three away, five remaining... launcher rotating...”

           
But the first missile did not appear
from under the belly. The EB-1C hit a patch of turbulence right at the instant
the missile was ejected from its rotary launcher. The ejector’s push was
canceled out. so the missile failed to push free of the bomb bay doors. Instead
of a smooth
SWOOOSH!
of a successful launch, they felt a tremendous
BANG!
as the missile struck one of the bomb bay doors. Instead of falling free, the
missile clattered underneath the partially open bomb doors, caught in the
disturbed air swirling under the bomber caused by the deployed flaps and slats
and the bomber’s high nose-up flight attitude.

 
          
“Missile
four...”

           
“Stop launch!” Deverill screamed
into the voice-command system.

           
But it was too late. “...
away,
four remaining,
” the computer spoke. The second missile shot off the
launcher—smack into the first missile, still caught under the bomb bay. The
first missile went spinning out of control, thumping hard against the bottom of
the Vampire’s fuselage until it reached the number- two engine’s intake. It
bounced hard off the mouth of the intake, nearly cracking the entire nacelle
off the wing. The disruption of airflow caused the number-one and -two engine
to do a double compressor stall—the fire was still on inside the ngines, but
now there was no smooth airflow directing air nd hot gases out through them.
The overtemp automatically aused the power-plant control computer to shut both
engines down.

 
          
The
sudden yaw created by the loss of both engines momentarily sent the EB-1C
bomber into a wild left skid. This sent the second Anaconda missile back
bumping across the belly until it reached the hot exhaust of the number-two engine—where
it exploded. Luckily, the computer had already shut the engines down, or else
the explosion of the Anaconda missile’s sixty-pound fragmentation warhead,
added to the white-hot jet fuel from the engines, would have destroyed the aircraft
instantly.

           
Even with full right stick and full
right rudder, Annie Dewey :ould not keep the plane flying straight—it was in a
severe left yaw no matter how hard she struggled and trimmed. Duane grabbed his
control stick to help, and he couldn’t believe what he felt—a deep, heavy,
relentless vibration. “Annie ...
?”

 
          
“I’ve
got it, Dev, I’ve got it,” she responded. The strain and the vibration rattling
in her throat disguised her voice so much that she seemed like a completely
different person sitting across from him. “Check the warnings and cautions and
let me know what we got left.”