by Dale Brown
escape plans, depending on what, if anything, he was taking
with him-one route was to be used if he was alone and on foot,
another if he was driving a car, another if driving a truck, an-
other if he was carrying a "black box" or another unit. But
never had he expected to take DreamStar with him. Compo-
nents, drawings, computers, electronic media, yes-never the
whole plane.
Only one mind-set seemed to make sense-that morning in
the cockpit he told himself he wasn't going to make it but it was
worth it to die trying. If he did beat the odds and lift off, he had
to buck even greater odds to fly the eight hundred miles from
Dreamland to the deserted airstrip in central Mexico for the re-
fueling planned by his KGB contacts in Los Angeles and Mexico
City. Then he'd have both the American and Mexican air forces
to beat on his way to Nicaragua, plus American forces based on
El Salvador and Honduras-none of them very large or effective
forces, but a deadly threat to a battered and weaponless
DreamStar.
150 DALE BROWN
But he had no choice. If he couldn't have DreamStar, better
to die in her cockpit trying to deliver her to the Soviet Union
than let the Americans mothball her while they continued to
perfect their research into the ANTARES interface. Were there
other areas he could infiltrate, other research programs whose
information could be vital to the security of the Soviet Union?
Was there any other program that, if he lived, he could collect
information on as valuable or as rare as his DreamStar? His?
Yes, damn it, his . . .
The answer to all was no. Strangely, coming to that grim
conclusion put him at ease, allowing him slowly to relax his
knotted muscles and control his adrenaline-fired pulse and
breathing.
"Do you want to live forever, Andrei Ivanschichin Marak-
lov?" James said into his face mask. And with that he felt his
body go totally relaxed, almost limp, held upright only by the
tight body harness that secured him.to DreamStar's ejection seat.
it was the first time in some ten years that he had spoken his
given name. The words surprised him-it was such a totally
Russian name. And right now he liked it, was proud of it. "Ken-
neth Francis James" sounded weak. He would not use it again.
He did not realize, though, that it had taken two hours for
him to speak his Russian name to himself. Without warning the
ANTARES interface had taken hold. He was once again one
with DreamStar . . .
Patrick McLanahan could only stare. General Brad Elliott and
Hal Briggs couldn't speak. Applause broke out from somewhere
behind them as they stared at a reincarnation.
The doors to Hangar Three of the HAWC research flight line
were opened, and a yellow "mule" tow-tractor slowly chugged
out of the massive structure. The mule pulled a hulking dark
beast from its lair, an aircraft so large that it seemed to blot out
the faint glow of the rising sun on the horizon. It seemed to take
forever to move the giant machine from the hangar, but soon
there it was, sitting on the concrete ramp like a winged black
dragon.
" 'Whenever science makes a discovery, the devil grabs it,' "
Angelina Pereira quoted. McLanahan and Briggs turned toward
her. "Alan Valentine," she added.
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 151
"Whoever ... but that's one mean-lookin' mother, " Briggs
said.
On-nack began his walkaround inspection of the Megafortress
Plus, General Elliott and other members of the crew following.
Actually Ormack and the engineers had already completed an
extensive walkaround hours earlier before the crew briefing, and
all items of the before-engine-start checklist had already been
performed by ground crewmen and technicians. But no matter
who performed the inspection, or when, Ormack could not resist
the urge to do one last visual inspection before climbing aboard-
as much a ritual as a race car driver's kicking the tires of his car
or a marksman's rubbing the front sight of his rifle.
Elliott pointed at the Old Dog. "I still can't believe what I'm
seeing," he said to Ormack, once its copilot. What he was
pointing at was the most radical change in the Old Dog's ap-
pearance-her huge wings. Instead of drooping in a huge down-
ward curve from the fuselage to the wingtips, the wings stood
straight out, tall and proud instead of arched and aged-looking.
"The newest in composite materials went into her," Ormack
said. "We replaced the main wing spar, the spine, the tailplane
spars and other skeletal components with fibersteel beams, the
largest and thickest composite structures ever cast. I remember
being called out to the hangar in Alaska when they put the wings
back on-it looked like a damn optical illusion, those twenty-
ton wings sticking straight out like that. They sagged when we
filled them up with fifty tons of fuel, though-sagged a grand
total of two inches. We used to be able to look into the outboard
engines just by standing on tiptoes-now, they're all so high off
the ground we need a ladder to look into them. The takeoff
distance has decreased by thirty percent. It used to take forever
for the Buff to lift off because those huge drooping wings would
'take off' first, leaving the fuselage still rolling on the ground.
No more, Brad. When this beast hits takeoff speed, it's airborne.
Period. "
Ormack continued the walkaround inspection, pointing out
various new changes in the huge bomber. "Only two AIM-120
Scorpion missiles on this flight, but Carter's Dog Zero Two can
take up to ten on each wing now, instead of only the six we had
on our first mission-that's twenty air-to-air missiles total, the
same as on five F-15 fighters. And computer-controlled fuel
management helps us avoid the fuel problems we had on our last
152 DALE BROWN
flight when damage forced us out of the automatic mode. No
more wing spoilers that dragged in the slipstream for aircraft
control and wasted so much energy. Now we use engine-bleed
air-thrusters on the wings for roll control. It allows us much
faster turn control, eliminates adverse yaw."
He pointed at the Old Dog's wingtip, which had a long,
pointed oblong device trailing aft from the wingtip. "No more
twin tip-tanks on this baby. With fibersteel construction we were
able to build large single jettisonable fuel tanks with greater
capacity that are lighter, stronger and more aerodynamic than
the twin tanks. We've also taken off the wingtip wheels-even
fully fueled there's no danger of these wingtips ever striking
ground. Another weight saving."
Hal Briggs turned to On-nack. "General, someone might think
you're a lieutenant on his cherry ride." As he spoke Briggs
glanced over Ormack's shoulder down the flight line and, by
force of habit, checked the guard posts.
"I have to admit, I get clutched every time I see this beast,"
/>
Ormack said. "I've seen her blown up, crashed, broken, shot
up, cut up, disassembled, and now I've seen her better than
before. A regular phoenix, this bird."
They walked around to the bomb bay and peered inside at the
mix of glide-missiles and laser-guided smart bombs. "If this
flight is a success," General Elliott said, "this could be the
beginning of a new day for the B-52 bomber. Even with all one
hundred B-I Excalibur bombers operational and the first B-2
Panther Stealth bomber squadron finally operational, the anti-
air, standoff and border penetration capabilities of the Megafor-
tress Plus may mean the refitting and reactivation of all the
G-model B-52s that were retired last year. A few squadrons of
B-52 Megafortress Plus bombers could fly along with the strike
bombers, clear a path for them and then return to be used in
reserve or for other long-range strike missions. It's a new con-
cept-armed flying battleship escorts for strategic bombers."
Hal Briggs listened but his attention was continually drawn to
the guard posts down the flight line. Everything appeared nor-
mal, but something somewhere was out of place . . .
At first Briggs dismissed the feelings. All six high-security
hangars had the proper guards stationed around them-six
V-100 Commando assault cars positioned properly. Straining, he
could make out all six guards at their posts, a few standing to
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 153
watch the crowd around the B-52, a few sitting in their V-100s.
A roving patrol in an M113 Armadillo assault vehicle was mov-
ing up and down the center of the ramp, cruising slowly, a cou-
ple of SPs hanging out of the gun turret on the roof to watch the
Megafortress roll out. They had taken the twenty-millimeter ma-
chine gun off its mount so two guys could squeeze up through
the roof to get a better look-he'd have. to get on their case for
that. But overall, it appeared normal. So what was it . . . ?
"Hal?" McLanahan had stepped beside the security police
commander and was scanning the flight line with him. "Prob-
lem? "
Hal noticed that Ormack, Elliott, Khan and Wendelstat had
moved off toward.the tail; he and McLanahan were alone beside
the Old Dog's bomb bay. "No . . . nothing. I'm gonna chew
some butt-those guys rubber-neckin' in the Armadillo over
there." He looked at the colonel. "Where you going?"
"Take a ride out to the range, I think. Get a good seat near
the ground target before the fireworks start. I was going to ask
if . . . "
But Briggs wasn't listening; he was staring down the flight
line toward Hangar Five, Sergeant Rey Jacinto's post. He was
still sitting in his V- 100, doors closed. He wasn't asleep-Jacinto
was too good for that, and besides, Briggs could see him moving
around inside . . .
"Hal? What about it? Can I get a ride out to the range?"
. . . but Jacinto was a high-tech aircraft freak. He knew all
there was to know, all he was allowed to know, about the B-52
Megafortress Plus and the XF-34A DreamStar. He would,
though, gladly give his right nut to get a look at either bird up
close. Jacinto had guarded Hangar Three before, but he had
never been inside . . .
"He's never seen the Old Dog. before," Briggs mumbled.
'What?
"One of my troops. Jacinto .
"Rey? Yeah, nice guy. You keep on bouncing back his re-
quests to take a peek at DreamStar. You ought to let him before
they mothball her. Is he on duty this morning?"
"Hangar Five."
McLanahan squinted through the semi-darkness toward
DreamStar's hangar. "I don't see him."
"He's in the Commando."
154 DALE BROWN
McLanahan grunted his surprise. "Looking out those tiny
gunport windows? Get those guys in the Rover to relieve him on
his post and have him come take a look at the Megafortress. I
know he's been itching to get a look at her too."
"Yeah, right." Briggs walked off toward his sedan. Patrick
was about to repeat his request for a ride out to the bombing
range but changed his mind-Briggs, he decided, must have a
million things on his mind.
As he walked to his car Hal Briggs decided McLanahan was
right. Jacinto had wanted to get a look at the Megafortress Plus
and DreamStar for years. Now, with the huge bomber not three
hundred yards away, Jacinto was sitting locked up in his V-100,
watching through tiny gunports when he could be outside watch-
ing it. Why? Besides, Jacinto was a well-known roamer. He
couldn't stand being cooped up in a Commando for more than
a few minutes.
It was then that Briggs noticed the blue Stepvan half-hidden
from view beside Hangar Five. He also noticed that the doors
to Hangar Five were open and that a missile-carrying trailer was
parked inside. And he saw the orange safety cones arranged
outside the hangar-MMS, or Munitions Maintenance Squad-
ron, was already downloading weapons from DreamStar. They
were four hours early . . .
Briggs pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt and set the chan-
nel for security control. "Red Man, this is Hotel."
"Go ahead, Hotel."
Orinack had finished his walkaround, and he, Carter and El-
liott were shaking hands. Visitors began filing into buses to take
them off the flight line. The crew of the Megafortress was climb-
ing up the belly hatch into the massive bomber.
. Briggs keyed the mike button: "Status check of Foxtrot
posts. "
Last status check one-five minutes ago reports all secure.
Last Rover check zero-one minutes ago reports all secure."
Copy. Break. Rover Nine, this is Hotel. Report to Five Fox-
trot for relief. He wants to get a look at the monster up close.
Five Foxtrot, you copy?"
Lovyyev, alias Airman Crowe, nearly pulled the trigger of his
M-16 in panic when he heard his call sign over the security net.
He was about to pick up the microphone and say something
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 155
when he heard, "Break. Hotel, this is Rover Nine. Job Control
has requested us to assist in clearing the flight line. We. are
moving into position. Please advise. Over."
Lovyyev's throat was stone dry. He didn't dare try to speak.
Nothing would come out. Should he walk out of the car? Wave?
Should he do anything ... ?
Briggs stared at the armored car in front of Hangar Five. Jacinto
sure was acting strange. Normally he would have jumped at the
opportunity to check out any aircraft, from an old Piper Cub to
the hypersonic spaceplane. He was being oddly reticent this
morning. Well, tough. He was too late.
"Rover Nine, continue to clear the flight line. Five Foxtrot,
sorry, maybe some other time."
Lovyyev still kept away from the mike button. He turned and
saw KGB veteran Gekky Orlov, alias Sergeant Howard, standing
inside the hangar, his M-16 out of sight, watching him. He knew
Orlov had a tiny earpiece radio set to
that security-net frequency.
He was looking hard at him, trying to get him to calm down.
Orlov could tell without seeing him that Lovyyev was ready to
collapse. Don't key that microphone, be silent . . .
No reply. Strange.
A crew chief was hauling a huge Halon fire bottle over to the
left inboard engine pylon and several of his assistants were po-
sitioning themselves around the B-52 to act as safety observers
for this engine start. Briggs suddenly found himself in the mid-
dle. He got inside his sedan, closed the windows against the
sound of external power carts being started, switched on the
engine, and headed for the security checkpoint to watch the taxi
and takeoff.
But as the first dull roar of the number four engine began to
invade the early morning air, Briggs stopped the car just short
of the checkpoint. He was perhaps four hundred yards from
Hangar Five. Still no sign of Jacinto. Hal picked up his car
microphone. "Five Foxtrot, this is Hotel. How copy?" No re-
ly. "Five Foxtrot, this is Hotel. Come in. Over."
There may have been a reply but Briggs couldn't hear it over
the steady scream of the eight turbofan engines on the massive
B-52 bomber. The crew was running through their pre-takeoff
156 DALE BROWN
equipment checks. The three-thousand-watt taxi lights on the
front landing gear trucks flashed insistently at him, indicating
that the B-52s attack radar was on. Briggs was parked right in
front of the bomber. He started his car and moved away from
the B-52s front quarter.
The pre-takeoff checks were running quietly. As Hal Briggs
continued to try to raise Five Foxtrot, the crew chief ran in front
of the Megafortress Plus with two lighted- wands, and using hand
signals ordered his assistants to pull the B-52s wheel chocks.
Hal considered cruising over to the guard post but it was too
late. The crew chief swirled his wands in the air, a signal to
Ormack and Khan in the cockpit that they were clear to run UP
their engines for taxi. The engines began a deafening roar and