by Dale Brown
ing the instrument panel in the aft cockpit. Without a stick,
throttle, or pedals, Patrick could do nothing during takeoff but
watch the engine instruments and hang on. He glanced at the
large yellow-and-black-painted handgrip between his legs un-
demeath the center of the instrument panel-the ejection han-
dle-and mentally measured the distance to it . . .
DreamStar shot forward like a dragster popping off the starting
line. James commanded the engine to max afterburner, increas-
ing thrust to well over eighty thousand pounds. At almost the
same instant he also commanded activation of the auto-alpha
Louvers on the top of the engine nozzle swung
flight mode.
open, diverting one-third of the engine thrust diagonally upward,
compressing the rear main landing gear struts to their lowest
72 DALE BROWN
1
position and allowing the nose-gear strut to extend fully.
DreamStar was now pointing ten degrees upward, in full un-
stick, takeoff attitude.
The trailing edges of the two canards deflected downward.
The engine, coupled with the foreplanes, was now shoving
DreamStar's nose skyward-its computers controlling the ca-
nards kept the one-hundred-thousand-pound fighter from flip-
ping backward out of control. As speed increased and the canards
began to fly the nose, the louvers diverting the engine thrust
upward gradually swung downward, allowing the thrust to ac-
celerate the fighter and lift the tail off the runway. At one hun-
dred knots airspeed DreamStar's nose gear lifted off the runway.
The pitch attitude increased to thirty degrees, held just below
the stall by the computer-controlled foreplanes. At one hundred
and fifty knots DrearnStar lifted off the runway, and because the
wings, foreplanes and engine were commanded for maximum
lift, she rose like an elevator.
In just over one thousand feet, the same distance a small
general-aviation plane used at takeoff, the fifty-ton jet fighter had
left the ground. Once airborne, thrust again was automatically
diverted to optimize climb performance. DreamStar was now a
rocket, being propelled skyward at well over twenty thousand
feet per minute. By the time it reached the end of the two-mile-
long camouflaged runway, it was over eight thousand feet above
the ground.
JC. Powell's promise to keep up with DreamStar was kept for
about five seconds.
He and McLanahan saw James give the signal to release
brakes. "Two good engines," McLanahan called out from the
aft cockpit as eased both engines into max afterburner.
"Roger. TWo good cookers."
They saw DreamStar dash forward, then saw its forward fu-
selage jut into the sky and its canard's trailing edges snap
down-
ward . . .
Then DreamStar disappeared.
JC. cursed. "Hang on. " But try as he did, Powell could not
match DreamStar's spectacular liftoff or climb rate. While
DreamStar's pitch, power, and thrust controls were automatic,
Cheetah's were mostly hand-controlled, relying on reaction time
rather than electronics to trim the aircraft. When DreamStar dis-
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 73
appeared from view, 's first reaction was to pull back on the
stick to try to follow. But Cheetah had not reached unstick speed,
and Cheetah's computerized canard pushed the nose down to the
runway to gain speed.
"Command override, " the computerized voice suddenly in-
tedected as Cheetah's nose fell and the nosewheel struts com-
pressed. "Stall warning. "
"Damn, too much," murmured, and let the nose fall a
few feet and watched the airspeed rise. "So much for a short
takeoff record." He let the airspeed rebuild to one hundred
eighty knots, then eased back on the stick. Cheetah glided gently
off the runway. This time, with plenty of "smash," Cheetah's
canards responded by pulling the nose higher into the air to take
advantage of the extra speed.
touched the computer interactive control on his stick.
"Gear up."
Three red "LANDING GEAR UNSAFE" lights illuminated, and
Patrick could feel the rumble as the two main wheels and the
nosewheel lifted through the slipstream. "Landing gear un-
safe, " the computerized voice said. Five seconds later: "Land-
ing gear up and locked. "
"Gear's up," Patrick said. "TWo hundred knots. Passing six
thousand feet. "
began pulling the engines one by one out of afterburner
to conserve fuel. "Left engine to MIL power . . . right engine
to MIL . . . Okay, where is he?"
"Four o'clock high, coming down-"
D'reamStar had appeared out of nowhere; it was in a full-
power descent, nose aimed straight at Cheetah's canopy.
jammed both throttles back into max afterburner and
began a hard roll to the fight.
"Too late, he's gonna hit .
Cheetah lunged forward but DreamStar kept on coming. Pat-
rick could now see DreamStar's canards, deployed diagonally
underneath the fighter's belly in their high-maneuverability po-
sition. He could even see DreamStar's thirty millimeter Vulcan
cannon muzzle screaming in closer and closer . . .
But DreamStar did not hit. The closer it came, the more the
fighter began to flatten its flight path. It resembled a giant eagle
swooping in on its prey. The cannon muzzle never strayed off
Cheetah's canopy, even as DrearnStar reached its prey's alti-
74 DALE BROWN
tude-it began to fly sideways, keeping the gun dead on target,
paralleling Cheetah's right turn. As Cheetah began to accelerate,
DrearnStar snapped out of its sideways flight path and maneu-
vered into a right rear quartering missile-attack aspect.
"He hosed us," Patrick said. "He's at our six. He made a
gun pass on us on our climbout. He's in infrared missile-launch
position. Roll out and get him back into fingertip formation.
rolled wings level, paused, then rocked his wings twice.
A few seconds later DrearnStar was tucked in on Cheetah's right
wing, so close that they could have had overlapping wingtips.
"Only got a glimpse of him," said, "but he looked like
he was haulin' ass. Tell him to stay with the ROE."
It was a JC. Powell trademark to push the rules of engage-
ment to the limits; now he was complaining about someone else
pushing the ROE. "He's in fingertip," Patrick reported to Pow-
ell. "I'm sending him to the tactical frequency." Patrick ex-
tended both hands in front of him, fists clenched, one on top of
the other, the signal to switch to the agreed-on scrambled tac-
tical frequency; hand signals, used as much as possible, pre-
vented eavesdropping. James nodded that he understood.
On the new scrambled VHF frequency, called, "Storm
flight, check in."
"TWo," a monotone voice immediately replied.
"Nice moves, Ken," Patrick said. "Wit remember the ROE.
No maneuvering and no closure rate greater than two hundred
knots
within one mile of your target. I'd say you came close on
both.
"Yes, Sir. " The metallic-sounding voice was James' altered
by the computer. It sounded almost sarcastic. Or was Patrick
imagining that?
"Okay, forget it," Patrick said, imaging Powell's face.
didn't like being upstaged. He wouldn't be sore because he had
been upstaged by a younger pilot but that he had been hosed by
a machine called ANTARES. "Ken, ready to start so7e dog-
fighting? "
"Affirmative.
"Roger. Lead will come left, heading three-one-zero to stay
inside our airspace. On roll-out, Ken, you are the fox. We'll
give you fifteen seconds, then we're coming after you. Block is
ten to fifty thousand feet, keep it under the Mach, please, or the
camera telemetry won't keep up with you. And stay within the
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 75
ROE, gents. We're all on the same team ... Lead, come left
heading three-one-zero. Head's up."
11TWo's in."
started a hard left turn to Patrick's assigned heading. The
roll was a bit more abrupt than it should have been but it didn't
seem to faze James-he stayed right in there, perhaps a few feet
farther out, but still in tight fingertip formation. The instant
rolled out of his turn, DreamStar merely dropped straight down
out of sight.
"There he goes," Patrick said. "Straight down, I can't see
him. "
"Fifteen seconds," Powell complained dryly. "He could be
in the next state in fifteen seconds."
"That's why he only gets five seconds. Go get 'em."
Powell rolled inverted, then pulled hard on the stick. Cheetah
did a tight inverted turn, losing five thousand feet. Patrick was
straining against the G-forces shoving him deep into his seat,
trying to look up through the canopy to where he thought
DreamStar would be.
I "Tally ho," sang out. "Coming up on our twelve
0 clock. Right where I thought he'd be." Patrick fought a wave
Of vertigo as he searched for DreamStar on radar. Normally the
back-seater on an F-15E fighter-bomber would use his radar and
process the attack for the pilot, but Patrick was only along as a
camera operator and observer- would have to find and pro-
cess his own targets. But already had very unconventional
help, and he quickly began working on his kill.
He hit the voice-command button. "Attack radar transmit,
target report. " Patrick watched as the attack radar went auto-
matically from "STANDBY" to "TRANSMIT" and began a
wide-area scan.
"Radar transmit, " the computer responded. Almost imme-
diately, the computer reported, "Radar contact, range fifteen
miles. "
"Heads up display."
's windscreen was filled with symbols and numbers,
seemingly floating in space. Unlike regular HUDs, heads-up dis-
plays-pieces of plate glass that reflected up from the instrument
console to the pilot-Cheetah's consisted of large banks of high-
resolution laser projectors that created three-dimensional images
that hung in space. Unlike a reflected HUD system, which relied
76 DALE BROWN
on the pilot orienting himself directly behind the glass, Chee-
tah's laser-projected images were visible no matter how the pilot
moved in his seat, and even bright sunlight or glare on the wind-
shield could not wash the images away. The laser images showed
an icon of DreamStar with a diamond symbol around it, indi-
cating that Cheetah's attack radar was locked onto it. Columns
of numbers surrounding the icon showed DreamStar's heading,
airspeed, range and closure rate.
"Target designate . . ." Powell said. Instantly micro-wattage
laser projectors in his helmet scanned his eyeballs, and a holo-
graphic circle and crosshairs was projected up onto the wind-
screen corresponding to exactly where he was lookin . He
centered the crosshairs on the icon, ". - . now." 9
"Target radar lock, " the computer reported.
"Laser slave to radar," ordered.
"Target laser lock. " A four-pointed star superimposed itself
on DreamStar's icon. Unlike Cheetah's attack radar, the laser
rangefinder was undetectable by any of DreamStar's radar-
detecting threat-warning receivers. Cheetah could carry a dozen
laser-guided ATM-12 Cougar hypervelocity missiles, which were
high-speed, nonexplosive, relatively inexpensive guided mis-'
siles. Fired from very short to very long ranges-it had no war-
head and therefore no minimum-range requirements-the Cougar
missile could be used to attack both air and ground targets,
destroying its target by sheer force of impact.
DreamStar was still cruising along on the same heading. He
hadn't been detected-yet. As James drove in closer he would
eventually pick up Cheetah's radar emissionsJ JC. had to control
his excitement and steady his voice to issue more commands to
the computer.
"Radar standby."
"Radar standby. " The laser rangefinder would now process
the entire kill without danger of detection.
took a deep breath. "Arm laser missile."
"Arm laser missile, warning, practice missile armed. " The
weapons multi-function display showed Cheetah's ten weapons
stations, the belly-mounted Cougar missile rack illuminated with
the number 12 on it, signifying the number of hypervelocity
missiles remaining.
"Launch laser missile."
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 77
"Launch ... Warning! Collision warning. Collision warn-
ing. "
barely had time to react. DreamStar had just frozen in
mid-air, still on its original heading, and let Cheetah drive right
at him, chopping the distance between the two advanced fighters
from ten miles to practically zero in the blink of an eye. Powell,
with no choice, rolled hard behind DreamStar and dived past
him. The computer had processed the launch conimand, but
Powell doubted very much if he'd ever be credited with a "kill"
with a closure rate and maneuver like that.
"God . . ." McLanahan breathed. He remembered how they
had used the same maneuver in the B-52s in the past. Especially
one particular B-52, his Old Dog Zero One, on that mission
over Russia that seemed like a million years ago. "Now I know
what it feels like to get sucked in . . . "
"He knew we'd try that dive on him," Powell said. "He was
waiting for us. The minute he detected our attack radar was off
he knew we were committed. He just put DrearnStar on max
alpha hover and chopped his power." But JC. didn't linger on
James' maneuver. He knew DreamStar could accelerate back to
combat speed and pull in right behind him just as fast as he had
slowed down. So selected full afterburner and yanked the
nose skyward, throwing Cheetah into a near-vertical climb.
"You mean ANTARES outguessed you?" Patrick taunted as
he clung to his handlebars in the steep climb.
didn't take the bait. "That was my fault. I performed
like any pilot would if he sees a bogey
below him. Well, enough
of that. No more predictability."
Fighting in the horizontal, DreamStar, it seemed, was un-
beatable-but DreamStar had only one engine and was less pow-
erful when fighting in the vertical. In spite of Cheetah's weight
penalties she was still a powerhouse when it came to dogfighting
in two dimensions.
"Laser to standby. Radar to transmit," Powell spoke into the
voice-recognition computer. It acknowledged his commands and
gave presentations of his emitter and weapons status on the dis-
plays in the cockpit.
Cheetah was nearing the top of the altitude block when
suddenly rolled her into a wild backward loop. "I'm betting he
didn't have time to break out of that hover and follow us up
here. I'm betting he's still right where we left him . . . "
78 DAIE BROWN
JC. had let the nose just barely fall through the horizon when
the holographic diamond again appeared on the windscreen.
"Tally ho. " He didn't wait for the computer to acknowledge the
radar lock-on but centered the electronic crosshairs on the icon.
"Target, now. Ann missile. Launch missile."
The computer acknowledged. "Radar missile launch.
"Fox two, fox two for Storm One," Powell called over the
interplane frequency. "Storm One descending through forty
thousand. Head's up, partner."
"Fox four for Storm Two," came the reply. "Seven o'clock,
one-half mile . And then the voice added, "Partner. Heads-
up.-
Still inverted, Powell looked to his left, and right off his tail,
also inverted, following as if it was Cheetah's shadow, was
DreamStar!
"But I've got a lock-on .
"On a cloud of chaff," Patrick said. "When you made your
zoom, he mustve popped a dozen bundles of chaff and climbed
up with you and stayed on your tail. You just shot a Sparrow
missile into a bunch of tinsel."
rolled wings-level and lowered his oxygen visor with an
exasperated snap. "The guy's right on today."
Patrick checked the fuel readouts, did a quick check of his
equipment and warning lights. "Looks like forty minutes to go,