Battle Born

by Dale Brown

  Acceleration was rapid but not very dramatic in military power-but when those four huge afterburners lit and power was moved to max AB, the thrust and acceleration snapped Patrick's eyes open. The ejection seat felt as though it came up and smacked him in the back of the head. He had felt afterburner kicks plenty of times, but usually it was just that-a kick and nothing more. In the Bone, a constant, steady pressure that forced him deep into his seat followed that nice hard kick. It was like flying in a rocket ship headed for earth orbit. Patrick hadn't felt G-forces like that in a long time. The pressure and acceleration made his head spin-it seemed as if the deck was inclined at least forty-five degrees.

  Seaver's little "departure show" routine didn't help Patrick's stomach. Rinc lifted only about one hundred feet off the runway, pushed the nose over to hold that altitude, then raised the gear and flaps and swept the wings back to twenty-four degrees. He accelerated to well over four hundred knots-at max afterburner, it only took a few seconds-then, as he blasted between the twin towers of the Nugget Casino and the Hilton Hotel Casino, he wagged the wings twice before lifting the Bone on its fiery tail. Their 400,000-pound bird suddenly did become a rocket ship, headed skyward at almost ten thousand feet per minute. Rinc didn't revert to a more conventional climb-out until passing twelve thousand feet, when he pulled back to military power at 350 knots. They leveled off at twenty-one thousand feet in no time.

  John Long reported "tied on radar" and fed continuous position information on the flight leader, and the formation quickly joined up. After closing to tight wingtip formation to check one another out, Rinc extended to loose route formation so he could perform their checklists without having to concentrate too much on formation flying.

  "How you doing over there, General?" Rinc asked.

  "Fine," Patrick replied.

  "Heard some heavy breathing on interphone. Thought you might lose some of your box lunch." "Not a chance," Patrick responded. "I'll be with you on the TERFLW checklist in a minute. Crew, I'll be on secure SATCOM. I'd appreciate it if no one monitors that channel until I let you know. Copy?"

  "Sure," Rinc replied. "Monitor GUARD and interphone, report back up. I'm starting the TERFLW checklist."

  "O."

  "D."

  "Thanks," Patrick said. "Copilot is clearing off to

  SECURE."

  Patrick set the referee's SATCOM channel into the satellite communications thumbwheels, clicked his communications wafer switch to SECURE, then keyed the mike button: "Firebird, Firebird, Aces Two-One."

  "Two-One, this is Firebird." Patrick instantly recognized Luger's voice on the scrambled satellite communications channel. "Authenticate Foxtrot-Uniform."

  There was a moment's pause while Patrick looked up the response in his AKAC-1553 code book for the familiar "F-U" challenge: "Two-One has 'Tango4 Is this Amarillo?"

  "Sure is." Dave Luger was from Amarillo, Texas, and Patrick, from California, usually never let him live it down. Only months of concentrated Russian brainwashing and years of working as a Soviet bomber design engineer in Lithuania, where he was known to the Central Intelligence Agency as an American defector code-named "Redtail Hawk," had made Luger lose his thick Texas drawl.

  "Then authenticate Alpha-Hotel, amigo," Patrick said. The "A-H" was another endearing authentication used by parties known to each other.

  "Firebird authenticates 'India.' "

  "Loud and clear," Patrick said. Both parties were required to double-check authentication, even though they were on a discrete, secure satellite channel available only to them. "How's it going, partner?"

  "All bombers are away, the last of the squadron will be loaded up in a few hours, and we'll be right behind them," Dave said. "Be advised, bud: I was with the SOF during the launch, and I got a good look at your nosewheel. I think you got more than two cords cut--looked to me more like five or six. If you land with weapons onboard, be careful. I understand these guys wanted to max out PLS points, which they did, but they might have violated peacetime safety-of-flight rules by taking a broke bird into the air. I think they should have at least gotten a maintenance supervisor out there to look. Just so you know."

  "Copy that, Amarillo." Patrick shook his head, hoping Seaver was eavesdropping.

  "How did your takeoff feel, sir? Didn't fill up a helmet bag, did you?"

  "Felt just great," Patrick said. "I forgot what a zoomer this baby is. I think I left part of my gut back on the runway. If I lose it, it'll probably be low-level."

  "You mess up, you clean up, sir," Luger reminded him. "That was quite the show your AC put on. I'll bet the folks in those casinos got a great shot. You could see the windows rattling from the ground. Hey, listen, Muck. I got a call from the home drome." The home drome in his case was Dreamland. "We're getting ready to monitor the Chinese and North Koreans during the first day of Team Spirit bombing exercises in South Korea."

  "Everything okay so far?"

  "Normal activity from the DPRK and China-not so normal for the ROK," Dave said. "How so?"

  "I dunno. Just-busy. Everyone is supercharged. It sounds like it's the big finale day of the exercise rather than the first supercautious ramp-up-slowly day."

  "Lots of high-powered visibility in this one," Patrick pointed out. "Lots of VIPs, including Japan. Our cutie Vice Prez is out there too." He hesitated for a moment, thinking hard. Something inside his head was saying the news from Luger had to be investigated. He didn't know why, but it had to be checked out. No matter what other disasters were happening, he never went wrong when he listened to that tiny, almost drowned out little voice in his head. Patrick keyed the mike: "What do we got overhead?"

  "I'll have to double-check," Luger said. "Overhead" meant satellites. Through their contractors, Patrick had access to several kinds of sophisticated photo, communications, radar, and electromagnetic reconnaissance satellites, all of which could be steered over the Korean peninsula in a matter of hours if needed. Since Dreamland was not an active combat base-at least, not one that most of the rest of the government knew-Patrick and his staff did not get normal access to CIA and Defense Department satellite imagery, so they relied on their own. "You want to take an unofficial peek, Muck?" "Let's get a Carter and a Ford over the peninsula and start matching up origins and destinations of all that comm traffic," Patrick said. The reconnaissance satellites designed, built, and launched by Sky Masters Inc., one of the Air Force's smallest but more important contractors, were all named for American Presidents. The Carter series were communications eavesdropping satellites capable of detecting, tracing, and analyzing radio, TV, cellular, microwave, Internet, and satellite communications. The Ford series of satellites were millimeter-wave radar reconnaissance satellites, capable of detecting, pinpointing, and identifying objects as small as a car almost anywhere on earth-even underground, hidden in buildings, or under camouflage or underwater. All were inserted into low earth orbit so they needed very little power to send their signals back to earth. Launched by boosters carried on commercial airliners, a constellation of these small satellites, called NIRT Sats ("Need it right this second" satellites) could be set up in a matter of hours.

  "You got it, Muck," Luger said. "I think we have a few assets in place right now we can tap into."

  "Good. I've got checklists to run, Amarillo. Talk at you soon."

  "Go kick some butt, D," Luger said. "I'll meet you at Tonopah. Firebird clear."

  Patrick flipped back to interphone. "Crew, D's back up interphone. Clear to switch SATCOM to primary monitor channels."

  "We need to get going on these checklists, sir," Seaver said. "We're waiting on you."

  Yep, he was behind already. Things happened fast in the B-1B. "Sorry about that, gang. Got busy on SATCOM. I'm ready."

  "Let's not be late, co," Rinc said, taking a swig of orange juice and giving his guest copilot a mock disapproving scowl, then a friendly, easy smile. He was taking great delight in needling the one-star general sitting in his cockpit. "Let's not be late."


  KOREAN PEOPLE'S ARMY MILITARY COMMAND

  AND COORDINATION FACILITY,

  SUNAN, DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE'S

  REPUBLIC OF KOREA

  THAT SAME TIME

  You are late." The South Korean commandos relaxed and lowered the muzzles of their MP5Ks. The two groups approached each other. The South Korean team leader saluted the ranking officer. "Lieutenant An Sun-hun, team leader."

  The North Korean returned the salute. "Major Hong Song-ku, chief of security. Welcome to the People's Army command center. Follow me." Lieutenant An dispatched one squad to set explosives at several other key sites on base. What he didn't tell his North Korean contact was that the commandos would also place electronic target markers on the CCF itself. In case their plan did not work, the CCF was going to be demolished with concentrated aerial and rocket bombardment until it was nothing more than a hole in the earth.

  The upper two levels of the Command and Coordination Facility, which were mostly administrative offices, were virtually deserted. The ground-floor security desk was manned, with the five-ton vault-like upper-access door secure, but the guards on duty did not register the least bit of surprise when the twelve South Korean commandos were escorted through.

  The commandos quickly descended the staircase to the first subfloor level. This level housed the facility's security forces-two full infantry companies, over two hundred specially trained and heavily armed soldiers. A security station at the bottom of the stairs was deserted too. On the other side of the security officer's desk was another vault door, which led to the command center. On either side, angled away so there would be no cross fire from security troops, were the two access hallways leading to the barracks of the two infantry companies. The North Korean security commander led the South Koreans to his office along one of the corridors.

  "We were afraid you would not come," Major Hong said. "You were not spotted by any of our patrols until you entered the outer perimeter." He smiled wryly. "I suppose that does not look very good for our security here-we knew you were coming, and still we could not detect your presence. My congratulations."

  Lieutenant An bowed in thanks. "We must contact our headquarters as soon as we have secured this facility, or else it will be attacked."

  "What must I do?" Hong asked.

  "We must take the command center itself immediately," An replied. "What is the situation, sir?"

  "Full staffing in the command center, communications, and intelligence cells," Hong replied. "Thirty-seven officers and fifty-three noncommissioned officers, all loyalists." Lieutenant An's face fell-that was a very large complement of Communists, and even if they weren't all battle-hardened soldiers, it was going to be tough to take them all. "The vice-marshal in charge of the Artillery Command and the commander of the Air Forces are here as well, along with their personal security teams. They are here to monitor your Team Spirit bombing exercises."

  Hong added, "They ordered both security companies activated to double the guards, so I have my full force of two hundred and eleven men on duty. We have fifty men in the command center, ten in the communications and intelligence centers, and the rest spread out inside and around the building. They are more than enough to subdue all the loyalists. All are under my sole command."

  Hong noticed An's second-in-command shift his feet uneasily. "Do not worry, Sergeant," Hong said with a reassuring smile. "Not all of my men are conscripts, but most are, and the rest are not full party members-only officers and senior noncommissioned officers are accorded full party status." "Are you a party member, sir?" An asked.

  "My parents were both party members, and so I was enrolled in the Young Patriots Corps and then awarded a commission," Hong replied. "But my mother was killed trying to cross the frontier. She was accused of illegal travel and treason. She committed suicide in prison. My father and I were stripped of our party affiliations, and I was reduced in rank and given a noncombat post. I have been an outcast ever since. My father died of pneumonia eight months ago because he was not given any medical treatment. He had not had one regular meal or any heat for his apartment in over a year.

  "Not one of us nonparty members, myself included, have been paid in more than six months, nor do we expect to be paid until perhaps next spring, if ever. Our families are starving. Our children have no clothes, no education, nothing. Only full party members are allowed to buy food at the base commissary-the rest must beg, steal, scavenge, or starve. Yet our government spends billions of won on weapons to destroy the very people whose unity we hope will bring us salvation."

  He looked at the South Korean commandos and added somberly, "The time for mistrust is over. We are on our knees. We must stop the Communist war machine from destroying us. We will start now. Every true Korean patriot is behind us." He pointed to a stack of boxes in a corner of his office. "There are ponchos you can wear to cover your uniforms."

  "Not necessary, sir," Lieutenant An said. With that, his commandos withdrew their own ponchos-which looked identical to North Korean-issued ones.

  "Very well," Hong said, smiling approvingly as he donned his own poncho. "Let us then march into history-or oblivion-together. I have everything ready. Follow my lead."

  "Tell me what your plan is," An said.

  "It would be better if I did not," Hong said. "Your surprise will help the ruse. Trust me. Do you have ear and eye protection?" An nodded, then looped his flashbang goggles around the back of his neck and hid them under his poncho. Hong did the same to his pair. "Good. Follow me." With that, he shouted an order to his men in the hallway, issued an order on a handheld radio, then marched purposefully out into the corridor. Although An still felt that old chill of mistrust and fear, he could do nothing else but follow along. He and his men, and the nation behind them, were already too far down the path to look backward.

  Hong stepped in front of the large steel door leading to the command center and pushed a CALL button. "Identify yourself" came the reply on the speaker.

  "Major Hong."

  There was a confused moment's silence. The person at the other end was the assistant to the senior controller, in charge of access to the command center. "State your business please, comrade Major."

  "Status inspection. Several security systems are not in order. I want to inspect them myself and then report to the senior controller personally. I am also bringing down six cases of food, electronic parts, water, and publications. You should have received the invoices for them already. Lieutenant Wu is with me."

  "Stand by, please." A moment later, after receiving permission from the senior controller, the heavy steel door motored open. By design, the elevator was big enough for only three or four persons, and only two persons after they loaded the six crates of supplies onboard. Lieutenant An hid his MP5K and backpack under his poncho and squeezed inside the tiny elevator with Major

  Hong. The elevator moved at only two meters per minute on its way down the ten meters to the command center. It had been designed that way to prevent a massive, rapid enemy assault.

  Five minutes later the elevator doors slid open, and Lieutenant An found himself staring at a room he never truly believed he would ever be allowed to see-the Korean People's Army Military Command and Coordination Facility. The entire North Korean military machine was directed from this very chamber. It was exciting to be here-and also a bit of a letdown. It was much darker, gloomier, and smellier than Major Hong's intelligence reports had said.

  "Lieutenant," Major Hong said in a sharp, officious voice just as the doors slid fully open, "take the top two boxes to the galley immediately."

  "Yes, sir," An replied. He hoped this was some sort of ploy or diversion, because he had no idea where the galley was. An picked up the top two boxes . . .

  . . , and, just as he took a step forward, he felt a tear at the bottom of the second box, and the bottom popped open, spilling bags of rice, cans of cooking oil, dried meat, tea, and other foods onto the floor of the elevator. The two-gallon cans of oil and the bags of r
ice split open, scattering rice everywhere, and the floor was slippery from the oil oozing from the cans. "Lieutenant, what in blazes are you doing?" Hong shouted. The North Korean major whirled around and struck An sharply across the face with his open hand. "You idiot! Can you not follow one simple order without creating a disaster?"

  "What is going on over there, Major?" a voice from the gloom asked.

  Hong turned and bowed into the darkness. "My apologies, comrade Vice-Marshal Kim," he replied. "My clumsy assistant has spilled some supplies in the elevator. It will take only a moment to clean it up."

  "If any of those electronic components are damaged, Major," another voice said, "I will hold you personally responsible."

  "They do not appear to be damaged, comrade General Cho," Hong replied.

  "Relax, General," Kim said. "We are all under enormous stress. Get it cleaned up immediately, Major. We cannot afford to have our only service access elevator down too long. And it is not the sign of a good commander to physically strike a subordinate in public, no matter how much stress one is under. Remember that next time."

  "Yes, sir, comrade Vice-Marshal," Hong said. "Lieutenant, get out of the way."

  Lieutenant An swallowed hard as he maneuvered clear of the elevator, ready to help Hong in any way he might indicate. He realized Hong had been talking to Vice-Marshal Kim Ung-tae, the commander of the Artillery Command, himself. Vice-Marshal Kim was in charge of all of North Korea's rockets, ballistic missiles, air defense missiles and artillery, and coastal defense missiles and artillery. He was also responsible for all of North Korea's nuclear, chemical, and biological warheads that could be delivered by rockets or artillery. He was the third most powerful man in the North Korean armed forces and reported directly to Marshal Chang Song-u, the commander in chief of the Korean People's Army, and to Supreme Commander and Beloved Leader President Kim Jong-il.

  The other man was probably Lieutenant General Cho Myong-nok, the chief of staff of the Korean People's Army's Air Forces. General Cho was responsible for approximately one-fifth of North Korea's weapons of mass destruction-the warheads carried on his bombers and strike fighters. Together, these men commanded four-fifths of North Korea's deadliest weapons. They held one of the two keys necessary to unleash those forces; the Beloved Leader, Kim Jong-il, held the other key.