“So if you make DreamStar play defense …”
“DreamStar does not play defense, Patrick,” J.C. said, pounding on the canopy sill to drive home his point. “The only defense maneuver programmed into that system is high-speed escape, and that’s only if the ANTARES interface is broken or damaged. As long as it’s fully functional, it never thinks defense. DreamStar is always thinking attack. Always. If you force it into a defensive role you know that DreamStar is thinking about how to attack in response. And when it’s thinking, you have the advantage. True, it may only be for a second or two, but during that time you have an advantage, and that’s when you have to take him out.”
“Sounds like you got this all figured out, J.C.”
“Hey, DreamStar’s a fantastic machine; you can’t beat it in technology or maneuverability — you have to think at a level where even ANTARES has a weakness. You fly unpredictable, fly in three dimensions, fly by instincts instead of by the book or by some computer. ANTARES has problems handling that …”
As the KC-10 began a shallow turn right toward Tegucigalpa in southern Honduras, J.C. gently yawed Cheetah around to follow. They had just crossed the north coast of Honduras directly over the Honduran Air Force base of La Cieba. Even though the Hondurans had only twenty-five aircraft, La Cieba was a large, modern, high-tech base — mostly because of the U.S. military, which used the base for “joint training missions,” and subsequently “assisted” with base improvements that virtually built an American air base at La Cieba. There were often more American planes at La Cieba than other aircraft in all of Honduras.
“Storm Two, Sun Devil Three-Two is ready for your final refueling any time,” the copilot aboard the KC-10 tanker reported. “Airspeed coming back. Cleared to pre-contact position.”
“Roger, Sun Devil,” J.C. replied. “Moving to pre-contact.” J.C. pulled the throttles back to eighty percent power and watched as the KC-10 moved slowly ahead. Cheetah would get one more refueling as they transited Honduras; then Sun Devil Three-Two would land as scheduled at Tegucigalpa and refuel, and Cheetah would continue on its strike-escort route.
The refueling went without a hitch. They stayed in contact position right up until the KC-10’s initial approach fix to Toncontin International Airport at Tegucigalpa, so Cheetah could fill up to full tanks right until the last possible minute — Cheetah had to complete its mission, escort the strike aircraft out of the danger area, then return to La Cieba and land. Every drop of gas was critical.
“Well, boys, you got another ten thousand pounds courtesy of the people of the great state of Arizona,” the pilot of the KC-10 radioed after he had started his approach to Tegucigalpa, “Take care, I don’t want to read about you in the papers.”
“Likewise,” J.C. replied. “We’ll see you in about three hours if we need you. Over.”
“We’ll be waiting and ready. Sun Devil out.”
The channel went dead. J.C. ordered the voice-command computer to reset the radios to the strike mission channelization, with the command radio on the strike-aircraft frequency and a scan on all UHF and VHF frequencies for ground-controlled intercept activity in Nicaragua. At the same time, Powell started a turn toward the east and a rapid descent to five-thousand feet, which would put him about a thousand feet over most of the lush tree-covered mountains of northwestern Nicaragua. They were skirting the northern Nicaragua border, staying deep within the Cordillera Entre Rios valley to avoid Nicaragua’s main surveillance radar site situated on top of a fifty-seven-hundred-foot mountain near Cuyali in the center of the country.
“Shouldn’t we have heard from them?” J.C. asked a few minutes later. He had fitted a night-vision visor over his eyes to help him pick out the rugged peaks and valleys surrounding them in the rapidly growing darkness.
“Few more minutes,” McLanahan told him. He had the satellite transceiver unit set on the strike frequency as briefed back at Dreamland; because of the high terrain all around them, UHF or VHF communications would be impossible. “Then all hell will break loose.”
It wasn’t like the old days, Major Kelvin Carter told himself. It was a damned sight better.
He was sitting in what could best be described as the inside of a computer surrounded by multi-function, multi-color computer monitors, LED readouts and synthesized voices. The cockpit windscreen undulated with laser-drawn images describing search radars, terrain and performance data. The big two-horned yoke and massive center-console throttle quadrant were gone, replaced by static force side-stick controls, a special control stick that did not move but sensed the amount of pressure being delivered and commanded the appropriate input to the flight controls, and electronic mini-throttles.
He was sitting in what probably was the most advanced electronic cockpit outside DreamStar’s — the cockpit on the upper deck of Dog Zero Two, the second experimental B-52 M-model Megafortress Plus.
She was a more potent weapon than her predecessor, Old Dog. Every possible system in the aircraft, from flight controls to navigation to weapons, was controlled by computer — and many of those systems could be activated or monitored by voice commands, helping to reduce workload even more. The Mega-fortress Plus had been virtually rebuilt from the spine up with advanced composite materials, even lighter and stronger than fibersteel.
But her most outstanding feature was her weapons fit: she had been redesigned to carry almost every missile or bomb in the Air Force inventory. In her role as a defense suppression “super escort” battleship, as on this mission, she carried enough weapons to equip a dozen tactical aircraft — and she could carry those weapons almost eight thousand miles without refueling.
For self-defense, the Megafortress Plus carried fifty aft-firing Stinger “air mine” missiles, which had a range of almost two miles and could be steered by the fire-control radar operated from the gunner’s position, and six AIM-120C Scorpion air-to-air missiles, three on each wing pylon, for defense against fighter attack. She also carried a wide array of electronic jammers and decoys to confuse or shut down enemy radars. Her terrain-following capability, where she could automatically fly any desired altitude above ground “hands off,” was also a valuable self-protection feature.
For destroying enemy radars and weapon sites, the Old Dog Two carried four AGM-136 Tacit Rainbow anti-radar drones, two on each wing external pylon, which would home in on enemy radars from long distances. These were planned for use against the four known fixed-radar defense sites along the flight route. For unexpected threats she carried six AGM-88 HARM High-speed Anti-Radar Missiles on a rotary launcher in the aft bomb bay, designed to destroy mobile anti-aircraft guns or missile sites.
For attacking the KGB airbase itself, she carried four AGM-130 Striker glide bombs in the forward bomb bay, which could be launched from as far as twelve miles away against the aircraft hangars or other high-value targets at Sebaco. To destroy runway, taxiways and parking ramp she carried two cluster-bomb dispenser drones on the rotary launcher in the aft bomb bay, small winged vehicles that would fly around a preprogrammed or designated spot and scatter (one hundred) twenty-pound bomblets over a wide area, cratering concrete and destroying aircraft or vehicles unlucky enough to be there at the time.