Lieutenant Kirk "Starship" Andrews tried to ignore the pull of the Megafortress as it turned toward the north, focusing all of his attention on the control screens in front of him. His Flighthawks—Hawk Three and Hawk Four—were just passing through 25,000 feet, climbing toward 30,000. The Johnson's radar was tracking four MiGs, flying in tight formation at roughly Mach 1.2, coming across the Black
Sea.
"What's the word on the ROEs?" Starship asked the Johnson's pilot, Lieutenant Mike Englehardt, referring to their rules of engagement — the orders directing when they could and couldn't use force.
"No change. We're not to engage beyond the border."
"These guys are loaded for bear," Starship told him. "They're either coming for us or they're going to hit something in Romania. Either way, I say we take them down now."
"Our orders say no."
"Screw the orders."
"Yeah, we'd all like to, Starship," said the pilot. "But our job is to follow them. We'll get them when they cross." "By then it may be too late. What's Dog say?" "It's not up to him."
Starship nudged his control yoke, bringing Hawk Three on course for a direct intercept of the MiGs. He could take at least one of the planes down when they came across the border; with a little luck and help from the computer, he might get two. The Johnson could shoot down the rest with Scorpion-plus air-to-air missiles.
But by then the MiGs would be in position to launch their own attack, albeit at long range, against either the Johnson or the pipeline.
"Radar profiles indicate bandits are equipped with two AS-14 Kedge and free-falls," said the radar operator. "Possibly GPS guided. Aircraft are still proceeding on course."
Free-falls were bombs dropped almost directly over the target; they could be guided to their destination by the addition of a small guidance system that used GPS readings. More deadly were the AS-14 Molinya missiles, known to
NATO as the Kedge. The air-to-ground missile could be guided by laser, thermal imaging, or television. In some respects similar to the American-made Maverick, its range was about ten kilometers — just enough to hit the gas pipeline without crossing the border.
"They'll be in range before the border, or just after it," Starship told Englehardt. "Look, they shot down the helicopter. Things have changed."
"Look, you're preaching to the converted," Englehardt replied. "I'm already on the line with them."
"If they're carrying bombs, my bet is they're going after the gas line," Dog told General Samson. "They'll do serious damage, a lot more than that guerrilla strike. Given the tactical situation, I'd say we should consider the rules of engagement obsolete. I say we get them right now."
Part of Samson wanted to agree; the other part realized that this was just the sort of thing that could be used to end his career.
"We can always call Washington," suggested Dog.
Samson started to reach for the headset, intending to do just that, then stopped. Bastian was lionized in Washington. Why? Because he didn't stop and ask for permission every time he wanted to do what was right. He just went ahead and did it, consequences be damned.
A good way to end your career if you were a general, however.
But damn it, Bastian was right. If they hesitated now, the pipeline would be blown up. And he would get the blame for that, no matter what else happened.
"Give me that damn headset," he told Dog.
General Samson's gravely voice boomed in Starship's ears.
"This is Samson. What's your status, Flighthawks?" "Ready to engage, General. If I can cross the border." "That's what I want to hear. Shoot the bastards down. Those are my orders." The line snapped clear.
"Wow, he sounded a little like Colonel Bastian," said Englehardt.
"Nothing wrong with that," said Starship, changing course as he laid on the gas.
Like most pilots who had the misfortune to deal with Flighthawks, the MiG drivers didn't realize they were under attack until the first flash of bullets streaked across their windscreens. By then it was too late for the lead pilot. Within seconds of Starship pressing his trigger, the MiG's cockpit exploded.
Hawk Three's momentum took it out of position to attack the second MiG in the formation, as Starship had originally planned. He jammed his controls, trying to drag the small plane's nose around to the north to get a shot as the MiG shot past. But the MiG pilot had gone to afterburners as soon as he saw the flare of the gun in the night sky, and Starship realized following him would be pointless.
"Bandit Two is by me," Starship told Englehardt.
"Roger that, we see him."
Starship felt the bomb bay's doors opening behind him as he turned his attention to Hawk Four, which he'd aimed at the other two MiGs. The computer had flown the plane perfectly, but its human counterpart in the MiG managed to evade the Flighthawk's first attack, pushing over and twisting away in a ribbonlike pattern, despite the heavy burden under its wings.
Starship took over the plane from the computer, trying to press the attack as the targeting pipper blinked red, then turned to yellow. Abruptly, the plane squirted upward, throwing the Flighthawk by him in a flash. The maneuver worked, but Starship realized that the weight of his bombs would negate most if not all of his engines' advantage over the Flighthawk. He pulled the robot plane back in the MiG's direction, matching the climb. As he got closer, the Russian rolled his plane over. Starship got two bursts in, then slid on his wing to follow. As the MiG leveled, it ejected his weapons stores and asked the engines to give him everything he had.
"Missiles!" yelled Starship.
"Weapons are AS-12 Keglers," said the radar operator. "He's out of range. They won't make the border."
"Bandit Three is out of it," Starship reported. "I'm going after Bandit Four."
"Starship, we have two Sukhois coming at us from the north," warned Englehardt.
"Copy," said Starship, filing the information away in his brain. It was too theoretical to act on at the moment.
"Splash Bandit Two!" said the copilot, Lieutenant Terry Kung. "Two hits!" The Megafortress's missiles had just taken down the MiG.
Bandit Four had tucked south, away from Romania, but was now coming back north. Starship took over Hawk Three, slapping the throttle slide against the final detent as he vectored toward an intercept.
Zen had once described flying the robot aircraft as an act of sheer imagination — that to fly the Flighthawks successfully, a pilot had to see himself in the cockpit. Sometimes, Zen claimed, the illusion became so real he could feel the plane shake and shudder in the air.
Starship disagreed. He didn't feel any illusion that he was inside Hawk Three as it thundered toward the MiG. He didn't think of either plane as a plane at all — they were vectors and flashes on his screen, triangles and dots, with a thick box at the top of the screen showing where the MiG's lethal range began.
The MiG altered course, heading toward the southern end of the box. Hawk Three was coming at him from an angle off his right wing. According to the computer, it would arrive at an intercept in exactly fifty-two seconds.