by Dale Brown
The South Koreans obviously knew this too, because the siding had been destroyed. Demolition charges had been set under the tracks leading into it, and more charges had been set on one of the concrete walls, toppling it onto the tracks. The main rails were still open — after all, Kong thought, the capitalists still needed them to carry out their invasion — but the presurveyed launch point was useless. He had found this to be so throughout his dangerous trek north toward the safety of China — this was why his first launch had been from an unsurveyed point, guaranteeing a much-degraded launch circular error — but finding this one was doubly disappointing.
But the second missile was on the erector-launcher, fully functional and ready to go. This one had a 350-kiloton nuclear warhead, targeted for Osan. Fused for a groundburst, it would easily dig out the still-functioning Osan Master Control and Reporting Center, the heart of South Korea’s military. He had a third missile as well, fully functional and ready to load and fire. His plan was to try and deliver his third missile intact to Kanggye, hopefully under a Chinese military umbrella, and use it as the basis for reconstituting the Army of Free Korea in Chagang Do province and fighting the invaders from the South.
Kong still refused to call the abomination created by the capitalists the United Republic of Korea. As far as he was concerned, it was still South Korea. And it was not a popular people’s revolution that had brought down the Communist government in Pyongyang. The capitalists had perpetrated some kind of elaborate mind control process that made most of the people, including the military, go crazy and turn against their leaders. How else could anyone explain the pockets of resistance still in the North? How else could anyone explain the government-in-exile in Beijing? Thank the stars the Glorious Leader, Kim Jong-il, and most of the Politburo had managed to get out and organize the resistance.
Kong made his way back through the driving rain to the Nodong missile unit and joined his partner, Lieutenant Kim Yong-ku. Kim had commanded another missile unit, but all of his men had deserted shortly after firing their last missile, so Kim joined up with Kong — which was fortunate, because Kong’s crew had also deserted soon after firing the first missile. Being on the run for so long was more than they could take, and it grew harder and harder to forage for food or find sympathetic civilians who might help them. The brainwashing of North Korea, Kong thought, was almost complete. Put a little food in their bellies and blast them with propaganda and some people will believe almost anything.
Most of the Nodong-1 missile unit was under a maintenance enclosure, but they had still taken the time to put together some simple camouflage. The loaded erector-launcher was covered by corrugated tin and timber as if part of the shelter had collapsed on it, and they piled debris around the engine to make it appear immobilized. Kong met up with Kim in the command car. With the engine shut down to conserve fuel and avoid detection, the command car, with its own self-contained jet power unit, was the most comfortable place on the whole unit. If faced with capture, Kim could also quickly and easily disable the missile from there.
“Any luck, sir?” Kim asked after double-checking Kong’s identity with their own invented tap-code and letting his commander into the cab.
“Yes — but all of it bad,” Kong admitted with a wry smile. “The launch point has been destroyed. Completely unusable.” He wiped rain from his poncho. “Any contact from our other units?”
“Unit Twenty reports ready — that was the only contact, sir. There were propaganda broadcasts on the strategic message net, urging us to surrender. They addressed us by name.”
“By name?”
“By name, rank, and unit number,” Kim said. “They even knew that you had promoted me to lieutenant.”
“Bastards!” Kong shouted. “Cowardly spineless traitors!” It was obvious that some of those who had deserted them had reported extensively to the capitalist intelligence officers. This was the worst form of human refuse — not just a coward and a traitor, but an informant too. “Did they say anything indicating they know where we are or where we’re heading?”
“No, sir,” Kim replied. “It appears your plan not to reveal any other unit’s firing positions has paid off well.” He looked proud of Kong, but very worried. “What do you want to do now, sir?” he asked.
“We are going to launch as scheduled, Lieutenant,” Kong said resolutely. “My first impulse is to remain here, mensurate coordinates using the GPS, and launch. We have a good hiding place here, and the missile is ready. But this may be our last opportunity to strike hard at the capitalists. Our assigned target is an underground command complex, and we need a direct hit to disable it — missing by even a kilometer may be unacceptable.” Kong started doing ballistic calculations in his head: “Our missile flight distance is over seven hundred kilometers. This means if our gyro heading is off just one degree, every meter our launch coordinates are off means our missile will miss by seventy meters, even if the missile gyros run perfectly. That’s too many variables. It is unacceptable inaccuracy.
“Our most accurate shot will be if we march to the spot right beside the launch point. We can hand-measure the distance to update the launch coordinates, and we can use the same heading for gyro alignment and it will be almost perfect.” He paused for a moment, then added, “We are three hours to the scheduled coordinated launch time. I think we can start up the engine, march to the siding, elevate, align, and launch our missile right on time.
“If we stay here, it is doubtful we can cross-check the GPS geographical coordinates with any landmarks in time. That means we launch on handheld GPS coordinates alone, and those could be off by five hundred meters. We’d be safer here and we could do a successful launch, but its accuracy would be very poor. I think we should take the risk and march to the track adjacent to the presurveyed launch point. What do you think, Lieutenant?”
“I agree completely, sir,” Kim said. He motioned to a map on the console. “Unfortunately, this maintenance shed did not have surveyed coordinates listed. I have a few possible bearing swings we could take on terrain features to refine our GPS coordinates, but in this weather it would be impossible to see them. We should march to the launch point as you suggest, sir.”
“Very good,” Kong said. “Help me remove our camouflage, and we’ll be off.”
It took only thirty minutes to remove the debris from around the train, start up the diesel engine, and get under way. It took less than an hour to reach the section of track near the launch point. Kong, acting as train engineer, slowed down so he could double-check that the switch signal was in the proper position, indicating that he would stay on the main track and not switch to the damaged siding, and so he could stop as soon as he was aligned with the siding.
But something happened. As he reached the switch, the train veered right onto the siding. Kong throttled back and hit the brakes, but he could not stop in time — even traveling less than ten kilometers per hour, such a large train needed a lot of time to stop. The engine plowed into a pile of concrete and debris lying on the tracks, and he heard a loud crunching sound from under the wheels that ran along the entire length of the engine until the train finally came to a halt. He shifted into reverse and tried to move — nothing. He went as high as 80 percent power, loud enough to be heard all the way to Holch’on — still nothing. They were stuck fast.
Damn, damn, damn! He cursed at himself as he leaped from the engine to inspect the damage. He knew he should have visually inspected the switch. It had obviously been damaged, or else deliberately sabotaged to turn any unsuspecting train into the defective siding. Now he was trapped.
“I will curse my own incompetence from now and for eternity!” he shouted as he joined Kim beside the engine. “How does it look? Do you think we can move?”
“I think we can move if we clear some of the concrete from around the axles,” Kim said. “It might take full throttle, but I think it can be done.”
Kim got up to retrieve some tools from the engineer’s locker in the engine,
but Kong stopped him. “We don’t have time,” he said. “We’re less than two hundred meters from the presurveyed launch point. All we need is a single transit shot to update the launch point coordinates, and then we need to start the heading alignment. We can use the gyro platform heading calibrator at the presurveyed point to cross-check the heading alignment. If we hurry, we can make the launch time.”
OVER THE SEA OF JAPAN, OFF THE EAST COAST
OF THE KOREAN PENINSULA
THAT SAME TIME
Feet dry,” Patrick McLanahan announced. “We actually made it.”
“Amen,” Nancy Cheshire, the aircraft commander aboard the EB-1C Megafortress, said, echoing Patrick’s relief. They had just completed a nonstop eleven-hour flight from Dreamland to Korea, without seeing any land whatsoever since leaving the United States coastline near Big Sur.
“I hear ya, guys,” Dave Luger added. “Good job. Now the fun starts.”
Dave Luger was not onboard the modified B-1 bomber — he was more than a thousand miles away in the Megafortress’s “virtual cockpit” on Naval Air Station Adak in the Aleutian Islands. The HAWC teams had quickly deployed the ground support equipment to Adak while the EB-1 was made ready for its first mission.
The virtual cockpit, or VC, provided Patrick and Nancy with an extra set of eyes on their instruments and on the tactical situation around them. It was like a miniature mock-up of the EB-1 Megafortress cockpit, using computer monitors in place of aircraft gauges and instruments. Several other screens on the side of the module allowed extra technicians to monitor aircraft systems, and to monitor other sensors and displays and pass along their observations to the crew in real-time. The largest screen in the VC, atop the remote cockpit displays, was the “God’s-eye” view, or what the crews called the “big picture,” which combined all of the external and mission-specific sensors available into one big chartlike display. The God’s-eye view combined civilian and military radar information, satellite imagery, shipborne and aircraft radar data, and even information broadcast from ground forces all on one map.
The most important system adding its information to the God’s-eye view was a string of satellites in low earth orbit called NIRTSats, or “Need it right this second” satellites. Four small dishwasher-sized satellites had been released just hours earlier aboard a booster rocket launched from a converted DC-10 airliner and placed into a one-hundred-mile circular orbit, positioned so that each satellite was over the Korean peninsula every twenty minutes. The satellites had been launched and positioned specifically for Patrick’s EB-1C Megafortress mission. They used thrusters to precisely position themselves in space but did not have enough fuel or power to keep themselves in orbit very long or allow themselves to be repositioned into another orbit. Within three or four weeks, their battery power would run out and they would burn up in earth’s atmosphere.
During its pass, each satellite would take a stream of radar images of broad areas of Korea and China and transmit the images to earth. Within seconds, the images would be processed and sent to the virtual cockpit at Adak and to the crew on the Megafortress. The radar images could see objects as small as an automobile and were precise enough to measure the dimensions of a target, compare it to a vehicle database, and actually try to guess at what the object or vehicle might be. Over time, the images would show trails of moving vehicles, vehicle concentrations, and even vehicles that had traveled off known highways or were trying to hide to escape detection.
Coverage was not 100 percent — each satellite was only in the sky over the Korean peninsula for about twelve out of every ninety minutes. But since most ground vehicles didn’t move very fast anyway, it was very good information. The data from the satellites combined with the Megafortress’s laser radar system allowed the crews both on the ground and in the air to see all ground activity for most of the northern Korean peninsula and the border region of China, and all air activity within fifty miles. It was truly a God’s-eye view.
Patrick activated the laser radar system and got his first look at the Korean peninsula from the Megafor-tress — a five-second LADAR shot was all that was necessary to get a detailed view of everything around them for fifty miles. The LADAR could detect small vehicles on the ground and aircraft at any altitude, map terrain, scan for weather, and identify ships at sea; it could even detect satellites flying overhead in low earth orbit. Patrick could manipulate the LADAR image to zoom in on the smallest return or out to take a look at the entire tactical situation over a span of 100,000 cubic miles around the aircraft.
The EB-1C Megafortress was loaded primarily for ballistic missile and launcher hunting, but it also carried a big self-defense weapons package. In its forward bomb bay was a rotary launcher with a total of sixteen AIM-120 radar-guided AMRAAMs (advanced medium-range air-to-air missiles). The AMRAAM was a “launch and leave” antiaircraft missile: each missile was programmed right before launch with the target’s position, heading, and speed, which meant that the launch aircraft did not have to stay locked onto the target. But since the Megafortress’s laser radar could stay locked onto a target even while maneuvering, the AMRAAM received updates on the target’s flight path until it got close enough to use its own onboard radar to home in on the target and complete the intercept. The Megafortress’s laser radar system could simultaneously track three dozen air targets in any direction and could attack six of them at one time.
The center bomb bay contained a rotary launcher with eight Lancelot antiballistic missile missiles, two of which were armed with plasma-yield warheads. The aft bomb bay had another rotary launcher with eight Wolverine cruise missiles, all with conventional warheads.
The EB-1’s “supercockpit” display, the large computer screen on the right side of the cockpit, was showing the God’s-eye view of the area within Lancelot missile range of the bomber. The NIRTSat radar data showed positions of ground vehicles, making identification guesstimates when the radar got a clear measurement of the target. The laser radar data displayed data on aircraft and ground and sea targets, and the bomber’s electronic warfare suite displayed early-warning radars throughout Korea. As the bomber flew farther inland, it came closer to Seoul, Ch’unch’on, and Kaesong radar coverage, which was displayed as green circles. The size of the circle was a measurement of the strength of the radar signal and the estimated detection threshold of the bomber itself. If the bomber’s radar cross section was larger because bomb doors were open or communications antennas were extended, the radar circles became larger; if the Megafortress was in full “stealth” configuration, head-on to the radar and running completely “stealthy,” the circle would become smaller, indicating it was safe to fly closer to the radar if necessary.
“Muck, looks like we picked up a newcomer ground target,” Dave Luger radioed. With a flashing pointer, he indicated the new NIRTSat radar return on Patrick’s supercockpit display. “Appeared on the last satellite pass. Slow-moving, big, long. Take a look.”
“Got it,” Patrick said. He zoomed his display in closer, then overlaid topographic and highway charts over the sensor display. “Looks like the newcomer is right on a railroad track. We might have ourselves a missile train.” He zoomed in on the digital display again. As he did, the targeting computer rendered its best guess on what the radar return was. “Computer says it’s a train, all right. Chinese gauge, seven cars. Could be a Nodong missile unit.” Patrick entered commands into his laser radar system and bombing computers, preloading a Wolverine missile with the train’s coordinates. “Looks like it’s parked close to a North Korean missile launch point,” he said.
“I’m relaying the find back home,” Dave said, entering the information into a secure datalink back to Dreamland. “I think Korea’s been looking for this baby.”
“Dave, see if the NIRTSats came up with any other trains on previous passes,” Patrick ordered.
“Already done,” Dave said. “We’ve actually got seven other likelies.” A few moments later several radar returns flashed on Patric
k’s supercockpit display. “You’re within LADAR range of two of them.”
Patrick directed a slight turn north toward the two closest radar returns, then activated the laser radar again. Taking LADAR shots from several different directions was the way to get ultradetailed three-dimensional images. These shots were combined with earlier shots and with the NIRTSat radar images to further enhance the target. “No go on target one,” Patrick said. “The computer says it’s a bus or truck — too small for a seven-car Nodong unit. But target number two could be another player. It’s a seven-car train, Chinese gauge, moved into its current position just an hour ago.”
“Two Nodongs at presurveyed launch points?” Nancy Cheshire asked. “Sounds like a lot more than coincidence to me.”
“Same here,” Dave said as he relayed the new information back to Dreamland. “This could be the prelude to another rebel missile launch.”
“Hey, we’ve got an air target behind us!” Patrick said. He had just completed another LADAR sweep all around the Megafortress. It was flying at about thirty thousand feet over the Sea of Japan, heading toward them from the southeast at over five hundred knots. “No ID yet, but it’s gotta be a fighter.”
