Ormack reached up to the overhead communications console and switched his command radio to channel eleven. “CATTLECAR, this is Dog Zero Two. We have the hostile at our twelve o’clock, seventy miles. Closing on an intercept course. Requesting instructions from HAWC Alpha as soon as possible.”
“Break. Zero ‘No, this is HAWC Alpha. You can’t do anything up there, John. We’re vectoring in the F-16s now. Get out of the area as fast as you can. Over.”
“I’ve got a lock-on and I’m turning for an I.D. intercept, Alpha,” Ormack answered back. “I can turn it into a radar pass at any time. Just say the word.”
“Sixty miles.”
“He’s got two Scorpion missiles, John,” Elliott said. “Repeat — he’s armed with two live Scorpions. You won’t have a chance. Disengage and leave the area—”
“I’ve got two Scorpions too, General. Plus I’ve got jammers that can counter the Scorpion’s active radar. He doesn’t.”
“He can fly circles around your Scorpions—”
Ormack interrupted again. “I can engage him, maybe force him to turn back, maybe knock the sonofabitch down. Or I can let him fly our plane to Central America or wherever the hell he’s going. Which is it going to be?”
No immediate reply. Ormack nodded — he’d gotten his answer. “Radar, change to Scorpion-attack profile. Crew, prepare to engage hostile air target.”
Frost had his finger on the function key and hit it even before Ormack finished giving the order. Immediately the Old Dog heeled over into forty degrees of bank, then abruptly rolled out. It was now aiming for a spot several miles along DreamStar’s flight path, projecting out to intersect the fighter’s path at the AIM-120C’s optimum flight range. Ormack pushed his throttles up to full power, then reached over to his left-side panel and flipped a gang-barred four-way switch. “Guns, you have Scorpion missile launch consent.”
“Confirmed,” Angelina Pereira replied. “Left pylon on automatic launch, missile counting down … twenty seconds to launch.”
On the UHF radio Ormack said, “CATTLECAR, this is Dog Zero Two. Clear airspace for red fox engagement. Be advised, red buzzer activity on all frequencies. Dog Zero Two out.” On interphone Ormack said, “Defense, clear for electronic countermeasures. Crew, prepare for air combat engagement.”
“Fifteen seconds …”
Suddenly a metallic, computer-modified voice cut in on the frequency: “Dog Zero Two, disengage. I’m warning you.” Khan looked puzzled. “Who the hell was …?”
“ANTARES. The master computer on DreamStar.” Ormack flipped to the channel. “This is Dog Zero Two. Who’s this?”
“This is Colonel Andrei Ivanschichin Maraklov, General Ormack.” Maraklov thought before continuing: should he give his American name? But he was never going to return to America — the KGB or the CIA would see to that — and they would find out anyway. “You know me as Captain Kenneth Francis James, sir.”
Ormack swore through his oxygen mask. “Goddamn — Ken James stole DreamStar.” He switched his command radio to channel eleven. “Alpha, monitor GUARD channel. Urgent.” He then quickly switched his radio to the universal emergency frequency, GUARD.
“James — Ken — Mara … whatever the hell it is … land that plane immediately. I have orders to attack.” On interphone he told Angelina Pereira to get ready to cancel the auto attack.
“Yes, sir … ten seconds.”
“Turn off your attack radar immediately, General Ormack,” the computerized voice of Maraklov on the emergency channel said, “or I will have no choice but to defend myself.”
“Damn it, James, you’re about ten seconds from getting your ass blown out of the sky. Decrease speed and lower your landing gear, or I’ll engage.”
No reply.
“Five seconds … four … three … “
“Any change in his airspeed or heading?”
“Negative,” from Frost. “Still goin’ full blast …”
“Launch commit,” Angelina said.
There was a muffled screech of rocket exhaust from the left wing, as the first Scorpion missile raced out of its streamlined canister. It ran on course toward its quarry. Unlike previous air-to-air missiles, the C-version of the Scorpion did not glide or cruise to its target; even though it was still considered a medium-range missile it stayed powered throughout its flight.
“Uplink tracking … missile now tracking … dead on course …”
The bands of yellow, signifying the B-52’s tracking radar illuminating his aircraft, suddenly changed to red. Maraklov caught a chill. This was real, Ormack wasn’t bluffing. This Dog Zero Two had live missiles on board, and he was under attack. By a B-52 bomber …
He activated his attack radar. The radar image of the B-52, still over fifty miles away, seemed the size of a flying mountain. His radar wasn’t picking it up but he knew the missile was only seconds from impact. His reactions were executed at the speed of thought …
He turned right toward the B-52, exposing only the minimum radar cross-section of his aircraft possible. He then began a series of high-speed reversals using the canards in their high-maneuverability mode, not rolling into each turn but sidestepping, darting back and forth, keeping only DreamStar’s front cross-section aimed toward the B-52. The B-52 would be carrying AIM-120C, same as DreamStar. The AIM-120 was a fabulous weapon, with big fins to steer it toward its target. But its developers ten years earlier had never envisaged an aircraft that could move sideways like DreamStar.
Maraklov continued to shoot back and forth for another two seconds, completing two full horizontal S-slides, making each dodge wider than the other, using his high-maneuverability canards to keep DreamStar’s nose pointed at where he thought the missile would be. It was a gamble. With each turn, he hoped, the Scorpion missile would have to make bigger and bigger turns to maintain lock-on. As DreamStar’s side-steps got bigger, the missile’s turn rates had to increase even faster to keep up — not fast enough, he hoped, for the missile to track its target at close range.
He was at the top of a right ninety-degree bank and about to execute another hard left break when he heard and felt a sharp bang to his left. He had been very lucky this time. Forced farther and farther out of phase, the missile was opposite his canopy when its proximity warhead detected it was within lethal range. Maraklov waited for the concussion and flak to hit, but nothing happened) and all systems reported with a good status check when queried by an instantaneous mental command. Then Maraklov realized the Megafortress must have been on a test flight and so would not have live warheads in its missiles. Which diminished but hardly eliminated their threat.
He had never paid much attention to the Megafortress Plus project, thinking of it as just another one of Elliott’s eccentric boondoggles. Another underestimation …
A quick flash of his all-aspect-attack radar showed the B-52 maneuvering hard right, moving back into attack position, its huge wings pulling it easily around and behind him. The enormous plane had to be pulling at least four or five G’s, Maraklov thought. It was enough force to rip the wings off any conventional bomber and many fighters as well. Ormack obviously meant business, and he had the hardware to back him up. This was no place for a fight, even with a supposedly decrepit B-52.
ANTARES, however, always favoring the offensive, was begging for a fight and had recommended a high yo-yo maneuver — a hard vertical pull, zoom over the top, then an inverted dive to lock-on — to pull behind and above the B-52 to get into missile-firing position. Maraklov queried about fueclass="underline" now he was two thousand pounds below the fuel curve instead of two thousand pounds above it. He had no time to waste with a missile pass. Every time ANTARES activated its attack radar, even in small, frequency-agile bursts, the B-52 would jam it. ANTARES was being forced to use older and older data to process an attack. Besides, if the B-52 could jam DreamStar’s phased-array radar, it could easily jam the AIM-120’s conventional pulse-Doppler active radar. It was definitely time to bug out. Maraklov canceled the right high-G yo-yo and pulled into a sharp left turn, using radar to clear terrain until he could get established on course again.