Sky Masters

by Dale Brown

  position to launch."

  "We lose all our safety margins if we bypass the safety locks, Jon-" But

  Philips could see that Masters didn't care. He punched in instructions

  in the launch-control console to bypass the safety interlocks, which

  usually prevented an armed but malfunctioning booster to be wheeled into

  position for release. The interlocks prevented an accident on board the

  plane and the inadvertent dropping of a live booster out the launch

  baynow there were no safety backups. The bypass showed up immediately on

  Helen Kaddiri's alternate launch-control board. "Jon, I've got an

  'Unsafe Warning' light on. Is the booster locked down? I show the

  interlocks off."

  "I turned them off' Helen, " Jon said on interphone. He stood with a

  flashlight at the mouth of the launch-bay airlock as the huge ALARM

  booster was motored back into launch position. "We're checking the

  umbilical plug."

  "You can't do that, Jon, " Helen warned. "If it's more than just a plug

  problem, the booster might proceed to a final launch countdown before

  you can open the bay doors or before we can inhibit the ignition

  sequence. You're cleaning a loaded gun with your finger on the trigger

  and the hammer pulled back." Masters glanced up at the cylindrical

  launch-bay airlock, which actually did resemble the chamber of a gun;

  inside, he could see the nosecap of the Air-Launched Alert Response

  Missile, which certainly resembled a bullet, as it motored into

  position. His head was right in the muzzle. "Good analogy, Helen, " he

  said wryly. The booster slid into position. "Try the umbilical

  self-test, " Masters said to the launch-bay technician. A moment later,

  Philips gave him his answer: That's it, Jon!" he said with a shout.

  "There's a break in the umbilical connector-we had proper voltage but no

  signal. Come out of there and we'll have it fixed in no time."

  "Forget it. No time. I'll do it myself." Before anyone could say

  anything else, Masters had scrambled inside the launch airlock and began

  crawling down along the ALARM booster. "Jon, are you nuts?" the

  technician said. "Helen, this is Red. Jon just crawled down into the

  airlock. Put the interlocks back on. "No!" Masters radioed from inside

  the launch airlock. "Continue the countdown."

  "This is Kaddiri. I'm setting the interlocks, operator-initiated

  countdown hold. Crewman in the launch airlock. Interlocks on. Just then

  the self-test on the booster's umbilical ended with a satisfactory

  reading. "Continuity restored... you got it, Jon, you got it, "

  Philips said. "But we've passed the launch window." "Start the

  countdown at T minus sixty, " Masters said. "The booster has the

  endurance to make the corrections, and we built a little leeway into the

  launch window. Continue the countdown... "I am not going to reactivate

  the system until you are out of there, " Kaddiri said testily. "I'm out,

  I'm out, " Masters said as his sneakers appeared from the muzzle of the

  airlock. "Let's do it." Masters closed the airlock doors the second he

  was out of the chamber. Philips gave him his portable oxygen bottle,

  and he was just putting it on and strapping himself into his seat when

  the airlock was depressurized. Less than sixty seconds later the booster

  was on its way. "Good separation, good first-stage ignition, " Helen

  reported as the forty-three-thousand-pound missile accelerated ahead of

  the DC-10 and roared skyward. "Clear connectivity in all channels . .

  . wings responding, swiveling on schedule . twenty seconds to

  first-stage burnout. Masters waited a few more moments as Kaddiri

  continued to monitor the launch, then said with a faint smile, "Well,

  that was close. You know what happened? The plug was off by a fraction

  of an inch. It was in close enough to report a closed and safe reading,

  but there wasn't any data transfer. Worse, that would have only shown

  up when the booster was in launch position and the interlocks were

  removed. On the dock, it was hooked into a different data bus and

  reported okay. No wonder we thought it was TDRS' fault." Kaddiri

  continued to read off the booster's primary performance more for the

  benefit of the mission voice recorder than anything else. The recorder

  served as a backup to the computerized data-retrieval system. She

  didn't say a word to Masters. Wouldn't even look at him. Masters

  noticed the silence and fidgeted a bit. Every launch flight lately

  seemed to bring out the worst in her. Where was her sense of adventure?

  Forget it, he decided, she didn't have one. Still, she was part of his

  team and he wanted to keep things on an even keel. "Good thing I caught

  it, huh?" he asked almost sheepishly. "No, " Kaddiri said evenly, not

  looking at him. She didn't want to go into it with him. Not now. They

  were, after all, being recorded. Still, he had removed all the safety

  interlocks, leaving them totally unprotected in case there'd been an

  ignition-circuit malfunction or a guidance-computer malfunction. That

  booster could have easily gone off in the cabin and killed them all.

  Worse he'd reconnected a malfunctioning plug on a live booster. Who

  knows, she wondered, what that would have done? Masters knew she was

  reviewing the past few minutes and said, "Helen... it was on countdown

  hold."

  "Because I put it there, Jon." And, she thought, if we'd done it your

  way and continued the countdown, Masters might be splashing down in the

  Pacific right now, right behind our twenty-million-dollar booster-if the

  thing didn't cook off first. "Well, " Masters said expansively, "it's

  dead on course, dead on speed, dead on altitude. It'll be in orbit in

  eight minutes and the friggin' Air Force can get a look at all that shit

  going on in the Philippines."

  "Whatever you say, Jon. "Helen, come on. "Drop it." And he did.

  PALAWAN PASSAGE, NEAR ULUGAN BAY PALAWAN PROVINCE, THE PHILIPPINES

  THURSDAY, 22 SEPTEMBER 1994, 0417 HOURS LOCAL The Hong Lung task force

  had driven to within twenty kilometers of the fleeing Filipino fleet

  when the first Shuihong-5 antiship flying boat arrived on the scene. The

  Chinese flotilla was picking its way through a series of reefs and

  shoals along the Palawan Passage on the west side of the island of

  Palawan, the westernmost province of the Philippines. Most of the

  island was remote and sparsely settled, but Ulugan Bay, the Filipino

  fleet's obvious destination, had the best-outfitted port facilities at

  Nanan. It was also only forty-five kilometers north of Puerto Princesa,

  a former United States Air Force base on Palawan that was now a

  Philippine Air Force base; that base was the largest airport on Palawan

  and the center of the isolated island's meager population. "Talon

  Eight-One, this is Dragon, " Admiral Yin Po L'un radioed to the pilot of

  the flying boat. "Reconnoiter the Filipino attack fleet to the east.

  Report on any hostile activity. Authorized to return fire if fired

  upon. Warning, Chinese vessels have already been attacked and destroyed

  by this combat group. Proceed with caution." It was a moot warning for

  the Shu
ihong-5 crew-if they followed their previous pattern, the

  Philippine vessels would fire on the flying boat. The Shuihong crew

  would then return fire with their murderous cargo and destroy most of

  the Filipino warships. But it did not happen. Several minutes later,

  the pilot of the Shuihong-5 antiship aircraft reported, "Sir, Talon

  Eight-One reporting. We are in contact with four surface vessels,

  repeat, four vessels. The larger vessels identified as PF-class

  frigates, repeat, two PF-class frigates. Two smaller, probably PS- or

  LF-class patrol vessels. Over." "Commander Chow had reported possibly

  two PS patrol boats out there, " Captain Lubu said. "He mentioned a

  corvette... "But there are two frigates instead of two patrol boats, "

  Yin said. "Chow can't identify ships very accurately at night at

  distances over five kilometers, even with ISAR radar." Lubu nodded, not

  quite convinced but accepting the explanation for now. "The PS patrol

  boat is probably the Rizal identified as the helicopter platform, " he

  added. "We should be on the lookout for another missile attack from the

  helicopters."

  "They're running, " Yin said confidently. "The fight has gone out of

  the cowardly bastards. What is the status of the enemy ships now? Why

  haven't they opened fire on the patrol plane?" A large patrol plane

  like the Shuihong-5 was a major threat to any ships such as those of the

  Filipinos', which had no antiaircraft missiles. "What is his range?"

  "Nine kilometers, " Lubu reported, relaying the information from the

  Combat section. "They detect search and navigation radar only-no

  target-acquisition radars detected. He is awaiting instructions."

  Incredible, Yin thought-how could the frigate captain stay so cool in

  the face of an airborne hostile contact? Surely he must realize that

  the Chinese Air Force had such strike aircraft in the region? And then

  he realized that the Philippine vessels probably had no antiair weapons

  other than their guns, which had a maximum range no farther than four to

  five kilometers; the Hong Lung's Hong Qian-9 surface-to-air missile had

  a range of about seventy kilometers, and Yin would not hesitate to use

  them against any unidentified aircraft that flew within range of his

  ship. "Close to five kilometers, maintain contact, report any change in

  hostile status, " Yin ordered the patrol plane. "I want positive

  identification of all vessels in that formation." The Shuihong-5 pilot

  hesitated for a few long moments-he realized that his commanding officer

  had just ordered him to fly within gun range of the Filipino vessels.

  The pilot responded hesitantly, "Yes... sir. Talon Eight-One copies."

  There were a few warning messages broadcast in English on international

  emergency channels, but Yin ignored them all. The plane drove only a

  few kilometers closer before the slowscan P-band air-search radar

  switched to a high-PRF X-band fire-control radar, and soon, at precisely

  five kilometers range between the largest ship in the Filipino battle

  group, Admiral Yin heard the satisfyingly terrified voice of the pilot

  screaming in the radio that he was under fire from heavy antiaircraft

  artillery. "Return fire, " Admiral Yin ordered angrily. "Clear to

  launch air-to-surface missiles. Stay out of gun range and at high

  altitude; Dragon task force will be attacking as well." Yin turned to

  Captain Lubu. "Are we receiving target telemetry from the patrol

  plane?"

  "Yes, sir, " Lubu responded, double-checking with his Combat Information

  officers. The Shuihong-5 patrol plane could transmit radar data from

  its Heracles II surface-search radar to other ships capable of accepting

  the information; the Hong Lung could use this information to target the

  Fei Lung-7 antiship missile as if it were picking up the radar data from

  its own transmitters. "Very well, " Yin said smugly. "Begin our attack.

  Launch two Fei Lung missiles from long range, get a strike report from

  the plane, and re-attack with two more. I want this battle concluded as

  quickly as possible, Lubu." PUERTO PRINCESA AIRFIELD, PALAWAN, THE

  PHILIPPINES The naked young girl lying on Colonel Renaldo Tamalko's

  chest was so thin and lithe that he inadvertently tossed her onto the

  floor as he reached for the incessantly ringing phone. He grunted an

  apology to the girl as he picked up the receiver. "What?"

  "Command Post, Sergeant Komos, sir, " the voice of the NCO in charge of

  the tiny Philippine Air Force base at Puerto Princesa, Palawan, replied.

  "We've received an urgent message from a naval task force group west of

  Palawan, requesting immediate assistance."

  "Wait a second." Tamalko flicked on the light and rubbed his eyes

  sleepily. All that registered to the Philippine Air Force squadron

  commander was that his command post senior controller was excited, and

  that usually meant bad news. The old window-mounted air conditioner was

  on full force, but the room was still hot and steamy. He motioned

  toward a glass of clear liquid on the table in the center of the room,

  silently ordering the girl to bring it to him and hoping that it wasn't

  more booze. He watched the young maid's gentle curves and tight butt as

  she brought the glass over to him-she didn't look any older than

  fourteen or fifteen, but her sexual skills were certainly well

  developed, he thought. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back over to

  him, and guided her hand back to his crotch. The glass had a bit of

  whiskey mixed with several melted ice cubes, so he contented himself

  with pouring the liquid over his face to help wake himself up. "Say

  again, Sergeant?"

  "A Navy captain Banio of the Thirty-first Patrol Group from Zamboanga

  has issued a tactical emergency warning message to all military units, "

  the NCO said. "He states that a Chinese naval force is in pursuit and

  is approaching Palawan, about forty miles west of Ulugan Bay. He

  requests immediate air support."

  "A Chinese naval force? In pursuit? Of who? Pursuing him? What kind

  of air support does he need? What the hell is going on out there?"

  "We're trying to raise him again, sir, " Komos said. "There was a brief

  radio message about an attack in progress, but no more details are

  available."

  "Shit, " Tamalko swore. Fucking Chinese. To Komos he said, "This had

  better not be some kind of joke, Sergeant. Did you receive any kind of

  verification? Was the message authenticated?" "No, sir, " the

  controller replied. "Contact has not been reestablished." Tamalko swore

  to himself. This could be some kind of drill or exercise-it was similar

  to the kind of stuff the Americans liked to pull, when the Americans

  used to be here. But since the Americans had been kicked out of the

  Philippines, things had been very, very quiet... Too quiet, as matter of

  fact. The Communist guerrillas, who were numerous and strong on Palawan

  and the other outlying provinces, had stepped up their recruitment

  drives and had certainly become much more active, but incidents of

  violence were not as commonhe hadn't had one of his officers shot or

  beaten up downtown in we
eks. Before the Americans departed, it seemed to

  happen every weekend. As much as almost everyone in the military hated

  having a Communist like Daniel Teguina as First Vice President, it was

  obvious that his election had a stabilizing effect. Tamalko would

  probably have shot the bastard if he met up with him in a dark alley,

  but if, because Teguina was in office, the peasants liked him and quit

  shooting up the villages, so much the better. So what was this shit

  with a Chinese invasion? It had to be bogus, an exercise cooked up by

  some know-nothing staffer in Manila. He had been involved with many

  such scenarios with the American Navy and with other military units in

  ASEAN, the Association of South East Asian Nations, whose member nations

  frequently ran joint exercises with the newly independent Philippine

  military. But bogus or not, Tamalko knew he had to act decisively. He

  had to do everything he could to make sure that his cushy job here at

  Puerto Princesa, one of the most beautiful seacoast towns in all the

  world, was protected. Puerto Princesa was a diamond surrounded by

  jungle and mountains, far enough from Manila to retain a very relaxed

  atmosphere. He was in charge of a small squadron of F-4E

  fighter-bombers and F-5R day fighters purchased from the United States,

  and he also maintained the base for other miscellaneous military and

  civilian air operations. There was no job on Earth better than his, and

  he guarded it jealously. The girl was halfheartedly trying to arouse

  Tamalko with a rather distracted pumping action, obviously hoping he

  would leave soon so she could get some sleep. He pushed her head into

  his crotch, watched her begin her work, which she did as if completely

  bored, then turned back to his phone: "Sergeant, start a squadron recall

  immediately. Tell Captain Libona in Maintenance to get two F-4s fueled

  and ready to fly in twenty minutes; I will take one, and I'll take the

  first sober crew that shows up with me. The girl between his legs nipped

  at him, and the sudden pain sent a bolt of dazzling blue energy

  radiating from his penis through the rest of his body. "I want a full