Sky Masters

by Dale Brown

  tiny missile raced ahead, obliterating the IR sensor in the sudden

  glare, but the missile tracked straight and true this time and they were

  rewarded by a huge ball of fire far ahead of them. "Bullet Six, splash

  two." "Good shooting, Razor, " Penrose heard Bowman reply in between

  deep grunts-Bowman was performing his anti-G force grunts called

  M-maneuvers. He was obviously right in the middle of a hard-turning

  battle, but the cocky sonofabitch still found time to chatter on the

  radios. "Bullet Seven, fox one. . . die, sucker, die!"

  "Bullet Seven, warning, second bandit four o'clock, high, eight miles,

  descending behind you... "Cowboy, dammit, get out of there!" Penrose

  shouted. "Cowboy, extend, extend!"

  "Bullet Seven, starboard turn to evade . . . Bullet Seven, extend...

  Bullet Seven heading zero-nine-zero, thirty degrees starboard to

  extend... Bullet Seven, check altitude... Bullet Seven, if you are in

  a spin, release your controls . . . Bullet Seven, if you are in a

  spin, release your controls and lower your landing gear. . . Bullet

  Seven, Bullet Seven, altitude warning . . . Bullet Seven only, Bullet

  Seven only, eject, eject, eject. . ." No use. Penrose never got

  another transmission from Bowman. "Basket, this is Six, vector to

  Bullet Seven's last position." Penrose could hear the panic, the

  gut-wrenching anxiety, in the controller's voice. "Er . . . Bullet

  Six, lone bandit at your nine o'clock, forty miles, he's northwest-bound

  at six hundred knots, altitude ten thousand and descending. Appears to

  be withdrawing. No other bandits detected. Say your bingo."

  "I said, I want a vector to Seven's last known position, dam"No ELT, no

  transmissions. . . Six, say your fuel." Penrose finally curbed his

  anger long enough to check his fuel-he was well past bingo, and with a

  damaged carrier and his tankers more than a hundred miles away, he was

  in emergency fuel conditions now. "Basket, Six requests you vector a

  KA-6 over here, because I'm not moving from this spot until I make sure

  there's no ELT or distress calls. You better call Sterett or Ffe or

  somebody over here to investigate, because I'm staying right here until

  we find Cowboy."

  "Bullet Six... Six, all group vessels involved at this time." The

  controller sounded as if he were trying to think of some detached,

  official-sounding terminology to tell Penrose that no one was likely to

  come and search for wreckage or survivors. Penrose suddenly remembered

  the Ranger and knew they weren t going to send any big ships anywhere

  near this area for a long time-the Chinese held it too tightly. "Shamu

  rendezvousing with Basket and Flashlight for recovery. Orders from home

  plate, return and prepare for divert recovery. Acknowledge." The battle

  was over. The Chinese lost four plus damaged a carrier, the Americans

  lost two. Penrose felt as if he had been beaten up by an entire street

  gang. Who won this one? Who the hell won this one? NATIONAL MILITARY

  COMMAND CENTER THE PENTAGON, WASHINGTON, D.C. %30 SEPTEMBER 1994, 1319

  HOURS LOCAL (1 OCTOBER, 0219 GUAM TIME) The National Military Command

  Center, located three stories beneath the inner ring of the Pentagon,

  was a large, sophisticated command post where members of the Joint

  Chiefs of Staff, their senior staff officers, and members of the

  National Command Authority and National Security Council could monitor

  crisis developments anywhere in the world, receive real-time satellite

  imagery, and speak directly with anyone from foreign leaders to theater

  commanders to individual crew members via secure, high-tech worldwide

  communications gear. The place was much like the Strategic Air

  Command's underground command center, with uliratight electronic and

  physical security, several huge wall-size, fullcolor monitors, banks of

  telephones, a secure code room, and a huge support staff-except this was

  where national military strategy and command decisions were made and

  disseminated, not received and executed. A gallery above the main floor

  allowed high-ranking visitors to view the proceedings; a few persons

  were up there now. Most of the J-Staff and several other members of the

  Joint Chiefs were already present in the NMCC when General Wilbur Curtis

  trotted in and took his place in the front row center seat. Beside him,

  sitting in the seat reserved for the highestranking civilian

  present-usually Frank Kellogg, the President's National Security

  Advisor, or even Thomas Preston, the Secretary of Defense himself-was

  Paul Cesare, the President's Chief of Staff. Curtis gave him a brief

  nod but ignored him as he clicked on the microphone at his seat. He

  didn't care for Cesare. Never had. Shortly after Curtis had been

  dismissed from the last Situation Room ineeting on this crisis, he'd

  phoned Cesare, trying to get in to see the President alone, to privately

  make the case for more fighters to accompany the carriers as well as

  deploying the Air Battle Force. He'd gotten nothing from Cesare but a

  chilly "The issue is closed." He was Machiavellian and ruthless. He'd

  play either side of the fence as long as it was the side the President

  was on, and mow down anyone who got in his way. Curtis more than

  disliked him, he couldn't stand him. "Curtis here. Situation report,

  please." Navy Captain Rebecca Rodgers' voice came over the NMCC's

  loudspeaker: "Good afternoon, sir, Captain Rodgers here. This briefing

  is classified Top Secret, no foreign nationals, sensitive intelligence

  sources and methods involved. The command center is secure, with the

  gallery sound-isolated. Briefing contents describe a priority-two

  incident." She paused for a moment in case Curtis wanted to configure

  the NMCC any differently. He did not, and she went on. Damn, Curtis

  thought, here it comes. "About fifteen minutes ago the aircraft carrier

  Ranger, her escorts, several Navy fighters, and an Air Force

  reconnaissance plane were attacked by Chinese land-based fighters and

  bombers south of the Philippines." There was considerable murmuring

  among the assembled. Several of the Joint Chiefs shifted in their

  seats, bracing themselves for more. Paul Cesare sat there shaking his

  head, not believing what he'd just heard. Well, Wilbur Curtis thought,

  the shit's hitting the fan a lot faster than anyone expected. And with

  the President's Chief of Staff sitting right here, the news was going to

  travel faster than Curtis could respond. He needed to have a list of

  options prepared for the National Command Authority literally before the

  President knew about the crisis. Without a plan of action, the entire

  JCS might seem like a bunch of bumbling idiots. If things got out of

  control now, Curtis would be lucky to remain JCS chairman for the rest

  of the day. "Wait one, Captain." Curtis turned to Cesare. "Mr.

  Cesare, what exactly are you doing here?" Curtis expected an argument

  out of the President's big aide-Cesare certainly had the security

  clearance and the need to know" for everything that went on in the

  NMCCbut to his surprise, Cesare was acting rather stunned, and not just

  from the
news he had just heard. ....... I was notified that a group of

  senators was going to meet with the Secretary of Defense at one o'clock,

  " he replied. "Something to do with the Philippine crises and the

  Chinese... our military options, something like that. These senators

  want to keep the President from committing any troops at all to

  Southeast Asia-they're afraid we might be starting another Vietnam

  conflict, or World War Three. They're pressing Secretary Preston-which

  means the President-into withdrawing all forces from the Philippines.

  Preston's trying to walk a balancing act, but he thought the meeting

  here was at least a little further away from... the public eye and the

  press. . . than on the Hill or at Defense." Curtis couldn't believe

  it. Once again the White House was pulling the Pentagon into a

  political mudfight. It was typical. God, how he hated politics. He

  turned to Cesare. "That's all well and fine, Mr. Cesare, but that

  doesn't explain what you're doing here." ....... well, gathering

  information. So that, um, the President can make an informed response

  when the senators press him." Admiral Cunningham, the Chief of Naval

  Operations, discreetly cleared his throat behind him. Curtis could feel

  the gaze of his JCS colleagues and staffers on him, silently urging him

  to deal with the emergency at hand-Cesare would have to wait. "I'll

  provide you with whatever you need later, Mr. Cesare, but for this

  situation, your place is up in the gallery."

  "I'd really prefer to sit here and-"

  "Mr. Cesare-"

  "General-" Curtis motioned to the NMCC's senior security policeman, Army

  Command Sergeant Major Jefferson, who stepped over immediately in front

  of Cesare. "Jake, please see that Mr. Cesare finds his way upstairs to

  the gallery with the other visitors, and double-check everyone's

  credentials up there." Cesare rose to his feet. "The President will

  expect a full report. "He'll get more than that, " Curtis said. He

  turned to his communications officer beside him. "Get the President on

  the line, priority two." Priority codes issued from the Pentagon were

  in numbers of non-nuclear threats and colors for nuclear ones; 'one" was

  the highest conventional code, associated with major military or

  terrorist actions against the continental United States, its bases or

  territories. "Two" was reserved for major attacks against American

  overseas bases, embassies, deployed vessels, or nonembassy citizens; and

  so on. Priority "red" was reserved for an all-out nuclear attack on the

  United States and was never used in simulations or exercises. Curtis

  then turned back to Cesare with a hint of a smile. This was Curtis'

  game now. Have a nice day, Mr. Cesare. Sergeant Jefferson will show

  you upstairs." Curtis motioned to the door with his head, and the guard

  motioned to the door and escorted Cesare out. The Chairman of the Joint

  Chiefs of Staff turned his attention back to the big screens and

  computer monitors before him, but the information Cesare had parted with

  lingered. The surveillance operation in the Philippines blows up right

  when there's a major congressional push to pull out. What the hell else

  could go wrong? When Cesare was safely gone, Curtis double-checked to be

  sure the intercom was shut off in the gallery-the ranking person in the

  command center could restrict all information dissemination, no matter

  what the other person's security clearanceand said, "Continue, Captain

  Rodgers. Casualty and damage report, start with Ranger."

  "Current casualty report: forty-seven dead, two hundred injured." A

  ripple of anger and dismay spread throughout the room. Curtis felt

  sick. "Ranger is still afloat, heading to the port city of Manado in

  Indonesia at minimum speed, escorted by destroyers Hewitt and Ffe and

  cruiser Bunker Hill. Wounded have been airlifted to Manado as well." A

  chart of the area was put up immediately on one of the large computer

  monitors when a foreign city or nation was mentioned, so Curtis and his

  staff could get a look at the area in question. Curtis found his mouth

  going dry, his pulse quickening. Forty-seven dead... "Aegis cruiser

  Bunker Hill damaged during action, " Rodgers continued, "but sustained

  no casualties and only minor injuries. It is fully combat-capable and

  is assisting Ranger."

  "Action approved, " Curtis said. Dammit, the Bunker Hill too. Two

  major warships damaged, with more casualties in one day than practically

  the entire 1991 Persian Gulf crisis. "Wait one. Wasn't there another

  ship with Ranger? Another cruiser?"

  "Yes, sir. USS Sterett is en route to the Celebes Sea to attempt to

  recover two F-14 fighters downed in action with Chinese fighter-bombers.

  The Tomcat crews are listed as missing in action." Two fighters? Jesus,

  four aviators. How many more were going to be lost? "Goddammit,

  Captain, give us the casualties all at once. Are there any more?"

  "No, sir. American casualties only on Ranger and two Tomcats." "Thank

  you, " Curtis said, taking a deep breath. "Hold on that last action by

  Sterett. Can Ranger provide any air support for Sterett?" "Not at this

  time, sir, " Rodgers replied. "Ranger unable to launch or recover

  aircraft. Admiral Walheim advised that he does not suggest sending any

  heavy Air Force aircraft within six hundred miles of Zamboanga on

  Mindanao due to heavy Chinese fighter and antiair naval activity. He is

  trying to organize a fighter patrol using carrier-based tankers that

  were stranded from Ranger..."

  "How can he rearm his fighters if they can't use Ranger?"

  "His fighters received permission to land in Indonesia along with the

  medical helicopters, " Rodgers replied. "Admiral Walheim has organized

  land-based rearming for the fighters by transferring stores from Ranger

  by helicopter to Ratulangi Airport near Manado, Indonesia, but he has

  not yet received permission from the Indonesian government to allow

  those helicopters to land or to conduct offensive operations from

  Indonesia. In addition, the Indonesian government has requested that

  the armed aircraft not depart Ratulangi until their status has been

  confirmed." Pretty fast thinking, Curtis thought-Walheim, another

  youngster commanding his first carrier battle group, was already

  devising ways to continue the fight even without a carrier deck. An X

  marked the spot on the chart where the fighters went down-about three to

  four hundred miles from Manado. Admiral Cunningham asked, "How many

  fighters are stranded off Ranger, Captain?"

  "Six F-14 Tomcats, two KA-6 tankers, one E-2C Hawkeye, " Rodgers

  replied. "Weapons include total of four Phoenix missiles, fifteen

  Sparrow missiles, ten Sidewinder missiles, and full ammunition loads."

  Cunningham nodded thoughtfully and said to Curtis, "Depending on fuel

  availability, Walheim can mount a credible air-defense operation from

  Ratulangi for a rescue operation if they could get full cooperation from

  the Indonesian government."

  "It's unlikely, considering all the shit that's going on, " Curtis said,

  "but we've got to find out." To Rodgers, Curtis said
, "I want to talk

  with the State Department ASAP. Danahall himself if he's available,

  otherwise his Pacific deputy."

  "Admiral Walheim suggested going ahead with search and rescue efforts

  anyway; a lone vessel broadcasting that it is part of a rescue effort

  might be allowed to proceed."

  "The STRATFOR can organize a cover counter-air operation from Andersen,

  " General Falmouth, the Air Force Chief of Staff, suggested. "PACAF has

  a number of fighters on Guam we can use . . "Action denied, " Curtis

  replied. "I want Sterett to stay out of the Celebes and outside six

  hundred miles from Zamboanga until I talk directly with State and

  Admiral Walheim. No vessels enter the Celebes without support. He

  thought of the four Tomcat naval aviators that were down, but he also

  knew the result of a damaged plane slamming into the sea from thousands

  of feet in the sky-unless someone saw parachutes, there were probably no

  survivors, and certainly there was no reason to risk hundreds of lives

  on Sterett to save four men. As much as Curtis hated to admit it, a

  rescue operation now was out of the question. "Continue. Status of the

  Air Force aircraft?"

  "Minor injuries sustained during escape maneuvers when the crew thought

  they were under attack, " Rodgers said. "The RC- 135 refueled inflight

  and safely recovered at Andersen Air Force Base on Guam. The E-3C AWACS

  plane and the KC-10 are still on station in the southern Philippine Sea

  north of Manado between the Philippines and Indonesia; the AWACS plane

  is keeping an eye on Chinese fighter activity and attempting to locate

  the two downed aircraft. They have four of the six Tomcat fighters with

  them for air cover; the other two Tomcats landed in Indonesia with the

  medevac helicopters. They estimate they can stay on station until

  daybreak, then they must withdraw for aircraft servicing." Curtis

  checked the row of world clocks below the NMCC's "big board"It was

  almost two-thirty in the morning Guam time. "I want the AWACS plane

  back on Guam by sunrise, " Curtis said. "Have them stay long enough to