Battle Born pm-8

by Dale Brown

  The first operational launch of the Navy’s ABM-54 antiballistic missile missile was a success — two Nodong-1 missiles targeted for Beijing were intercepted and destroyed.

  * * *

  As soon as the last Lancelot missile blasted clear, Rinc lowered the Megafortress’s nose and turned toward the incoming Chinese MiG-31 Foxhounds.

  “Arm up the Scorpions, Long Dong,” he shouted. “We’ve got to get to them before they attack!”

  But before the two Megafortress bombers could even begin to make defensive maneuvers, the MiGs had opened fire with long-range R-33 radar-guided missiles. “Missile launch! Amos missiles in the air! They fired from about forty miles away… Two more missiles in the air! They targeted both you guys. Fortress Three, break right!”

  “Rebecca!” Rinc shouted on interplane.

  “Get the hell out of here, Rodeo!” Rebecca shouted. “I’m maneuvering as best I can! Get going!” Rinc had no choice but to execute a steep turning dive for the ground.

  The one not-so-cool thing about the Megafortress’s laser radar system was that it showed everything in stark, cold detail — including their time to die. The LADAR tracked the big R-33 Amos missiles with ease, even projected their flight path and time to intercept — which, at their speed, was in about seventy seconds. No matter how tight they turned, how fast they flew, or how low they went, the R-33 stayed right with them — their projected flight path line always intersected the middle of the screen.

  “Kill those sons of bitches, Long Dong!” Rinc shouted. Long quickly armed up the AIM-120 Scorpion AMRAAM missiles, and as soon as the R-33 missiles got within twenty miles, he fired two against each missile, then two at each MiG-31 when they got within range seconds later…

  … but even though the R-33 missiles were big targets, they maneuvered quickly and were too fast for the AIMs, which were designed for aircraft less than half their speed. All of the Scorpions fired against the R-33s missed. Their last chance was the Scorpion missiles fired against the Foxhounds themselves — if they hit, or if the MiG-31s were forced to turn away and break radar lock with the bombers, the R-33 missiles would simply fly their last assigned heading and turn on their onboard radars. If they saw a target, they would kill it — if not, they would self-destruct. It was their only…

  Suddenly, a tremendous globe of brilliant silvery light appeared in the sky above Rinc and John, then disappeared — it went away so fast that they thought they imagined it. Rinc made another hard jink to the left and pumped out more active decoys to try to lure the R-33 missiles away — and this time it worked. The R-33s continued on their last course and exploded harmlessly several miles away.

  “Rebecca! Are you all right?” Rinc shouted.

  “We’re okay!” Rebecca replied. “The R-33s missed! They stopped guiding on us! What happened?”

  “Hey, you know, these Lancelot missiles make fine air-to-air missiles too,” Dave Luger radioed from Fortress Two. “And that last one just happened to have a plasma-yield warhead on it. Wonder where you go when you get hit by a plasma-yield explosion?”

  “To plasma hell, I hope,” Rinc said. “Hey, Fortress Zero, can we escort Fortress One out of here now? We’ll all be running on fumes pretty soon.”

  “Not quite yet,” General Terrill Samson’s voice broke in. “This is Genesis. Check your targeting displays. I’ve got one more target for you guys to attack… and may God have mercy on my soul for doing this.”

  * * *

  “None… of… them?” Minister of National Defense Kim gasped. “None of them hit their targets?”

  “None of them even began reentry toward their targets,” Colonel Sung, the senior controller in the Master Control and Reporting Center at Osan, said. “They all either reported malfunctions… or the telemetry simply ceased.”

  “How is this possible?” Kim shouted. “How can this happen?” He was almost crazed with blinding anger — but he forced himself to be calm. “I want a second salvo readied immediately!” he shouted. “This time I want it doubled! I want every target on the original list targeted with two warheads! No… no, better make it three.”

  “Three? Three nuclear warheads on every target?”

  “If they are malfunctioning or sabotaged, we need at least three to ensure the targets are destroyed once and for all!” he cried out. “Now get to work! Put three… no, four, four missiles on every target! Do it! Now!”

  “Sir!” a technician shouted. “Enemy aircraft inbound! Patriot and Hawk batteries are responding!”

  Kim dashed over to a radar screen, one of the old-fashioned twenty-four-inch cathode-ray tube displays — the old vacuum-tube radar displays were less vulnerable to EMP effects, so some were still in use in the MCRC. Several blips appeared on the screen with data blocks beside them indicating speed and altitude. “Fast-moving target inbound from the southwest at very low altitude, range seventy miles. They are not maneuvering… they are coming straight in.”

  “Then it will be that much easier to destroy them,” Kim said. “Commit every available unit on—”

  “Sir! More targets inbound from the southeast! Very low altitude, six hundred knots, range sixty miles.”

  “It’s a massive Chinese attack,” Kim shouted. “Get those ballistic missiles launched now, General! Get them—”

  “Sir! More inbound targets, slow-moving, low altitude… I have another target, high altitude, sixty miles to the east, four hundred knots.”

  “A command or surveillance aircraft,” General An said. “Possibly directing the attack.”

  “No — they are American attack aircraft, Minister!” Colonel Sung shouted.

  “What are you talking about, Colonel?”

  “I received a phone call from Lieutenant General Terrill Samson,” Sung said. “He is the commander of the United States Air Force’s secret air weapons center. I know of him. He told me that he had stealth bombers in the area armed with special weapons that were capable of destroying both ballistic missiles and the MCRC. He warned me that his aircraft will attack if they do not get a response from us.”

  “What in blazes were you doing on a telephone in the middle of a battle?” Kim Kun-mo shouted. “I can have you shot for that!”

  “You’ve been fooled, Colonel,” General An said. “That call could have come from anyone. The Chinese certainly can look up an American general’s name and base of assignment and make up a tale like that.”

  “I know that, sir,” Sung said. “But he also told me that his bombers attacked the Chinese armored forces and caused them to retreat.”

  “What? The Chinese are in retreat?”

  “It must be verified,” Sung said, “but I think we should wait on our second missile attack until it can be verified.”

  “Nonsense!” Kim shouted. “We are not stopping any attack to verify anything, especially not based on information you received on an unauthorized, unsecure telephone call!”

  “Sir, he also told me that his bombers carry weapons that can destroy ballistic missiles in flight, and that his orders were to use them against missiles fired from either Korea or China…”

  “Ridiculous! I’ve never heard of anything like that before!”

  “He also said that—”

  “Colonel, you are relieved of command,” Minister of National Defense Kim said. “Get out of my command center. General An, designate a new senior controller, and proceed with the launch immediately! Security, escort this gullible, incompetent officer out of here!”

  “Sir, he said that his bombers have weapons that can destroy the MCRC,” Sung shouted as two security guards stepped over to him and reached for his arms. “If we do not establish contact with his aircraft, we will be destroyed!”

  “Get him out of here!”

  The two guards grabbed Sung’s arms, but he twisted away, grabbed a rifle that was slung from one of the guards’ shoulders, turned, and aimed it at Kim. “I won’t let you kill us all, you maniac!” he shouted, and pulled the trigger.


  General An raced forward to tackle Kim just as a line of bullets stitched across his back and left side. Sung swung the gun around and aimed it at the launch control console, but he was gunned down by another security guard before he could open fire.

  * * *

  “Fortress Two is defensive Patriot!” Annie Dewey shouted. They were penetrating from the southwest of Osan, the most heavily defended sector. She suddenly found herself bracketed by two Patriot missile batteries that had opened fire simultaneously.

  “Fortress Two, Fortress Two, be advised, I show a fault on your defensive system,” Patrick McLanahan radioed. “Decoy launchers, towed decoys, all jammers are faulted. Get out of there!”

  “We’ve got two Patriots opened up on us!” David Luger shouted. “We’re trying to get away!”

  “Annie, break right, let me have a shot at them!” Rinc shouted on interplane frequency.

  Rinc Seaver and John Long had released all of their Wolverine cruise missiles from maximum range, but they had not hit their targets yet. Seaver started a fast climb. “What are you doing?” John Long asked.

  “Just get a fix on those Patriots, Long Dong!” he shouted.

  Long zoomed the supercockpit display out, and sure enough the laser radar was tracking the inbound Patriot missiles. “Bring it all the way around to the north, Annie,” Rinc said. As they watched Annie make her turn, the incoming missiles started a right turn of their own. The missiles flew a ballistic flight path and aimed not for the aircraft itself, but for a “basket” of airspace where they predicted the aircraft to be when they arrived.

  “What in hell are you doing, Seaver?” Long repeated.

  “I’m going to shoot down those Patriots and get them off Annie’s tail,” Rinc said. “Get a couple Scorpions ready!” The supercockpit display showed Annie’s predicted flight path as well as the Patriot missiles’ predicted path. As the Patriots turned, Rinc pointed his Megafortress’s nose at the intersection of the two flight paths, waited until they were within AIM-120 Scorpion missile range, then shouted, “Shoot! Annie, break left, now!” John Long fired their last four Scorpion missiles at the Patriots.

  Annie turned hard left. At that exact moment, the Patriot missiles had activated their own onboard terminal guidance radar and began tracking. All four Patriots made a direct hit — right on the Scorpion missiles.

  “Got ’em!” John shouted. “Nice going! Now let’s get this attack under way and get the hell out of here!”

  “Fortress One, missiles away,” Rebecca said, and Paul Scott launched their last two remaining Lancelot missiles — not at any ballistic missiles, but at the set of coordinates for the Osan Master Control and Reporting Center that he had received from General Samson at HAWC.

  “Fortress Two, missiles away,” Dave Luger radioed.

  “Fortress Three, missiles…”

  At that moment, they received a MISSILE WARNING advisory on the supercockpit display and a slow-paced deedle deedle deedle warning over the intercom. “Missile tracking and height finder pop-up threat!” John Long shouted. “Looks like an I-Hawk, eleven o’clock, six miles, within lethal range! Hold heading! Hold heading! Missile counting down! Jammers active, towed decoy is alive.”

  “Withhold the launch! Withhold!” Rinc shouted. “Let’s get out of here before that I-Hawk tags us!”

  “Hold heading, dammit!” Long said. “Twenty seconds and we’re outta here! That’s an order, Seaver! Hold heading!”

  The rotary launcher had moved the first Lancelot missile into launch position and was counting down to release just as they received a MISSILE LAUNCH indication and a rapid-fire deedledeedledeedle tone. “Missile launch!” Rinc shouted. He looked out the left cockpit window and could see the first Hawk missile, an American-built air defense system, lift off on a column of fire and speed toward them. It looked so close that he thought they had flown right over it, although it was over five miles away.

  The Lancelot missile left the bomb bay, ignited its first-stage motor, and pulled ahead of the Megafortress. “Now! Break right! ’’ Long shouted.

  But it was too late. The Hawk guided unsteadily on the tiny radar cross section of the Megafortress until the Lancelot missile left the bomb bay, and then it guided on that larger target. When the Lancelot was only a thousand yards in front of the bomber, the Hawk hit. The plasma-yield warhead did not detonate, but the nine hundred pounds of solid rocket fuel did…

  … and the Megafortress flew directly through the fireball.

  “Shit! We’ve been hit!” Rinc shouted. The cockpit seemed bathed in fire, and it quickly started filling with smoke.

  “Rinc! Can you hear me?” It was Patrick McLanahan. “If you can hear me, break left now! Another Hawk missile launched! I’m activating your counter-measures! Turn left now!”

  Rinc started his turn — but then he noticed the supercockpit display. The Korean Patriot missile systems had successfully attacked and destroyed every other Lancelot missile launched against the Osan command center. Rinc had the last one.

  Fire lights started illuminating on the instrument panel one by one. “Two… no, three fire lights!” John Long shouted.

  “Eject, Long Dong,” Rinc ordered. “Get the hell off my ship.”

  Long looked at Seaver through the thickening smoke. His eyes widened, as if to apologize — then he straightened in his seat and pulled his ejection handles.

  Rinc twisted the knob on his ejection mode switch from AUTO to MANUAL just before Long ejected. He wasn’t going anywhere until the last Lancelot missile was gone.

  At that same moment, the I-Hawk’s tactical control officer saw the target still flying after missile detonation and immediately commanded a second launch.

  Rinc watched as the attack computers commanded the bomb doors to open partially — since the Lancelot missiles launched one by one from the rotary launcher, the doors did not need to open fully — and the last Lancelot missile was ejected into the slipstream. It dropped away from the bomber, its fins unlocked and stabilized the missile in the slipstream, the first-stage motor ignited, and the missile shot past the bomber and flew off into space on a ballistic trajectory.

  “Rinc!” he heard a voice call out. It was Rebecca. “Get out! Eject!”

  “I still show you in there, Rinc!” Patrick radioed. “Get the hell out, now! Eject! Eject!”

  The smoke in the cockpit had cleared as soon as Long’s ejection hatch blew off, so now he could see everything clearly. He saw the second I-Hawk lift off — and this one began tracking the last Lancelot missile too.

  Nuts to that, Rinc thought. He started a rapid climb, swept the Megafortress’s wings full forward, dropped the gear, and lowered full flaps and slats, instantly destroying all the bomber’s stealthy characteristics and increasing his radar cross section about 10,000 percent.He couldn’t see the I-Hawk missile anymore, but it didn’t matter — he had done all he could.

  “Rinc, what are you doing?” Rebecca called out. “Eject! What are you waiting for?”

  The mission was over. Time to get the hell out. “I’m with you, sweetheart,” he radioed back. “Pop open a cold one for me.” He reached down to his ejection handles…

  The I-Hawk missile hit the Megafortress’s vertical stabilizer, blowing it and most of the tail section off. The bomber nosed over into a gentle descent, then started a slow roll.

  Rinc was halfway through his second roll when he saw a shining silvery globe erupt just a few miles in front of the Megafortress. The inside of the silver orb looked like swirls and billows of liquid fire, but the surface of the globe was perfectly smooth, flawless. He pulled the ejection handles and shot out of the stricken bomber, out into the artificial marblelike sun growing before his eyes.

  He expected to feel a volcanic heat and hear thunder, something to demonstrate the horrible violence he was witnessing. Instead, it felt more like falling onto an infinitely soft pillow. He felt the silver orb surround him, caress him, welcoming him into the alternate dimension within�
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  EPILOGUE

  BATTLE MOUNTAIN, NEVADA

  SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

  Rebecca Furness’s Cessna P210 squeaked to a halt onto the cracked concrete runway. As usual, she landed right on the faded white runway numbers, but there was hardly any reason to do that — she still had over eleven thousand feet of concrete ahead of her. She turned off at the first intersection and taxied toward the weather-beaten old hangars and base operations building across the huge expanse of tarmac ahead of her.

  “I didn’t think this place was still open,” John Long remarked. He still wore a neck brace and bandages over one elbow as a result of his ejection, and it would be several more weeks until he was back on flying status. He had a copy of the Airport/Facility Directory open in his lap. “Says here there’s a Department of Forestry squadron here, and one card-lock fuel pump.” He looked over at Rebecca when she didn’t answer. She was handling the little single-engine Cessna okay, but her mind was a million miles away…

  … or, more precisely, eleven thousand miles away, in Korea.

  Rebecca taxied over to the unattended credit-card-operated fuel pump, shut down, and they stepped out into the brilliant sunshine and cool, fresh air. The airport was in a valley between two mountain ranges, with the biggest peak rising over five thousand feet above the airport only ten miles to the southeast. There were a few private planes parked here and there, a few cars parked beside the old base operations building. But the place looked deserted. A sign on the base operations building read, “Welcome to Tuscarora Army Air Corps Base, Battle Mountain, Nevada, elevation 4532 ft.” “I guess this used to be an old World War Two bomber training base,” John said. He looked around. “Must’ve been hairy flying around all these mountains, but it sure as hell is pretty secluded.”

  Rebecca still wasn’t saying much — in fact, she had hardly talked at all since picking up John at Reno-Tahoe International Airport and flying him in the rented Cessna to Battle Mountain. She was going to head into the base operations building, but she looked around and noticed that the old wooden hangar on the northeast side of the airfield had its doors open, and wordlessly she started walking in that direction. Long followed.