Refueling probe, iced over badly. Useless, I'd say. Twelve total AS-12 missiles, six on each wing, maybe stations for two more on each pylon. Bomb bay closed but not sealed. Ice all over the wings. The pilot had tres grands bouettes, I'd say.
"Altitude?Speed?"
"One thousand feet right on the dot, although he flew right over the bow. Speed two hundred knots but no flaps hanging.
Low and slow."
"He radioed a warning," Markham asked. "Said we were too close to Karanginsky Island. "Marceaux shrugged. "It is a warning he could back up.
Definiment.
"Those AS-12s will drop into the sea if he tries to launch them, Markham said, heading back to the Intel section's small alley for more coffee. "He might send some naval buddies 9 out after us, but I doubt it. This is the ugliest weather I've seen A out here.
"Is he still out there, sir?"Marceaux asked.
"No. He headed home in a hurry. Probably getting iced over pretty bad.
Like you said, he had to have king-sized balls to fly p around in freezing rain like that."
"Think he made us?"
"They made us as an intel ship days ago," Markham said, Iling a mug.
"But they're nervous about something. Risking Bear like that something's going on a As Marceaux refilled his mug from the pot, Markham wandered over to one of his signal operator's consoles. He Studied several oscilloscope-like displays on the console.
His attention focused on a pair of ten-inch signal display scopes, manned by a gray-haired Navy signalman. Markham looked over his shoulder, sipping his coffee. The two signals on the man's scopes, although much different from each other, were perfectly synchronized-when one wave on the scope became active, the other did also. When one stopped, the other stopped.
"Any change, Garrity?"Markham asked the sensor operator. Garrity shook his head.
"They're linked, that's for sure, sir," Garrity replied. He handed Markham a computer printout, then pointed to the left of his two main displays. "That's complete computer verification-frequencies, timing, the works-coded and ready to transmit. Kavaznya is getting stronger.
This one"--he pointed to the right oscilloscope-" is still weak but in perfect sync."
"Identification?"
Garrity adjusted some controls on his board, then sat back.
"Wild, wild guess," he asked. "A satellite data link."
"A satellite?"Markham whistled. "That radar at Kavaznya is talking to a satellite?"
"Maybe two satellites," Garrity asked. "Now this is really wild, I know, but I keep on seeing an embedded data signal in the Kavaznya radar transmission. It's slightly out of sync with these two signals "Meaning?"
"Meaning these two, Kavaznya and this second-whatever it is-may be talking. "Garrity rubbed at his eyes and went on.
"Kavaznya is talking to something else, though. Not a radar signal. A data signal."
"What kind of data?"Markham asked, trying to make some sense of what the operator was telling him.
"Hey, I'm just guessing here," Garrity said, shaking his head.
"Guess some more."
Garrity rubbed once again at his eyes. Then: "Steering signals. "As Markham bent forward to study the signals, Garrity pointed at his displays and explained: "Here and here.
Kavaznya and Joe Blow satellite. Simple transponder-type signals-interrogate and reply. That means azimuth and elevation "Position data," Markham said.
"It has to be," Garrity asked. "Kavaznya telling Joe Blow here where he is and vice versa. But then Kavaznya sends this blurb out.
Garrity drew a circle on a sheet of notebook paper. He recreated the Kavaznya oscilloscope signal as best as he could.
"Right here. I see it every now and then. "He drew a squiggle almost parallel to the Kavaznya signal, but much smaller and of a slightly different frequency, or shape.
"The timing is the most critical difference," Garrity explained. "The timing between Kavaznya and the second party is clear, but Kavaznya tells someone else something. And it's not just position data. I think it's a steering signal.
"Steering what?"Markham asked.
"Don't know," Garrity replied. "I've never seen anythin like it-hell, I'm not even sure if I am seeing it. A data signal embedded in a radar emission?"He shook his head. "I've been on duty for eighteen hours.
I might be seeing beeps and buzzes in my dreams."
"Code it," Markham said.
Garrity looked at him in surprise. "Code what?"
"Exactly what you told me," Markham asked. "Everything."
"I told you a fairytale," Garrity asked. "A wet dream. I don't have anything concrete. The computer hasn't verified any of my inquiries about the second signal destination.
"That doesn't matter," Markham asked. "They told us to report any findings of significance in the Kavaznya area. I heard that request came from very high. Code it and send it up for the Old Man's signature, then send it.
"This isn't a finding," Garrity protested. "It's an opinion... a guess. It's not really even an educated guess-" "Listen, Garrity," Markham said, "something screwy is going on. The Russians risk a fifty million ruble bomber in a freezing rainstorm to scare us away. Now Kavaznya is active It's been active for days," Garrity said.
"Then how come you haven't seen these side data signals before?"
Garrity had no answer for that.
"Something's going on, and we're right on top of it," Markham said.
"Code exactly what you told me, then send it. "Garrity shook his head.
"You're the boss. But do I need to put my signature on it?
They'll laugh me right outta the Service.
"They might give you a goddamned medal," Markham said."if you're right.
VANDENBURG AiR FoRcE BAsE, CAuFomm A single green and gray camouflaged locomotive wound around a curve on a deserted railroad siding. It pulled a quarter-mile-long train of long, six-sided rail cars, moving easily at about twenty miles an hour.
Eight miles away in an underground control center, a group of Air Force officers were being briefed by another group of civilian contractors on the test that was about to take place.
"Range reports ready, Mr. Newcombe," a technician said.
Newcombe, the chief civilian contractor, nodded. "Tell them to stand by. General Taylor, gentlemen, the range has just reported ready. All of the Air Force tracking stations from here to Guam are ready for the first operational test launch of America's newest strategic weapon-the GLM- 123 Javelin Small Mobile Intercontinental Ballistic Missile, or, as the press has so fondly christened it, "Midgetman."
"What can I tell you about her that you don't already know?"Newcombe searched the faces around him. Taylor shook his head and smiled, lighting a briar pipe. These Air Force generals had been working with him for years. MajorGeneral Taylor, the chief of the Strategic Development Branch, Aerospace Systems Division, Air Force Logistics Command, was an old friend. This test-its success an almost foregone conclusion, after seven previous successful launches-would ensure Taylor's third star and another promotion. Of course, Newcombe's new position as senior vice-president of the Javelin's prime contractor was already in the bag.
"The train orbiting the test track is typical of a normal Javelin mobile rail deployment," Newcombe asked. "Six cars in all-the locomotive, two missile cars, two security cars, and the launch command and control car. Each car is super hardened against EMP-that's electromagnetic pulse effect, for you neophytes-caused by nearby nuclear explosions.
"The new arms-elimination agreement have you worried, Ed?"one of General Taylor's aides asked Newcombe. "Javelun would be the first to lose research and development funding."
"Of course, we all want to see world peace," Newcombe asked. "The arms-elimination treaty would be a great break through. But I feel it's just as important to continue with serious research and development. This will mark the culmination of those tests-the birth of a new kind of strategic weapon for the United States.
"The Javelin is the m
ost versatile weapon of its kind in the world," Newcombe continued. "Our quick-reaction rail launch test today demonstrates just one possible way it can be deployed; we've done other deployment tests that you won't believe.
"The Javelin is small enough to be carried aloft on cargo aircraft, such as a C-513 or even a modified Boeing 747, Dropped via parachute, an successfullyy air-launched-no silo, no launch vehicle or submarine needed. Versions of the Javelin have successfully accomplished what we've called 'telephone pole' tests. We've rolled a Javelin missile off the deck of a Navy destroyer. In the water, it floated into a perfect upright launch attitude and was successfully fired by remote control.
"Its potential is unlimited. The Javelin has an advantage over other small tactical or strategic nuclear vehicles-despite its small size, the Javelin carries three warheads, not just one or even two. In addition, the Javelin is designed to carry the new maneuverable reentry warhead, which makes the Javelin's business end many times more survivable should the Soviets decide to redeploy antiballistic missile defenses in the future. It might be worth it to replace cruise missiles and gravity weapons with Javelins if the arms-elimination treaty is ratified. "Interested nods from General Taylor-he was already planning on star number four.
Newcombe walked over to a map of the Vandenburg Air Force Base rail test track. "The Javelin missile has been riding Vandenburg's track for only a few hours. In a few moments we'll demonstrate the ability of our Javelin to launch within sixty seconds of a launch order.
"We've 'leaked' it to the Javelin test crew that the launch will be sometime this afternoon. The crew is completely isolated and has no idea that we're about to stage the test.
"When the order is given, the train stops right where it is. A continually-running ring-laser gyro navigation unit instantly feeds position and gyro alignment data to the missile guidance system. By the time the rocket is ready for launch, the erector has raised it to firing position and the crew has authenticated the President's launch order."
Newcombe checked the control panel, then studied the map.
"General, the crew is right... here. "He pointed to the map.
"Eight miles south of our position. We should be able to see the launch after you transmit the launch command. Sir?"
General Taylor stepped forward and glanced at his watch.
"Ten o'clock on the dot," he asked. "Let's do it. "Newcombe directed the general to a large red button mounted on a box on the master control panel. The Air Force general pressed the button, and Newcombe started a clock. Everyone else glanced at his watch.
"If you'll follow me, gentlemen. "General Taylor led the way out of the control room and outside into a large stretch of sand dunes and low scrub trees. Newcombe put the sun on his left shoulder and pointed westward.
"General Taylor's command has alerted the launch crew as well as the tracking and telemetry stations," he explained.
"The rest is simple. While the train comes to a complete stop, the doors of the train open and the missile canister begins to erect. The canister is raised rearward, so the exhaust end of the missile is hanging off the end of the railcar.
"Meanwhile, the crew decodes and authenticates the launch order. All of the missile's internal 'housekeeping' functions are automatic. By the time the crew verifies the message and inserts their launch keys, the missile is ready to go.
Newcombe checked his watch; seventy-five seconds had already elapsed.
He looked up at his military spectators.
"I told you gents this would be a surprise At that instant, a thunderous roar rolled across the dunes.
Several of the spectators, Newcombe included, jumped. All looked southward.
The missile itself could not be seen except as a tiny dark speck, but the half-mile-long tail of flame was clearly visib] from eight miles away The pillar of fire rose, accelerating at unbelievable speed. It felt as if the rocket exhaust was blasting at them from directly overhead.
"A few seconds late, gents," Newcombe said over the slowly receding noise. "But spectacular, eh?"Newcombe pulled out a walkie-talkie.
"Control, this is Newcombe. Pipe the telemetry narrative outside, please."
"Amazing," General Taylor asked. "An intercontinental missile with an eight-thousand-mile range, ready for launch in a little over sixty seconds.
"Javelin at sixty nautical miles altitude, seventy-three miles downrange," the voice of the launch controller reported.
"Expecting first stage burnout in forty seconds. Speed approaching two thousand miles per hour. Altitude now eighty three nautical miles, one hundred seven miles down range...
"Very impressive," General Taylor asked. "A most successful launch.
"The Javelin hasn't begun to perform, General," New combe asked. "We'll begin receiving telemetry from Guam and the Marshall Islands soon.
They'll tell us the progress of the Javelin's warheads. We expect a circular error pattern of not more than a hundred feet.
"One hundred feet!"one of Taylor's aides asked. "After an eight thousand mile flight on a small I.C.B.M?Why, that's-" "Unbelievable, I know. "Newcombe smiled. "Although the Javelin is transportable and deployable in dozens of ways, we haven't just created a mini-I.C.B.M.
The Javelin is just as accurate as the new MX Peacekeeper missile, yet it's one-third the size and one-half the cost."
"Javelin at two hundred seventy-three miles altitude, turning further seaward now at three hundred miles downrange," the controller intoned.
"Successful first stage burnout and second stage ignition. Velocity seven thousand miles per hour.
"Inertial systems functioning well.
"We can listen in on the rest of the launch from the visitor's area," Newcombe asked. "We have champagne ready."
"Minor inertial course correction," the launch controller said. His voice sounded a bit more strained - Newcombe shot a puzzled glance at the loudspeaker, then wiped his face clean and replaced the puzzlement with a broad smile. No one else had noticed the inflection, or they weren't showing it...
"Guam reports tracking Javelin on course. Javelin at four hundred nautical miles altitude, one thousand one hundred miles downrange," the controller reported. Suddenly his reports were coming faster.
"Javelin con -ecting course...
reestablished on course... now correcting course again for premature third-stage ignition... Guam reports loss of tracking and telemetry from Javelin. Mr. Newcombe, to the control center, please."
Newcombe's beeper went off, but he was already running for the command center.
"We have lost the Javelin," the monotonous voice continued. "We have lost the Javelin."
ABOARD THE U.S.S. ILAwRENCE "Damage report!All Sections, damage report!"
If anyone could see Commander Markham's hands at that moment, they would see knuckles as white as chalk as they crushed the seatbacks he was gripping for support. Every one of the thousands of lights in the U.S.S. Lawrence's intelligence section had snapped out. A few battery-powered lights automatically came on, but they did little to penetrate the solid darkness of the steel-lined, windowless chamber.
Markham wondered how the order for a damage report was being broadcast.
It had to be a battery-operated backup intercom. Hand over hand, he felt his way along the double rows of seats on either side of the aisle toward the front of the intelligence section. He felt a few men rising from their seats, and he risked letting go of the seatbacks to push them back down.
"Keep your seat, Kelly," he ordered. "The damn lights just went out, that's all. Check your station. "He heard a timid, "Yes, sir" in reply.
Markham made his way to the ship's radio box mounted on the section's forward bulkhead. The radio was hardly ever used-stray transmissions from the intel section's computers could be picked up for miles through such an antiquated telephone. He picked it up.
The hum he heard in the receiver was deafening, but someone was still trying to use it. "Intel section. Do you read me?Intel section-" "Intel, M
arkham here," he shouted into the phone.
"Bridge, this is Markham. How do you hear?"
"Very weak," replied the voice-Lieutenant Commander Christopher Watanabe, the first officer, Markham guessed.
"Damage report."
"No structural damage noted yet, Chris," Markham said.
"All our power is out. All our equipment is shut down."
Dale Brown - Flight Of The Old Dog Page 16