by Dale Brown
position to launch."
"We lose all our safety margins if we bypass the safety locks, Jon-" But
Philips could see that Masters didn't care. He punched in instructions
in the launch-control console to bypass the safety interlocks, which
usually prevented an armed but malfunctioning booster to be wheeled into
position for release. The interlocks prevented an accident on board the
plane and the inadvertent dropping of a live booster out the launch
baynow there were no safety backups. The bypass showed up immediately on
Helen Kaddiri's alternate launch-control board. "Jon, I've got an
'Unsafe Warning' light on. Is the booster locked down? I show the
interlocks off."
"I turned them off' Helen, " Jon said on interphone. He stood with a
flashlight at the mouth of the launch-bay airlock as the huge ALARM
booster was motored back into launch position. "We're checking the
umbilical plug."
"You can't do that, Jon, " Helen warned. "If it's more than just a plug
problem, the booster might proceed to a final launch countdown before
you can open the bay doors or before we can inhibit the ignition
sequence. You're cleaning a loaded gun with your finger on the trigger
and the hammer pulled back." Masters glanced up at the cylindrical
launch-bay airlock, which actually did resemble the chamber of a gun;
inside, he could see the nosecap of the Air-Launched Alert Response
Missile, which certainly resembled a bullet, as it motored into
position. His head was right in the muzzle. "Good analogy, Helen, " he
said wryly. The booster slid into position. "Try the umbilical
self-test, " Masters said to the launch-bay technician. A moment later,
Philips gave him his answer: That's it, Jon!" he said with a shout.
"There's a break in the umbilical connector-we had proper voltage but no
signal. Come out of there and we'll have it fixed in no time."
"Forget it. No time. I'll do it myself." Before anyone could say
anything else, Masters had scrambled inside the launch airlock and began
crawling down along the ALARM booster. "Jon, are you nuts?" the
technician said. "Helen, this is Red. Jon just crawled down into the
airlock. Put the interlocks back on. "No!" Masters radioed from inside
the launch airlock. "Continue the countdown."
"This is Kaddiri. I'm setting the interlocks, operator-initiated
countdown hold. Crewman in the launch airlock. Interlocks on. Just then
the self-test on the booster's umbilical ended with a satisfactory
reading. "Continuity restored... you got it, Jon, you got it, "
Philips said. "But we've passed the launch window." "Start the
countdown at T minus sixty, " Masters said. "The booster has the
endurance to make the corrections, and we built a little leeway into the
launch window. Continue the countdown... "I am not going to reactivate
the system until you are out of there, " Kaddiri said testily. "I'm out,
I'm out, " Masters said as his sneakers appeared from the muzzle of the
airlock. "Let's do it." Masters closed the airlock doors the second he
was out of the chamber. Philips gave him his portable oxygen bottle,
and he was just putting it on and strapping himself into his seat when
the airlock was depressurized. Less than sixty seconds later the booster
was on its way. "Good separation, good first-stage ignition, " Helen
reported as the forty-three-thousand-pound missile accelerated ahead of
the DC-10 and roared skyward. "Clear connectivity in all channels . .
. wings responding, swiveling on schedule . twenty seconds to
first-stage burnout. Masters waited a few more moments as Kaddiri
continued to monitor the launch, then said with a faint smile, "Well,
that was close. You know what happened? The plug was off by a fraction
of an inch. It was in close enough to report a closed and safe reading,
but there wasn't any data transfer. Worse, that would have only shown
up when the booster was in launch position and the interlocks were
removed. On the dock, it was hooked into a different data bus and
reported okay. No wonder we thought it was TDRS' fault." Kaddiri
continued to read off the booster's primary performance more for the
benefit of the mission voice recorder than anything else. The recorder
served as a backup to the computerized data-retrieval system. She
didn't say a word to Masters. Wouldn't even look at him. Masters
noticed the silence and fidgeted a bit. Every launch flight lately
seemed to bring out the worst in her. Where was her sense of adventure?
Forget it, he decided, she didn't have one. Still, she was part of his
team and he wanted to keep things on an even keel. "Good thing I caught
it, huh?" he asked almost sheepishly. "No, " Kaddiri said evenly, not
looking at him. She didn't want to go into it with him. Not now. They
were, after all, being recorded. Still, he had removed all the safety
interlocks, leaving them totally unprotected in case there'd been an
ignition-circuit malfunction or a guidance-computer malfunction. That
booster could have easily gone off in the cabin and killed them all.
Worse he'd reconnected a malfunctioning plug on a live booster. Who
knows, she wondered, what that would have done? Masters knew she was
reviewing the past few minutes and said, "Helen... it was on countdown
hold."
"Because I put it there, Jon." And, she thought, if we'd done it your
way and continued the countdown, Masters might be splashing down in the
Pacific right now, right behind our twenty-million-dollar booster-if the
thing didn't cook off first. "Well, " Masters said expansively, "it's
dead on course, dead on speed, dead on altitude. It'll be in orbit in
eight minutes and the friggin' Air Force can get a look at all that shit
going on in the Philippines."
"Whatever you say, Jon. "Helen, come on. "Drop it." And he did.
PALAWAN PASSAGE, NEAR ULUGAN BAY PALAWAN PROVINCE, THE PHILIPPINES
THURSDAY, 22 SEPTEMBER 1994, 0417 HOURS LOCAL The Hong Lung task force
had driven to within twenty kilometers of the fleeing Filipino fleet
when the first Shuihong-5 antiship flying boat arrived on the scene. The
Chinese flotilla was picking its way through a series of reefs and
shoals along the Palawan Passage on the west side of the island of
Palawan, the westernmost province of the Philippines. Most of the
island was remote and sparsely settled, but Ulugan Bay, the Filipino
fleet's obvious destination, had the best-outfitted port facilities at
Nanan. It was also only forty-five kilometers north of Puerto Princesa,
a former United States Air Force base on Palawan that was now a
Philippine Air Force base; that base was the largest airport on Palawan
and the center of the isolated island's meager population. "Talon
Eight-One, this is Dragon, " Admiral Yin Po L'un radioed to the pilot of
the flying boat. "Reconnoiter the Filipino attack fleet to the east.
Report on any hostile activity. Authorized to return fire if fired
upon. Warning, Chinese vessels have already been attacked and destroyed
by this combat group. Proceed with caution." It was a moot warning for
the Shu
ihong-5 crew-if they followed their previous pattern, the
Philippine vessels would fire on the flying boat. The Shuihong crew
would then return fire with their murderous cargo and destroy most of
the Filipino warships. But it did not happen. Several minutes later,
the pilot of the Shuihong-5 antiship aircraft reported, "Sir, Talon
Eight-One reporting. We are in contact with four surface vessels,
repeat, four vessels. The larger vessels identified as PF-class
frigates, repeat, two PF-class frigates. Two smaller, probably PS- or
LF-class patrol vessels. Over." "Commander Chow had reported possibly
two PS patrol boats out there, " Captain Lubu said. "He mentioned a
corvette... "But there are two frigates instead of two patrol boats, "
Yin said. "Chow can't identify ships very accurately at night at
distances over five kilometers, even with ISAR radar." Lubu nodded, not
quite convinced but accepting the explanation for now. "The PS patrol
boat is probably the Rizal identified as the helicopter platform, " he
added. "We should be on the lookout for another missile attack from the
helicopters."
"They're running, " Yin said confidently. "The fight has gone out of
the cowardly bastards. What is the status of the enemy ships now? Why
haven't they opened fire on the patrol plane?" A large patrol plane
like the Shuihong-5 was a major threat to any ships such as those of the
Filipinos', which had no antiaircraft missiles. "What is his range?"
"Nine kilometers, " Lubu reported, relaying the information from the
Combat section. "They detect search and navigation radar only-no
target-acquisition radars detected. He is awaiting instructions."
Incredible, Yin thought-how could the frigate captain stay so cool in
the face of an airborne hostile contact? Surely he must realize that
the Chinese Air Force had such strike aircraft in the region? And then
he realized that the Philippine vessels probably had no antiair weapons
other than their guns, which had a maximum range no farther than four to
five kilometers; the Hong Lung's Hong Qian-9 surface-to-air missile had
a range of about seventy kilometers, and Yin would not hesitate to use
them against any unidentified aircraft that flew within range of his
ship. "Close to five kilometers, maintain contact, report any change in
hostile status, " Yin ordered the patrol plane. "I want positive
identification of all vessels in that formation." The Shuihong-5 pilot
hesitated for a few long moments-he realized that his commanding officer
had just ordered him to fly within gun range of the Filipino vessels.
The pilot responded hesitantly, "Yes... sir. Talon Eight-One copies."
There were a few warning messages broadcast in English on international
emergency channels, but Yin ignored them all. The plane drove only a
few kilometers closer before the slowscan P-band air-search radar
switched to a high-PRF X-band fire-control radar, and soon, at precisely
five kilometers range between the largest ship in the Filipino battle
group, Admiral Yin heard the satisfyingly terrified voice of the pilot
screaming in the radio that he was under fire from heavy antiaircraft
artillery. "Return fire, " Admiral Yin ordered angrily. "Clear to
launch air-to-surface missiles. Stay out of gun range and at high
altitude; Dragon task force will be attacking as well." Yin turned to
Captain Lubu. "Are we receiving target telemetry from the patrol
plane?"
"Yes, sir, " Lubu responded, double-checking with his Combat Information
officers. The Shuihong-5 patrol plane could transmit radar data from
its Heracles II surface-search radar to other ships capable of accepting
the information; the Hong Lung could use this information to target the
Fei Lung-7 antiship missile as if it were picking up the radar data from
its own transmitters. "Very well, " Yin said smugly. "Begin our attack.
Launch two Fei Lung missiles from long range, get a strike report from
the plane, and re-attack with two more. I want this battle concluded as
quickly as possible, Lubu." PUERTO PRINCESA AIRFIELD, PALAWAN, THE
PHILIPPINES The naked young girl lying on Colonel Renaldo Tamalko's
chest was so thin and lithe that he inadvertently tossed her onto the
floor as he reached for the incessantly ringing phone. He grunted an
apology to the girl as he picked up the receiver. "What?"
"Command Post, Sergeant Komos, sir, " the voice of the NCO in charge of
the tiny Philippine Air Force base at Puerto Princesa, Palawan, replied.
"We've received an urgent message from a naval task force group west of
Palawan, requesting immediate assistance."
"Wait a second." Tamalko flicked on the light and rubbed his eyes
sleepily. All that registered to the Philippine Air Force squadron
commander was that his command post senior controller was excited, and
that usually meant bad news. The old window-mounted air conditioner was
on full force, but the room was still hot and steamy. He motioned
toward a glass of clear liquid on the table in the center of the room,
silently ordering the girl to bring it to him and hoping that it wasn't
more booze. He watched the young maid's gentle curves and tight butt as
she brought the glass over to him-she didn't look any older than
fourteen or fifteen, but her sexual skills were certainly well
developed, he thought. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back over to
him, and guided her hand back to his crotch. The glass had a bit of
whiskey mixed with several melted ice cubes, so he contented himself
with pouring the liquid over his face to help wake himself up. "Say
again, Sergeant?"
"A Navy captain Banio of the Thirty-first Patrol Group from Zamboanga
has issued a tactical emergency warning message to all military units, "
the NCO said. "He states that a Chinese naval force is in pursuit and
is approaching Palawan, about forty miles west of Ulugan Bay. He
requests immediate air support."
"A Chinese naval force? In pursuit? Of who? Pursuing him? What kind
of air support does he need? What the hell is going on out there?"
"We're trying to raise him again, sir, " Komos said. "There was a brief
radio message about an attack in progress, but no more details are
available."
"Shit, " Tamalko swore. Fucking Chinese. To Komos he said, "This had
better not be some kind of joke, Sergeant. Did you receive any kind of
verification? Was the message authenticated?" "No, sir, " the
controller replied. "Contact has not been reestablished." Tamalko swore
to himself. This could be some kind of drill or exercise-it was similar
to the kind of stuff the Americans liked to pull, when the Americans
used to be here. But since the Americans had been kicked out of the
Philippines, things had been very, very quiet... Too quiet, as matter of
fact. The Communist guerrillas, who were numerous and strong on Palawan
and the other outlying provinces, had stepped up their recruitment
drives and had certainly become much more active, but incidents of
violence were not as commonhe hadn't had one of his officers shot or
beaten up downtown in we
eks. Before the Americans departed, it seemed to
happen every weekend. As much as almost everyone in the military hated
having a Communist like Daniel Teguina as First Vice President, it was
obvious that his election had a stabilizing effect. Tamalko would
probably have shot the bastard if he met up with him in a dark alley,
but if, because Teguina was in office, the peasants liked him and quit
shooting up the villages, so much the better. So what was this shit
with a Chinese invasion? It had to be bogus, an exercise cooked up by
some know-nothing staffer in Manila. He had been involved with many
such scenarios with the American Navy and with other military units in
ASEAN, the Association of South East Asian Nations, whose member nations
frequently ran joint exercises with the newly independent Philippine
military. But bogus or not, Tamalko knew he had to act decisively. He
had to do everything he could to make sure that his cushy job here at
Puerto Princesa, one of the most beautiful seacoast towns in all the
world, was protected. Puerto Princesa was a diamond surrounded by
jungle and mountains, far enough from Manila to retain a very relaxed
atmosphere. He was in charge of a small squadron of F-4E
fighter-bombers and F-5R day fighters purchased from the United States,
and he also maintained the base for other miscellaneous military and
civilian air operations. There was no job on Earth better than his, and
he guarded it jealously. The girl was halfheartedly trying to arouse
Tamalko with a rather distracted pumping action, obviously hoping he
would leave soon so she could get some sleep. He pushed her head into
his crotch, watched her begin her work, which she did as if completely
bored, then turned back to his phone: "Sergeant, start a squadron recall
immediately. Tell Captain Libona in Maintenance to get two F-4s fueled
and ready to fly in twenty minutes; I will take one, and I'll take the
first sober crew that shows up with me. The girl between his legs nipped
at him, and the sudden pain sent a bolt of dazzling blue energy
radiating from his penis through the rest of his body. "I want a full
