by Dale Brown
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
