"Come on, baby, find the son of a bitch she thought aloud.
Beneath the aircraft the ASAT missile's tracking head came on, searching the sky for the infrared heat signature of the Soviet satellite. A light blinked on Buns's instrument panel.
"My weapon is tracking! Repeat, my weapon is tracking. Auto launch sequence equipment is activated. Altitude ninety-four thousand feet seven hundred-breakaway, breakaway!" She felt her aircraft lurch as the heavy missile dropped free and immediately brought her throttles back to low power and brought the stick back to loop the fighter. She checked her fuel state. The afterburning climb had nearly emptied her tanks, but she had enough to make Langley without tanking again. She had already turned for home when she realized that she hadn't seen the missile. It didn't matter anyway. Nakamura turned west, letting the Eagle settle into a shallow dive that would terminate on the Virginia Coast.
Aboard the LearJet, a tracker camera followed the missile upward. The solid-fuel rocket motor burned for thirty seconds, then the warhead separated. The Miniature Homing Vehicle, an infrared heat sensor embedded in its flat face, had long since acquired its target. The Soviet satellite's on-board nuclear reactor radiated waste heat out into space, and the resulting infrared signature rivaled the sun. As its microchip brain computed the intercept course, the MHV made a tiny course alteration and the distance between warhead and satellite dropped at a precipitous rate. The satellite was northbound at eighteen thousand miles per hour, the MHV southbound at over ten thousand, yet another hi-tech kamikaze. Then-
"Jesus!" said the senior officer on the LearJet as he blinked his eyes and turned away from the TV screen. Several hundred pounds of steel and ceramic had just turned to vapor. "That's a kill, say again that's a kill!"
The TV picture was downlinked to Space Command, where a radar picture backed it up. The massive satellite was now an expanding cloud of orbiting rubble. "Target is negated," said a calmer voice.
LENINSK, KAZAKH S.S.R.
The loss of signal from the Kosmos 1801 satellite was recorded scant seconds after it was obliterated from the sky. It was no surprise to the Russian space experts, since 1801 has used up its maneuvering thrusters several days before, and had been an easy target. Another F-1M rocket booster was sitting on a launch pad of the Baikonur Kosmodrome Complex. An abbreviated launch sequence countdown would be under way inside of two hours-but from now on the ability of the Soviet Navy to locate convoys and fighting fleets would be in jeopardy.
"Well?" Buns asked as she jumped down from her fighter.
"Kill. We have it on tape," another major said. "It worked."
"How soon do you think they'll launch a replacement?" One more kill and I'll be an ace!
"We think they have one on the pad now. Twelve to twenty-four hours. No telling how many spares they have ready."
Nakamura nodded. The Air Force had a total of six remaining ASAT rockets. Maybe enough, maybe not-one successful mission did not make it a reliable weapon. She walked over to the squadron headquarters for coffee and donuts.
STENDAL, GERMAN DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC
"Goddammit, Pasha!" CINC-West swore. "I don't have a four-star deputy so that he can run around playing divisional commander. Look at you! You might have got your head cut off!"
"We needed a breakthrough. The tank commander was killed and his deputy was too young. I have given us the breakthrough."
"Where is Captain Sergetov?"
"Major Sergetov," Alekseyev corrected. "He performed well as my aide. His hand got carved up and he's having it attended to. So. What reinforcements do we have moving to the 8th Guards Army?"
Both generals moved over to a large map. "These two tank divisions are already en route-ten to twelve hours. How firm is your bridgehead?"
"Could be better," Alekseyev admitted. "There were three bridges there, but some madman started dropping rockets into the town and wrecked two of them. That left one. We managed to get a mechanized battalion across, along with some tanks, before the Germans were able to destroy it. They have plenty of artillery support, and when I left, we had boats and bridging equipment coming in. The man who relieved me will be trying to reinforce as soon as he can arrange a crossing in force."
"Opposition?"
"Thin, but the terrain is on their side. I'd estimate one regiment or so, the remains of other NATO units. Some tanks, but mainly mechanized infantry. They also have plenty of artillery support. When I left it was a very even match. We have more firepower, but most of it's trapped on our side of the Leine. It's a race to see who can reinforce quickest."
"After you left, NATO threw aircraft in. Our people are trying to hold them back, but NATO seems to be ahead in the air."
"We can't wait for night. Those bastards own the night sky."
"Go now?"
Alekseyev nodded, thinking of what casualties he was bringing down on "his" division. "As soon as we can assemble the boats. Expand the bridgehead to two kilometers, then get the bridges across. What's NATO bringing in?"
"Radio intercepts have identified two brigades en route. One British and one Belgian."
"They'll send more than that. They must know what we can do if we exploit this. We have 1st Guards Tank Army in reserve..."
"Commit half of our reserves here?"
"I can't think of a better place." Alekseyev gestured at the map. The drive toward Hannover had been stopped within sight of the city. The northern army groups had gotten into the outskirts of Hamburg, at the cost of gutting 3rd Shock Army's tank formations. "With luck, we can break all of the 1st into the enemy rear. That will get us to the Weser at least-maybe the Rhein."
"A large gamble, Pasha," CINC-West breathed. But the odds here were better than anything else on the map. If the NATO forces were stretched as thinly as his intelligence staff said, they had to crumble someplace. Perhaps this was it? "Very well. Start posting the orders."
FASLANE, SCOTLAND
"What about their ASW forces?" asked the captain of USS Pittsburgh.
"Considerable. We estimate that Ivan has two major antisubmarine warfare groups, one centered on Kiev, the other on a Kresta cruiser. There are also four smaller groups, each composed of a Krivak-class frigate and four to six patrol frigates of the Grisha and Mirka type. Add to that a large collection of ASW aircraft and finally twenty or so submarines, half nuclear, half conventional," answered the briefing officer.
"Why don't we let them keep the Barents Sea?" muttered Todd Simms of USS Boston.
There's an idea, Dan McCafferty agreed silently.
"Seven days to get there?" Pittsburgh asked.
"Yes, that gives us a good deal of freedom on how to enter the area. Captain Little?"
The captain of HMS Torbay took the podium. McCafferty wondered if the Brits had any need for NFL-style noseguards in their team sports. Under six feet, but very broad across the shoulders, his head topped by a shock of sandy, unruly hair, James Little certainly looked like one. When be spoke, it was with toughly won assurance.