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  sustainer motor kicked on, accelerating the missile to Mach one. A

  radar altimeter kept the missile precisely at one hundred feet above the

  choppy waters until it hit the easternmost barge and exploded six

  seconds after launch. The pointed titanium armor-piercing warhead

  section thruster cap of the Fei Lung missile allowed the missile to

  drive through the thin steel hull of the outermost barge before

  detonating the warhead. The four-hundred-pound high-explosive warhead

  created a massive firestorm all across the Philippine oil platform,

  spraying red-hot chunks of metal and propellant for hundreds of yards in

  every direction. A wall of fire caused by a wave of burning petroleum

  washed across Phu Qui Island, swirling into an inverted tornado that

  defied the late summer rains and stabbed skyward. Captain Han watched

  the spectacular firestorm that was once a Philippine oil derrick for

  several moments until he realized that the Wenshan had returned to an

  even keel and that the forward 76-millimeter gun had opened fire on the

  platform, pounding the mountain of flames with twenty kilogram

  radar-guided shells. "Cease fire!" Han shouted at his officer of the

  deck, who was staring in rapt fascination out the forward windshield at

  the maelstrom. "Cease fire!" he repeated before the forward 76 was

  silent. "Helm! Move us out to two kilometers from the island. Signal

  the motor launches and the Hong Lung that we are maneuvering out of

  shoal water." As Wenshan eased away from the huge fires still raging on

  the Philippine oil barges, Xingyi launched two more missiles at the

  barge until Admiral Yin on the Hong Lung ordered him to stop. One Fei

  Lung missile was quite enough to suppress any hostile fire from the

  small oil facility, and two missiles would have completely destroyed

  it-four missiles, half the Xingyi 's load, could devastate an aircraft

  carrier. Admiral Yin's intent was clear-he wanted no one alive on that

  platform. "Seven, this is the Dragon, " the radio message began.

  "Recover your boarding parties and rejoin the group. Over." Captain Han

  picked up the radio microphone himself. "I copy, Dragon, " Han replied.

  "I recommend that one of my motor launches search for survivors. Over."

  "Request denied, Seven, " came the reply. "Dragon Leader orders all

  Dragon units to withdraw." One hour later, all traces of the Philippine

  oil derrick and barges were swept away in the rising tide of the

  windswept South China Sea currents. Except for a few pieces of pipe and

  half-burned bodies, the oil platform had ceased to exist. MALACANANG

  PALACE, MANILA, THE PHILIPPINES THURSDAY, 9 JUNE 1994, 0602 HOURS LOCAL

  Since the Marcos years, the official residence of the Philippine

  President, Malacanang Palace, had undergone a major transformation.

  Concerned for his security, Marcos had transformed the graceful

  eighteenth-century Spanish colonial mansion into an ugly fortress-he had

  blocked most of the windows and replaced stained glass and crystal with

  steel or reinforced bulletproof glass. Wishing to distance her

  government from the dictatorial excesses of the Marcos regime, Corazon

  Aquino had chosen to live in the less pretentious Guest House and had

  turned the palace into a museum of shame, where citizens and tourists

  could gape in wonder at Marcos' underground bunker-some called it his

  "torture chambers"-and Imelda's cavernous bedroom, stratospheric canopy

  bed; her infamous shoe closets and her bulletproof brassiere. The new

  President of the Philippines, seventy-year-old Arturo Mikaso, changed

  the Malacanang Palace back into a historical landmark that his people

  could be proud of, as well as a livable residence for himself and a

  workable office complex 46ions of Malacanang Palace were now open for

  tours when they were not in use by the President. In time the palace

  again became a symbol for the city of Manila itself. But now, in the

  growing summer dawn, the palace was the scene of a hastily arranged

  meeting of the President's Cabinet. In Mikaso's residential office,

  where the President could see the Pasig River that wound through

  northern Manila, President Mikaso sipped a cup of tea. Mikaso was the

  elder statesman, a white-haired man who was taller and more

  powerful-looking than most Filipinos, a wealthy landowner and ex-senator

  who was immensely popular with most of his people. Mikaso had been

  elected as President of the nation when Corazon Aquino's second

  four-year term came to an end. He won the election only after forming

  an alliance with the National Democratic Front, the main political organ

  of the Communist Party of the Philippines; and the Moro National

  Liberation Front, a pro-Islamic political group that represented the

  thousands of citizens of the Islamic faith in the south Philippines.

  "How many were killed, General?" Mikaso asked. "Thirty men, all

  civilians, " the Chief of Staff of the New Philippine Army, General

  Roberto La Loma Santos, replied somberly. "Their barge came under full

  attack by a Red Chinese patrol. No orders to surrender, no quarter

  given, no attempts to offer assistance or rescue the attack. The

  bastards attacked, then slinked away like cowardly dogs." A tall,

  dark-haired man, standing alone near the great stone fireplace, turned

  toward General Santos. "You have still not explained to us, General, "

  Second Vice President J~~e Trujillo Samar said in a deep voice, "what

  that barge was doing in the neutral zone, anchored to Pagasa Island. .

  "And what are you implying, Samar?" First Vice President Daniel

  Teguina, who was seated near the President's desk, challenged. Teguina

  was politically an ally of Samar but ideologically a complete opposite.

  Part of the coalition formed during the 1994 elections was the

  appointment of forty-one year-old Daniel Teguina. Much younger than

  Mikaso, Teguina was not only a vice president, but also the leader of

  the Philippine House of Representatives, an ex-military officer,

  newspaper publisher, and leader of the National Democratic Front, a

  leftist political organization. With General J~~e Trujillo Samarwho

  besides being the second vice president was also governor of the newly

  formed Commonwealth of Mindanao, which had won the right to form its own

  autonomous commonwealth in 1990-these three men formed a fiery coalition

  that, although successful in continuing the important post-Marcos

  rebuilding process in the Philippines, was stormy and divisive. "Those

  were innocent Filipino workers on the barge.. ." said Teguina. Samar

  nodded and said, "Who were illegally drilling for oil in the neutral

  zone. Did they think the Chinese were going to just sit back and watch

  them work?"

  "They were not drilling for oil, just taking soundings, " said Teguina.

  "Well, they had no business there, " Samar insisted. "The Chinese

  Navy's actions were outrageous, but those workers were in clear

  violation of the law."

  "You're a cold bastard, " Teguina cut in. "Blaming the dead for an act

  of aggression "Enough, enough, " the elderly Mikaso said wearily,

  gesturing for the men to stop. "I did
not call you here to argue.

  Teguina glared at both men. "Well, we can't just sit back and do

  nothing. The Chinese just launched a major act of aggression. We must

  do something. We must-"

  "Enough, " Mikaso interrupted. "We must begin an investigation and find

  out exactly why that barge was operating in those waters, then. "Sir, I

  recommend that we also step up patrols in the Spratly Island area, "

  General Santos said. "This may be a prelude to a full-scale invasion of

  the Spratlys by the Chinese."

  "Risky, " Samar concluded. "A naval response would be seen as

  provocative, and we have no way of winning any conflict with the

  People's Liberation Navy. We would gain nothing... "Always the general,

  eh, Samar?" Teguina asked derisively. He turned away from him to the

  President. "I agree with General Santos. We have a navy, however

  small-I say to send them to protect our interests in the Spratlys. We

  have an obligation to our people to do nothing short of that." Arturo

  Mikaso looked at each of his advisers in turn and nodded in agreement.

  Little did he realize the extraordinary chain of events he was about to

  set into motion with that slight nod of his head. OVER NEW MEXICO, 100

  MILES SOUTH OF ALBUQUERQUE 9 JUNE 1994, 0745 HOURS LOCAL with his boyish

  face, long, gangly arms and legs, his baseball cap, and his

  thirty-two-ounce squeeze bottle of Pepsi-Cola-he drank five such bottles

  a day yet was still as skinny as a rail-Jonathan Colin Masters resembled

  a kid at a Saturday afternoon ball game. He had bright-green eyes and

  short brown hair-luckily, the baseball cap hid Masters' hair, or else

  his stubborn cowlicks would have made him appear even younger, almost

  adolescent, to the range officers and technicians standing nearby.

  Masters, his assistants and technicians, and a handful of Air Force and

  Defense Advanced Research and Projects Agency (DARPA) officials were on

  board a converted DC-10 airliner, forty-five thousand feet over the

  White Sands Missile Test Range in south-central New Mexico. Unlike the

  military and Pentagon officials, who were poring over checklists, notes,

  and schematics, Masters had his feet up on a raised track in the cargo

  section of the massive airliner, sipping his cola and smiling like a kid

  who was at the circus for the first time. "The winds are kicking up

  again, Doctor Masters, " U.S. Air Force Colonel Ralph Foch said to

  Masters, his voice one of concern. Masters wordlessly tipped his soda

  bottle at the Air Force range safety officer and reached to his control

  console, punched in instructions to the computer, and studied the

  screen. "Carrier aircraft has compensated for the winds, and ALARM has

  acknowledged the change, " Masters reported. "We got it covered,

  Ralph." Colonel Ralph Foch wasn't mollified, and being called "Ralph" by

  a man-no, a kid-twenty years his junior didn't help. "The

  one-hundred-millibar wind patterns are approaching the second-stage 'Q'

  limits, Doctor, " Foch said irritably. "That's the third increase over

  the forecast we've seen in the past two hours. We should consider

  aborting the flight." Masters glanced over his shoulder at Foch and

  smiled a dimpled, toothy smile. "ALARM compensated OK, Ralph, " Masters

  repeated. "No need to abort."

  "But we're on the edge of the envelope as it is, " Colonel Foch reminded

  him. "The edge of your envelope, Ralph, " Masters said. He got to his

  feet, walked a few steps aft, and patted the nose of a huge,

  torpedo-shaped object sitting on its launch rail. "You established your

  flight parameters based on data I provided, and you naturally made your

  parameters more restrictive. ALARM here knows its limits and it still

  says go. So we go. "Doctor Masters, as the range safety officer I'm

  here to insure a safe launch for both the ground and the air crews. My

  parameters are established to-"

  "Colonel Foch, if you want to abort the mission, say the word, " Masters

  said calmly, barely suppressing a casual burp. "The Navy doesn't get

  their relay hookup satellites on the air until tomorrow, you can spend

  the night at the Blytheville, Arkansas, Holiday Inn again, and I can

  bill DARPA another one hundred thousand dollars for gas. It's your

  decision."

  "I'm merely expressing my concern about the winds at altitude, Doctor

  Masters . . "And I replied to your concerns, " Masters said with a

  smile. "My little baby here says it's a go. Unless we fly somewhere

  else to launch, away from the jet stream . . "DARPA is very specific

  about the launch area, Doctor. These satellites are important to the

  Navy. They want to moni tor the booster's progress throughout the

  flight. The launch must be over the White Sands range. "Fine. Then we

  continue to monitor the winds and let the computers do their jobs. If

  they can't properly compensate without going outside the range, we turn

  around on the racetrack and try again. If we go outside the launch

  window, we abort. Fair enough?" Foch could do nothing but nod in

  agreement. This launch was important to both the Navy and Air Force,

  and he wasn't prepared to issue a launch abort unilaterally. The object

  called ALARM that Masters so lovingly regarded was the Air Launched

  Alert Response Missile; there were two of the huge missiles on board the

  DC-10 that morning. ALARM was a four-stage space booster designed to

  place up to three-quarter-ton payloads in low-to-medium Earth orbit by

  launching the booster from the cargo hold of an aircraft-in effect, the

  DC-10 was the ALARM booster's first stage, with the other three stages

  provided by powerful solid-fuel rockets on the missile itself. The ALARM

  missile had a long, slender, one-piece wing that swiveled out from its

  stowed position along the missile's fuselage after launch. The wing

  would supply lift and increase the effectiveness of the solid rocket

  motors while the booster was in the atmosphere, which greatly increased

  the power and payload capability of the booster. An ALARM booster could

  carry as much as fifteen hundred pounds in its ten-foot-long,

  forty-inch-diameter payload bay. On today's mission, each of Masters'

  ALARM boosters carried four small two-hundred-pound communications

  satellites, which Jon Masters, in his own inimitable way, called

  NIRTSats-"Need It Right This Second" satellites. Unlike more

  conventional satellites, which weighed hundreds or even thousands of

  pounds, were placed in high geosynchronous orbits almost twenty-three

  thousand miles above the Equator, and could carry dozens of

  communications channels, NIRTSats were small, lightweight satellites

  which carried only a few communications channels and were placed in low,

  one-hundred-to-one-thousand-mile orbits. Unlike geosynchronous

  satellites, which orbited the Earth once per day and therefore appeared

  to be stationary over the Equator, NIRTSats orbited the Earth once every

  ninety to three hundred minutes, which meant that usually more than one

  satellite had to be launched to cover a particular area. But a NIRTSat

  cost less than one-fiftieth the price of a fullsized satellite, and it

/>   cost less to insure and launch as well. Even with a constellation of

  four NIRTSats, a customer with a need for satellite communications could

  get it for less than one-third the price of buying "air time" on an

  existing satellite. A single ALARM booster launch, which cost only ten

  million dollars from start to finish, could give a customer instant

  global communications capability from anywhere in the world-and it took

  only a few days to get the system in place, instead of the months or

  even years it took for conventional launches. NIRTSats could be

  repositioned anywhere in orbit if requirements changed, and Masters had

  even devised a way to recover a NIRTSat intact and reuse it, which saved

  the customer even more money. Masters' customer this day was, as it

  usually was, the Department of Defense, which was why all the military

  observers were on hand. Masters was to place four NIRTSats in a

  four-hundred-mile-high polar orbit over the western Pacific to provide

  the Navy and Air Force with specialized, dedicated voice, data,

  air-traffic control, and video communications between ships, aircraft,

  and land-based controllers. With the NIRTSat constellation in place, the

  Navy's Seventh Fleet headquarters and the Air Force's Pacific Air Force

  headquarters could instantly talk with and find the precise locations of

  every ship and aircraft on the network. Coupled with the military's

  Global Positioning System satellite navigation system, NIRTSats would

  continually transmit flight or sailing data on each aircraft or vessel

  to their respective headquarters, although the vessels might be far

  outside radio range. The second ALARM booster carried another four

  NIRTSat satellites and was aboard as a backup if the first launch

  failed. Jon Masters' cocky attitude toward this important launch made

  Colonel Foch very uncomfortable. But, he thought, the little snot had

  every reason to feel cocky-in two years of testing and over two dozen

  launches, not one ALARM booster had ever failed to do its thing, and not

  one NIRTSat had ever failed to function. It was, Foch had to admit,

  quite a testament to the genius of Jonathan Colin Masters. Worse, the

  bastard was so young. Boy genius was an understatement. When Jon