Target Utopia

by Dale Brown

  All right, Braxton thought to himself as he called up the launching panel on the computer, on to Plan D.

  16

  Over the South China Sea

  TURK CONTINUED TO climb. As the Tigershark passed through 25,000 feet, he noted that the Chinese fighters had separated into two groups, both with four planes apiece. The first, flying on a direct course for the tug and the cargo ship, had just reached 30,000 feet. They were two hundred miles away but moving well over Mach 1; they would reach the area in roughly twelve minutes. The other group, flying to the west, were lower and slower. If they kept on their present course, they would reach a point about fifty miles west of the ships a few minutes after the first group.

  Turk could engage the first group, but without the Sabres it would have to be at close range. That would make it difficult to shoot them all down before the other planes were in a position to threaten his guys below.

  Of course, he wasn’t authorized to shoot anyone. Just the opposite. He radioed Danny for instructions.

  “You can intercept the Chinese aircraft,” Danny told him. “But don’t fire on them.”

  “With respect, Colonel—”

  “Those are your orders. If they change, I’ll let you know.”

  Bullshit, thought Turk.

  “Computer, prepare intercept for Bandit Group One,” he said. “Plot an engagement for all four aircraft.”

  “Computing.”

  ABOARD THE TUG, the team had disarmed two explosives and was working on the last, which would allow them to enter the lowest deck level of the ship. Achmoody estimated it would take ten minutes to get the device disarmed; they would need another five to check the passage for other booby traps by sending a small robot equipped with an explosives “sniffer” down the corridor.

  “Don’t rush it,” Danny told Achmoody. Then he went back up on the deck to talk to Breanna on the Whiplash circuit.

  “The Chinese are coming,” he said as soon as she acknowledged.

  “Yes, we see.”

  “Can we shoot them down?”

  “Only if they are an active threat,” she said. “We’re informing the White House now.”

  “If we wait until they come, they may be difficult to deal with.”

  “I realize that, Danny. If you feel you have to protect yourself,” she added, “do what you have to do. I’ll back you up. It’ll be on my orders.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  AS SOON AS Cowboy heard Danny hailing Greenstreet, he knew what was up, and exactly what Greenstreet would say as soon as the brief transmission ended.

  “Basher flight, we’re going back,” said Greenstreet a few seconds later. “Three and Four—dump your bombs. We’re dealing with Chinese fighters.”

  TURK LIKED THE fighting ballet the computer had projected, but he also knew it would never work out that pretty.

  It had him going head-on against the lead aircraft, nailing it and then taking down the jet on its right wing. From there he was to flip around and take the farthest plane in the group before accelerating to nail the last. Maybe he could get the first three if they didn’t react quickly, but there was no way he was going to catch the last plane. Once he saw what was going on, the Chinese pilot would dive and accelerate. Granted that would take him out of the immediate fight—an achievement the computer would find acceptable when diagramming an engagement—but it would leave the American units vulnerable to a later attack.

  It was academic, though. Turk had orders not to fire.

  What to do? It was highly unlikely that they would fall for his flare trick a second time, and besides, they were moving too fast for him to try it.

  The only thing to do, he concluded, was climb and wait.

  He thought of putting out his landing gear and tossing tinsel out to increase his radar signature so they could pick him up. It might scare them off, or it might provoke them into turning on their targeting radars. But there was no guarantee they would do either. And it would cost him the element of tactical surprise, which might be of use if he was ever allowed to attack.

  The idea of disobeying his orders kept occurring to him. He was trying to get out of Whiplash, wasn’t he?

  But some part of him just wouldn’t let go. Even though he thought he knew better, his training insisted that he follow the command of his superior, assuming he still had faith in his judgment.

  And bottom line, he did trust Danny.

  “Recompute intercept at this point,” Turk told the computer, pointing near the ships.

  17

  The White House

  PRESIDENT TODD WAS welcoming a group of schoolchildren to the Oval Office when David Greenwich, her chief of staff, appeared at the door.

  It never seemed to fail—just when she was doing something she truly enjoyed, there was an important interruption.

  “Now children, I have a question for you,” she told the dozen fourth-graders, all of whom had come to Washington following a national history competition. “How many would like to be President someday?”

  One hand went up, albeit very slowly. Then another, still tentative, and finally the rest.

  Thank goodness, thought Todd. Many days no one wanted her job.

  “Well, I can’t make you President,” she told the class. “But you can see what it is like to sit in my chair. Would you like that?”

  The chorus of “Yes!” nearly rattled the walls.

  “Teachers, please arrange that. Mr. Devons will help you.” She smiled at the assistant education secretary, who was escorting the group. “Make sure everyone gets their picture taken.”

  As the children lined up, the President discreetly walked to the door.

  “The Chinese have sent aircraft against Whiplash,” whispered her chief of staff.

  Todd led him out into the hall, out of the others’ earshot.

  “Have the Chinese been warned off?” she asked.

  “They’re in the process of trying that. They wanted you to know that they may ultimately shoot them down.”

  “If that’s what it takes,” said Todd.

  “You want to call in Senator Peterson and the Speaker,” suggested Greenwich.

  “Round up the usual suspects, eh?” Todd smirked.

  “The Chinese ambassador has called you twice this morning. I’m sure he won’t be silent.”

  “Congress will complain one way or another,” said Todd. “We need our technology back. Prepare the situation room. I’ll go down for an update as soon as I finish with the children. We don’t have to worry about the Chinese—they won’t go to war over this.”

  “It’s Congress I’m worried about. They’ll use anything to say you’re going beyond your powers. They’ll accuse you of trying to start a war.”

  “I’ll deal with Congress. I know there’ll be fallout, David. But better to deal with it over the incident than to lose the technology as well.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the chief of staff.

  “If I dealt with China the way the leaders of Congress wanted,” added Todd, “I’d be letting them take control of the world and kill my people in the process. And that will never happen on my watch.”

  18

  The Cube

  RAY RUBEO SAW the alert from the Navy’s stealth UAV and immediately went to the information screen. Four aircraft had just launched from an islet about fifty miles east of the two ships.

  They had to be Braxton’s.

  Rubeo called up a map of the area, zooming in on the little ellipse of sand and overgrown jungle. It looked very much like the tiny island close to Malaysia where the bunker had been blown up. It hadn’t shown up on the geographical match search because it was thought to be outside the range of the UAVs.

  Assumptions.

  Rubeo picked up the phone that connected him to his New Mexico lab.

  “Have we cracked the command coding yet?” he asked.

  “Sorry, Ray. We’re working on it. It’s pretty damn complicated.”

  “They’
re launching more combat UAVs,” said Rubeo. “Can we observe their transmissions and back-engineer the encryption?”

  “We’re on that but it looks hopeless. We need either the back door or just brute force, which is already what we’re doing.”

  “Keep at it.”

  Rubeo put the phone back down. Breanna was standing next to him.

  “They’ve launched more aircraft,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Rubeo.

  “Do you think they’ll do anything with the Sabres?”

  “It’s a possibility,” admitted Rubeo. “But if their main intention was stealing, more likely they’re using this to cover their retreat.”

  “If they were interested in retreating, why launch the aircraft at all?” said Breanna. “We didn’t know about this base—they could have hidden there.”

  “Yes.” Rubeo nodded. They were missing something.

  “Can you take over the planes?” Breanna asked.

  “We know how we can transmit, but we can’t get around the encryptions they’re using. Not yet.”

  Pena Gavin, the head of Cube security, entered the room and walked down to the station where they were standing.

  “Breanna? Do you have a moment?” she asked. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “It’s not a great time—”

  “I know, but . . . there’s—someone at the gate needs to see you.”

  “Not now,” said Breanna, annoyed at what seemed a trivial interruption. The security officer shifted uncomfortably, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “Tell him to go to the Pentagon office,” added Breanna. “I don’t have time—”

  “It’s your father.”

  19

  Daela Reef

  THE LIMITED INSTRUCTION set in the combat UAVs meant that Braxton had to continue guiding them for two minutes after the booster separation; only then could he direct them to the two ships and let them go.

  Monitoring the aircraft as they climbed out from the launch area, he saw from the passive radar sensors that the Chinese had sent fighters in the direction of the ships—and another set toward him.

  There were American aircraft over the ships as well: three Ospreys. While he couldn’t see it, Braxton guessed that the Tigershark would be there too, with or without its Sabres.

  Which gave him a better opportunity than he had hoped for.

  He set his four UAVs on course for the area over the ships, and instructed them to defend the ships against all unfriendly aircraft—a default preset that allowed the planes to use all of their programmed maneuvers to fight until there were no more contacts in the air.

  “Your planes are in the air,” said Wen-lo. “Now, take us to the launcher.”

  “I have to program them all first,” said Braxton. “Or they’ll just fly around over the island and bring the Americans here. We don’t want that, right?”

  The wide-area plot showed Braxton that the UAVs would reach the area of the ships at roughly the same time as the Chinese did. That was perfect. He started to get up, then sat back down as Wen-lo walked to the door.

  “I’ll be right there,” he said, deciding not to leave anything to chance. He designated the lead Chinese aircraft as the primary target for the first UAV, then cleared the screen quickly so Wen-lo couldn’t see what he had done.

  “All right, let’s go,” he said, jumping to his feet. “We have to get the Sabres loaded ASAP. The Americans are bound to send more aircraft and other reinforcements.”

  20

  South China Sea

  EVEN THOUGH HE was currently flying with passive sensors only, so he couldn’t be easily detected, Turk could see the approaching combat UAVs thanks to the input from the Cube. There were four of them, exactly like the ones he’d dealt with earlier. They were heading straight for the Chinese J-15s.

  If the Chinese saw them, they didn’t react. The UAVs were also apparently using passive sensors, no doubt more sophisticated than anything the Chinese had.

  Turk clicked into the Whiplash circuit to talk to Danny. “Colonel, Kallipolis has launched UAVs.”

  “Four of them, right? I just heard.”

  “Just a guess here, but they look like they’re going to attack the Chinese.”

  “Warn the Chinese that we’re conducting an operation,” said Danny. “Tell them to stand off. And tell them about the UAVs. Make it clear that they are not ours.”

  “No way they’ll believe that,” said Turk. “But yes, sir.”

  Turk broadcast the warning. He got no response.

  “Listen guys, I know you can hear me,” he said, dropping the formal tone he’d used at first. “No shit, there are four combat UAVs running right at you hot and heavy. And they will shoot you down. Believe me; we’ve dealt with them.”

  “Stop your tricks, American,” responded one of the Chinese pilots.

  “I’m not playing tricks. I’m above you to the south, about twenty-five thousand feet. I know you can’t see me. The four UAVs are low, they’re coming from the east, and they can take you down in a heartbeat.”

  “We see you south.”

  “That’s another flight. I’m over the ships. Those UAVs are just about on you,” added Turk, seeing the plot. “They’re going to attack. They’re climbing—”

  “You are playing a trick.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Order them away.”

  “Those aren’t our planes,” answered Turk. “They’re being run by high-tech pirates who’ve stolen technology and are helping terrorists. That’s what this operation is all about.”

  The Chinese pilot didn’t answer—verbally. Instead, he turned on his weapons radar, targeting the Ospreys.

  The Ospreys immediately began evasive maneuvers. Their electronic countermeasures could adequately fend off the Chinese medium-range radar missiles; heat-seekers and cannons would be a different story.

  “Don’t threaten our planes or I’ll be forced to shoot you down,” said Turk.

  “Stand down, American,” said the Chinese pilot.

  A second later there was an electronic shriek over the circuit—the UAVs had fired their lasers in unison, destroying the lead plane.

  THE EXPLOSION SHOOK the ship so badly that Danny fell against the railing on the catwalk around the bridge.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked Achmoody over the radio.

  “Robot set off one of the bombs,” replied the trooper. His voice sounded shaky. “There must have been a motion detector at the far end of the corridor that we didn’t see. It blew out the entire passage.”

  “Anybody hurt?”

  “Just egos,” said Achmoody. “The explosion put a pretty big hole in the bulkhead. We’re starting through now.”

  Danny had barely turned around when he saw a black cloud appear in the sky to the north.

  “Turk, what’s going on?” he asked.

  “The UAVs are engaging the Chinese aircraft. The Chinese think they’re ours,” he added.

  “Tell them they’re not,” said Danny. Then he had another thought. “Can you help them? Keep them from being shot down?”

  “You want me to help the Chinese?”

  “Yes.”

  “Colonel—”

  “Do it, Turk.”

  “Roger that,” snapped Turk.

  21

  The Cube

  BREANNA’S THROAT FELT as if it had turned to stone. She could barely breathe, let alone swallow. She stood just inside the inner door at the top of the Cube entrance, in front of the elevator to the lower levels. Two security aides, submachine guns in their hands, were at her side.

  “Daddy, why are you here?” she asked.

  “Ray said you needed help. If you don’t want me—”

  “Did he tell you what we need?”

  “There was a text that said something about DNA coding.”

  “We need Jennifer’s body exhumed,” said Breanna. She hadn’t seen her father in nearly five years. He looked thinner, sc
ruffier, yet somehow younger than she remembered. Emotions were flooding through her; it was a struggle not to scream at him.

  “No, you need her DNA profile,” he said. “It was analyzed. I have it here.”

  He held up a small USB flash drive.

  “It’s part of her password,” added Tecumseh Bastian. “I know what you need it for—it’ll let you in the back door of the AI programs she worked on. All of them. Braxton stole it, didn’t he?”

  “You know?”

  “We suspected. That’s why he was fired.”

  “I thought . . . he was harassing Jennifer.”

  “He was. But that’s not why he was fired. She’s all on this disc, her DNA. Not her.” Bastian smiled, but it was a sad, wistful smile. “Over seven hundred fifty megabytes. She designed it herself.”

  Breanna hesitated, then reached out her hand.

  “It’s password protected, the drive,” he told her. “I’m not sure which password she used. She had a couple.”

  The elevator opened behind her. Ray Rubeo stepped out. For a moment Breanna felt as if she were watching them on a video screen.

  “Ray,” said Bastian.

  “General.”

  “I brought the drive with the sequence.”

  “You should come downstairs,” Rubeo told him. “I may need you.”

  “It’s not up to me.”

  Breanna looked at her father. He still had his clearance, though after everything that had happened, Breanna didn’t know whether she should let him down or not.

  There could be anything on the drive.

  And did she want to trust him?

  What she wanted was to yell at him, to ask why he had run away, walled himself off from her and Zen and their daughter. Leaving the military she could understand, mourning Jennifer Gleason she could definitely understand, but deserting her?

  Blaming her. Along with the others. That was the reason.

  “We need to move quickly,” said Rubeo. “I suspect that the launch of the UAVs is aimed at providing cover as they make off with the Sabres. It’s the only logical explanation.”