Fatal Terrain Page 5

  is rightfully ours!" Admiral Sun shouted, sweeping his copy

  of the war plans onto the floor. "We are doomed to failure

  28 DALE BROWN

  unless-we commit ourselves to using every weapon in our

  arsenal."

  "That is quite enough, Comrade Admiral," Qian intedected

  sternly. "The war plans do not call for the use of nuclear

  weapons against our own province-may I remind you that

  the island of Formosa is our territory, our twenty-third prov-

  ince-and it does not call for using nuclear weapons against

  the Americans, South Koreans, Japanese, or anyone else. I

  think this news has unsettled you. You appear to be on the

  verge of a mental breakdown." And that was the end of the

  discussion.

  This was a travesty, Sun Ji Guorning thought, as the others

  filed out of the conference room-for all he cared, the war

  plans didn't exist. China was completely unprepared for what

  had just happened and what was about to happen.

  Sun Ji Guoming had his own plans, and they had nothing

  to do with missile and air bombardments or massive naval

  engagements. Taiwan could be taken, without prompting war

  with the United States or hatred from the other Asian nations.

  It would be simple to isolate Taiwan, even from its staunchest

  supporters.

  But capturing Taiwan and making it part of Zhongguo again

  was not the most important mission facing them right now-

  the biggest threat was the domination of the United States in

  every aspect of life in the Far East. 'Me Americans' ability to

  project its military power throughout this region was crushing

  China's struggle to take its placeas the most important power

  in Asia. Yes, the Americans' military might was awesome, its

  technological superiority enormous. But Asia was far away,

  mysterious; its military had been greatly downsized, its econ-

  omy was unsteady, its leadership tenuous. America's influence

  on its Asian allies was not as strong as it once was.

  Sun believed that he had a way to topple the great United

  States of America off its perch-and now was the time to do

  it.

  "ONE WHO SPEAKS

  DEFERENTIALLY BUT INCREASES HIS

  PREPARATIONS WILL ADVANCE;

  ONE WHO SPEAKS BELLIGERENTLY

  AND ADVANCES HASTILY

  WILL RETREAT."

  -Sun-Tzu,

  'Me An of War

  OVER AMERICAN-PROTECTED AIRSPACE

  MONDAY, 26 MAY 1997, 0741 HOURS PT

  (1041 HOURS ET)

  ATTENTION, DATALINK BOGEY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK LOW,

  "Sharon" reported.

  U. Air Force Major Scott Mauer saw the flashing diamond

  floating before his eyes even before the computer-synthesized

  female voice they had named "Sharon"-after actress Sharon

  Stone, whose voice could have been an exact duplicate of the

  computer's-issued its advisory. Mauer immediately jammed

  his back and butt deeper into the ejection seat of his F-22

  Lightning fighter and locked the inertial reel, securing himself

  tightly in his seat. The action was about to start.

  Mauer moved his head until a circular target designator

  symbol centered on the diamond symbol, then toggled the ra-

  dio transmit button on his right throttle quadrant down to the

  "intercom" position and said, "Lock bogey." "Sharon" was

  much more than a verbal warning system as the first-

  29

  30 DALE BROWN

  generation "Bitchin' Bettys" had been in earlier fighters-

  Sharon had a five-thousand-word vocabulary, could respond

  to questions with a surprisingly human voice, and could acti-

  vate almost all of the F-22's subsystems. It was more akin to

  a human copilot than a computer.

  BOGEY LOCKED, Sharon replied, and instantly a box sur-

  rounded the white diamond symbol and the bogey's flight in-

  formation-speed, altitude, heading-displayed in midair.

  Mauer's F-22 Lightning, the Air Force's newest air-superiority

  fighter'and attack plane, was equipped with the new "super-

  cockpit" system, which included a helmet-mounted virtual

  display (VD), replacing the standard heads-up display mounted

  atop the instrument panel with symbols and information that

  could be seen no matter where the pilot looked-left, right,

  straight down, or even backward, the pilot could always "see"

  his flight and target readouts. Most of the heads-down cockpit

  dials, gauges, and multifunction displays in the F-22 fighter

  had also been replaced with three seamless color computer

  monitors that could be configured to display anything the pilot

  wished to see-radar, infrared, digital map, satellite photos,

  text, or flight instruments-called up and displayed by asking

  the computer or by touching the screen.

  "Interrogate the bogey," Mauer ordered.

  INTERROGATING ... Sharon the computer replied; then, after

  a short pause: NEGATIVE REPLY. Sharon had sent out an IFF

  (Identification Friend or Foe) signal, to which only friendly

  aircraft would reply. The white diamond in Mauer's VD

  changed to red-it was no longer just a "bogey," an uniden-

  tified aircraft. It was now a "bandit," a hostile aircraft.

  Mauer was a ten-year Air Force fighter veteran and knew

  how to close in and kill a hostile aerial target from any direc-

  tion, speed, or attitude, but the attack computer system was

  new and he wanted to put it through its paces. He keyed the

  intercom button: "Give me an intercept vector on the bandit."

  SAY AGAIN, PLEASE, Sharon replied in a surprisingly seduc-

  tive voice.

  Mauer took a deep breath, containing his frustration and

  forcing himself to relax. "Say again, please" was Sharon's

  favorite phrase. The computer system did not need voice

  coaching for individual pilots, but if a pilot started to get ex-

  cited or hurried, the computer would not understand his voice

  commands. Mauer touched the supercockpit screen to call up

  FATAL TERRAIN 31

  the weapons status display and moved it with his finger to the

  upper right comer of the suPercOckpit display-in case his

  voice commands wouldn't take, he was ready to finish the

  intercept without it. "I said, display intercept vector on the

  bandit.

  She understood that time, and a twin-tiered 3-D ribbonlike

  Path appeared in thin air. Naturally distrustful of computers to

  do their thinking for them, pilots called the computer's attack

  recommendation the

  "Primrose Path." Despite its name, how-

  ever, it was not a bad recommendation, Mauer thought-high,

  left rear quarter, the westbound bandit's pilot would be looking

  into the rising sun trying to find him-so he decided to follow

  it. Mauer maneuvered the F-22 so he was flying in between

  the two Parallel ribbons, then ordered, "Engage the autopilot

  on the intercept course."

  AUTOPILOT ENGAGED, Sharon verified. The autopilot would

  now automatically fly the entire intercept. Mauer was a good

  stick and he loved flying, but unlike most of his fighter-jock

  colleagues, he wasn't
afraid to let the ultrasophisticated com-

  puters relieve some of the workload. The "Primrose path"

  pulled Mauer's F-22 into a steep descent, and Mauer kept the

  throttles at just below mil power and let the airspeed build up

  toward the Mach. With all of its weapons and fuel stored in-

  temally, the F-22 had few speed restrictions-it could go to

  its max speed of Mach 1.5 at any time in clean configuration,

  and the Lightning liked to go fast. Its weapons bay doors

  opened inwardly as well, so there was no speed restriction on

  missile launch either.

  The intercept was workine out perfec

  UY. SO far the bandit

  was cruising along fat, duni6, and happy, still subsonic and

  Mostly traveling in a straight, uncomplicated course, flying low

  but not doing any real aggressive terrain masking. The radar

  lock was intermittent, but that was understandable, because

  Mauer's F-22 was not tracking the bandit. One hundred miles

  away, an Air Force E-3C Sentry AWACS (Airborne W g

  amin

  and Control System) radar plane had picked up the bandit and

  had datalinked the target information via the JTIDS (Joint Tar-

  get Information Distribution System) to Mauer's F-22, which

  processed and displayed the data as if the F-22's own radar

  were tracking the target. The bandit's threat radar warning re-

  ceiver would pick up only the AWACS, not the F-22. Even

  better, Mauer could launch the F-22's AIM-120 AMRAAMs

  32 DALE BROWN

  (Advanced Medium-Range Air To Air Missiles) using JTIDS

  information until the missile's own active radar picked up the

  target-he didn't even need the fighter's radar to launch his

  radar-guided missiles.

  "Recommend a weapon for the attack," Mauer asked on

  interphone. As before, he didn't need Sharon to tell him which

  missile to fire, but it was fun and educational to play with the

  new system. He purposely did not ask only for missiles but

  for any weapon, just to see if the computer would select the

  correct one.

  RECOMMEND AIM-120, Sharon replied, and both of the F-

  22's AMRAAM missiles depicted on the weapon status page

  blinked green. Mauer's Lightning was lightly loaded on this

  mission, and carried only two AIM-120s and two AIM-9P

  Sidewinder missiles in the weapons bay, plus five hundred

  rounds of ammunition for the 20-millimeter cannon.

  "Arm AIM-120."

  ROGER, Aim-120 ARMED, WARNING, MISSILE ARMED, Sharon

  responded, and the left AMRAAM missile changed from green

  to yellow, indicating it was powered up and receiving target

  and flight information from the attack computer.

  "Time to launch?"

  TEN SECONDS TO LAUNCH, Sharon responded, with only a

  hint of hesitation.

  They were still screaming earthward at 3,OW feet per min-

  ute, and the hills below were starting to become a factor.

  Mauer knew that he was getting a little target-fixated, so he

  expanded his look-down supercockpit display to a God's-eye

  view of the surrounding area. Only one other plane within fifty

  miles, and that was a friendly, another F-22. The "primrose

  path" was steering him around some high terrain-the navi-

  gation computer had all of the terrain elevations programmed-

  but he was still flying close to those hills. The computer-

  generated flight path was too gentle and not aggressive enough

  for Mauer's taste, so he laid his hands on the control stick and

  throttles and said, "Autopilot heading nav mode off, autopilot

  altitude nav mode off, fail-safe terrain avoidance mode on."

  ROGER, HEADING NAV OFF, ALTITUDE NAV OFF, WARNING,

  CHECK AUTOPILOT MODES, ROGER, TERRAIN AVOIDANCE MODE

  ENGAGED, Sharon replied. The F-22's terrain-avoidance mode

  would provide a last-second emergency fly-up in case he

  strayed too close to the ground or the hills.

  FATAL TERRAIN 33

  "Time to launch?"

  SAY AGAIN, PLEASE, Sharon replied. Mauer was getting ex-

  cited again-his voice was getting clipped, more high-pitched,

  and therefore harder for Sharon to understand. NO matter-he

  saw the time-to-launch countdown on his virtual display and

  didn't ask again. He was breathing faster and shallower. Relax,

  dammit, relax! he told himself You've got this intercept

  nailed. Even without Sharon's -help, he had it wired.

  Mauer now knew what the bandit's target was: the industrial

  site, the fifly-acre military weapons and research facility. It

  was imperative that this plant be protected. The Air Force had

  assigned two F-22 Lightning fighters, their most modem and

  high-tech warplane, to the industrial site's defense. A Patriot

  air defense missile site was active in the area, but with the F-

  22s operating in the area at the same time, the Patriot would

  be kept in reserve until the air defense fighters ran out of

  missiles.

  "Tell me when to shoot," Mauer said.

  MAX RANGE IN FIVE SECONDS ... MAX RANGE IN TH REE

  SECONDS TWO SECONDS ... ONE SECOND ... MAX IN

  RANGE ... OPTIMAL IN RANGE, Sharon said.

  Mauer keyed the intercom button: "AIM-120 shoot," he

  ordered.

  ROGER, AIM-120 SHOOT, AIM-120 SHOOT ... WARNING,

  WEAPONS DOOR OPENING ... AIM-120 AWAY. Mauer felt the

  rumble of the weapons doors sliding inwardly, felt the slapt

  of the gas ejectors forcing the left AMRAAM missi le into the

  supersonic slipstream, then saw a streak of white smoke arc

  across the sky from the belly of his Lightning fighter. The VD

  display showed an estimated "time to die" countdown: nine

  seconds ... eight ... seven ... six ... at five seconds, the AM-

  RAAM's own active radar seeker head activated, which would

  guide the missile in'the last few seconds of its kill....

  The bandit suddenly dipped from 1,000 feet above the ter-

  rain to fifty feet-literally in the blink of an eye!-then made

  an impossible left turn behind a tall butte. The AMRA",

  just seconds from impact, lost sight of its target. The missile's

  seeker head was only a ten-degree cone and its turn rate was

  about seven Gs-the bandit had turned ninety degrees and

  pulled fifteen, maybe twenty Gs. There was no way, no- way,

  any bomber could turn like that. The AMRAAM missile was

  1 PPP__

  34 DALE BROWN

  lost, smoothly and completely faked out by a move that would

  make Jerry Rice hang up his cleats.

  Mauer yanked the Lightning fighter left. "Radar on, lock

  on bandit. . . " But before the ship's radar could lock on and

  send new steering signals to the missile, it had plowed into the

  ground. Clean miss! That was the first time Mauer had ever

  seen an AMRAAM missile miss its intended target. What kind

  of bomber was this? The F-15E Strike Eagle was not this fast

  or agile with weapons aboard ... was it a foreign job, like the

  Japanese FS-X or a Messerschmidt X-31? Maybe an F-16XL

  cranked arrow ... ?

  Just then, Mauer glanced off to his right and saw it-a cloud

  of black smoke over the industrial site. Mau
er had been hoping

  to reacquire the bandit on this southbound jog before it turned

  westbound again toward the industrial site, but he was too late.

  The industrial site was hit. Dammit, looked like a direct fuck-

  ing hit-wait, no, not quite. The bad guy's intel was obviously

  poor-the hit was on the center of the big building, mostly

  crating and shipping stuff and empty space. The bandit got a

  hit, but it didn't do much harm!

  Westbound again, radar on in wide-area look-down search-

  got him! BANDIT ONE O'CLOCK LOW, TWELVE MILES, Sharon

  advised.

  "Lock bandit, an-n AIM-1201 AIM-120 shoot," Mauer or-

  dered immediately -

  BANDIT LOCKED... ROGER, AIM-120 ARMED, WARNING,

  WEAPONS ARMED... AIM- SHOOT, AIM-120 SHOOT, WARNING,

  WEAPONS DOORS OPENING. . .. Aim-120 AWAY, Sharon re-

  sponded in rapid-fire succession, and his last AMRAAM mis-

  sile was flying. But almost as soon as it launched, Mauer could

  see its white smoke trail wobbling, then breaking first hard to

  the left, then in a wide sharply arcing curve to the right, then

  again to the left in an even wider arc. He knew it was going

  to miss well before the -time to die" meter ran down to zero.

  That bandit had made two high-G Jinks that again beat the hell

  out of the highly maneuverable AIM-120 missile.

  Another cloud of black smoke-another hit on the industrial

  site, and this time it was on the smaller building southeast of

  the large building, where a lot of finished munitions and prod-

  Ucts were stored awaiting transportation. That son of a bitch

  had actually gone all the way around and reattached, with a

  fighter on his tail! He had balls, that's for sure-any mud-

  FATAL T E R RAI N 35

  mover worth his wings would hit, then get Out Of the defended

  area as fast as he could.

  Enough of this super-autowated datalink shit, Mauer

  thought-time to call in some help. They were supposed to

  stay off the voice radios and use the datalink as much as pos-

  throttles

  sible, but he was in deep shit and his first priority was to

  defend his territory. He rocked the radio switch on the

  UP to the UHF position: "Saber One-Two, this is One-One on