by Dale Brown
"Radar missile armed. "
"Launch radar missile . . . now.
Once again the radar-threat warning blared in Maraklov's head
but this time he was ready for it. It said that Cheetah was above
and behind him approximately six miles-a poor position to
launch an attack at low altitude. The threat-warning receiver
also did not indicate'that the Scorpion missile's own seeker-
head was tracking-which meant that the missile was getting
its guidance information only from Cheetah's radar. A signifi-
cant disadvantage in the milliseconds game they were now play-
ing.
Maraklov began a hard four-G inverted climb directly back
toward Cheetah, presenting his smallest radar cross-section to
the oncoming Scorpion missile, which corrected for the sudden
climb but could not complete the turn in time to avoid plowing
into the Sierra Madre mountains. ANTARES immediately
brought its cannon on-line and activated its attack radar to track
Cheetah in as it sped toward it.
watched in frustration as DreamStar dodged away from the
AIM-120 missile, but he was ready for the move. "Set attack-
mode air cannon. Arm cannon."
"Cannon armed . . . Warning, radar weapon tracking, twelve
o'clock. "
Powell touched the voice-command button. "All trackbreak-
ers on and transmit."
"Trackbreakers on and transmitting, " the computer acknowl-
edged as Cheetah's powerful internal jammers activated-the
jammers would keep DreamStar's cannon from maintaining a
lock-on. "I can't believe how fast he can get his guns on-line.
But he's gotta be out of smash . . . Hang on."
McLanahan needed no encouragement. pulled up into a
tight climb, rolled inverted only five hundred feet above ground
and again tried to line up on DreamStar.
DreamStar had easily locked onto Cheetah with the attack radar,
and Maraklov could now track it through its sudden climb. But
when DreamStar tried to follow Cheetah around to keep the guns
on him, ANTARES warned that he was approaching stall-speed.
DreamStar, which had not yet reached optimal flying speed so
early after takeoff, had used all its energy in its tight evasive
turn and its pitch-up to track Cheetah and had no power left to
continue to track him with the nose high in the air. DreamStar's
canards pushed the nose down, and with that the guns were
pulled off Cheetah.
226 DALE BROWN
Powell pushed Cheetah's nose earthward and on the downside
of the loop found himself lined up on DreamStar. He pushed on
the right rudder to slew Cheetah's nose to the right . . . no time
to get a radar lock . . . just squeeze the trigger, hoping for a
lucky hit.
"Altitude," Patrick shouted. "Pull up."
went to max afterburner and hauled back on the stick
with both hands. He was so fixed on the image of DreamStar
dead in his sights that he ignored the rocks and trees rushing UP
at him. Then he had to roll hard left to fly behind DreamStar to
avoid hitting him. After that hard turn Powell found himself per-
ilously close to stall speed and had no choice but to roll wings-
level at max afterburner and wait until he had regained speed.
"Dammit," McLanahan shouted, "you had him, You
could have nailed him-"
" This isn't no Cessna 152 we're fooling with, Patrick. He can
turn and attack faster than we can. He could have launched a
missile by now but he was only tracking us with guns-he never
got off a missile-track signal. Maybe that means he doesn't have
any missiles.
"Well, we're below half-ftiel right now. We need to tag him
and head back or we'll be walking to Nevada."
started a right turn back toward DreamStar. "Safe radar
missiles," he spoke into the voice-command computer. "Set
attack mode infrared missile."
"Infrared missile selected, warning, one missile remaining.
"I got a visual on him," Powell said. He touched the voice-
command button. "Attack radar standby. Infrared scanner op-
erate. "
"Attack radar standby. Infrared scanner on. " Immediately
the heat-seeking scanner locked onto DreamStar.
"He's just running," Powell said. "He's not jinking and jiv-
ing anymore. " To the voice-command computer he ordered,
"Slave infrared missile to infrared scanner."
The Sidewinder missile's seeker-head followed the azimuth
directions of Cheetah's scanner, but the missile did not indicate
a lock-on. "We need to get in closer .
"No," McLanahan said. "His tail IR scanner has a greater
range than our Sidewinder. Launch the Sidewinder in boresight
mode-it should lock onto him after launch."
"It's worth a try." It was easier than before for Powell to
align himself with DreamStar's tailpipe-Maraklov was indeed
driving straight and level, accelerating as fast as possible. When
he was aligned with DreamStar's rectangular exhaust Powell
commanded: "Infrared missile boresight."
"Infrared missile boresight, caution, no target lock. " The
missile would normally not launch unless it was tracking a tar-
get, but in boresight mode the missile could be launched straight
ahead and the infrared seeker could attempt to lock onto a target
while in flight; it also was a tricky technique used against slow-
moving targets to hit them outside the missile's optimal range.
It was not reliable because of the missile-seeker's narrow field
of view, but against hot targets that weren't maneuvering it was
at least a valid attack.
Powell hit the command button. "Launch."
"Warning, radar target lock, seven o'clock.
McLanahan strained again to search behind Cheetah's twin
tails. "TWo . . . no, four fighters, two flights of two, right be-
hind us. I can't see what they are but they're coming on fast-"
"I gotta bredk it off, Patrick-"
"No, stay on him, nail him-"
But even then it was too late. DreamStar had picked up the
same radar indications as Cheetah, and the advanced fighter had
made a hard break to the right and an even harder one up and
down to shake off the radar-lock by the advancing strangers. A
boresight missile-launch was impossible.
"Infrared missiles to safe. Set attack-mode radar missiles,"
Powell ordered.
"Two jets going high, two coming in," McLanahan said. "I
can't tell for sure but they look like . . . they're F-20s, Mexican
F-20s . . . "
"Warning, radar target lock, six o'clock .
yanked the stick hard night to stay with DreamStar, but
it had regained its lost speed and was pulling away, staying at
boulder level.
"They're still with us," McLanahan said. "Can you get a
shot off anyway?"
"I think so . . . here we go .
"Warning, radar missile lock. A missile was in flight, head-
ing for them . . .
hit the voice-command button on his stick. "Chaff right."
228 DALE BROWN
The computer ejected two bundles of radar-decoying chaff from
/> the right ejector rack as yanked Cheetah into a hard left
bank, pulling on the stick until the computer issued a stall-
warning message.
No missile, " McLanahan called out, straining his head up
out of the cockpit against the G-forces pushing him into his seat.
:'Didn't see a missile .
'They faked us out," said, "they wanted to get our
attention-
"Damn it, get back on DreamStar."
Powell began a hard right turn back toward DreamStar, but
as he rolled out of the turn they heard: "American F-15 fighter,
this is Mexican Air Force. You are directed to follow me at
once.
Goddanin, there he is, left wing." The F-20 Tigershark, the
single-engine, high-tech version of the American F-5F Tiger
fighter, was in loose route formation off Cheetah's left wingtip.
" Number two is behind us," McLanahan said. "Stay on
DreamStar." He switched to the VHF GUARD international
emergency frequency. "Mexican Air Force, this is the F-15
Storm One. We are on an authorized search mission for Storm
Two, which is at our one o'clock position. We have permission
from your government to pursue and destroy this aircraft. Over.
So he lied a little.
to , 'We have been advised that no foreign aircraft has permission
enter Mexican airspace. We will destroy both if you do not
follow us immediately."
The XF-34 Storm Two is an experimental aircraft. It's also
lethal as hell. We will pursue and destroy it. Stay clear."
"No. Follow me or you will be shot down." The F-20 on
Cheetah's left wing dropped back a few yards and began a climb-
ing left turn.
"Warning, radar target lock, six o'clock. " The F-20 follow-
ing behind them had activated its tracking radar again. At this
distance he could hardly miss . . .
:'I'm open to suggestions, Colonel," deadpanned.
'DreamStar's moved out to ten miles," McLanahan said,
checking his radar. "Those other two Mexicans are chasing him
but it's no contest, he's pulling away-"
"I've got to follow," said, gently easing into a left bank.
That guy behind me will hose us if I don't."
"Damn it, we had him ... he was so close ... can you get
away from these guys?"
"Sure. This guy ahead of us is so sloppy I can fill him full of
holes right now, and I think I can et away from the guy on our
tail. But then what? We're into our fuel reserves as it is. After
we lose these guys we'll need afterburner the whole way back
just to get within missile range of DreamStar, and then the best
we got is a tail-chase until we run out of gas."
"So do it .
"If that's what you really want .
"What the hell does that mean .
"That I think you better think pretty damn hard about it. If
you try to chase down DreamStar from here we won't make it
home. You'll risk Cheetah for a fifty-fifty chance of downing
DreamStar. You've already violated Mexican air space and will
take heat for that, but if you don't bring back Cheetah you're
guaranteeing yourself a Big Chicken Dinner-"
"Cheetah was my responsibility. If I let James get away . . .
we all go down the tubes. As long as there's a chance I'm not
going to let this guy go."
"You've done everything you could. Like they say, there's a
time to chase and a time to get the hell out of Dodge. I suggest
we boogie."
McLanahan hesitated. rolled out behind the lead F-20
and reduced power slightly. The leader reduced his power to
move beside Cheetah.
tried the last gambit he could think of to get Patrick back
to reality . "I don't love chasing DreamStar over Mexico with
two chilibeans on my tail and sucking fumes but I can live with
it. But you . . . you have something worth more than DreamStar
back in a hospital in Vegas. Let's get back and go after him
another day."
It worked. Watching the Mexican F-20 off their left wing, with
one speedbrake raised to slow himself down, McLanahan real-
ized JC. was right. He'd taken an incredible chance and violated
a few dozen rules by coming this far. He and had almost
got James . . . they'd done everything they could . "There's
going to be a next time," he muttered. "Bet on it.
added: "The Russians don't have DreamStar yet-a Rus-
sian has it and he's still ten thousand miles from home."
"So we've still got these Mexican guys." He strained to search
230 DALE BROWN
behind Cheetah. "Number two's back there right between the
tails.
"No offense to the Mexican Air Force," said, "but I'll
bet these bozos never intercepted anything but a soccer ball. The
lead's got his power way back waiting for us, and his wingman's
right in our jet-wash. They're both out of position. Hang on."
jerked the throttles to idle and popped Cheetah's big
speedbreak. The lead F-20 noticed the sudden power reduction
and, not realizing how slow he was already going, pulled back
his power even more. On the verge of a stall, he had no choice
but to scissor left and fall away to regain his lost airspeed. Mean-
while, the number two F-20, not watching Cheetah and dis-
tracted by his leader's sudden departure, never tried to slow
down. He yanked his stick hard-right just in time to avoid slam-
ming into Cheetah's tail, and had to spin away. At that moment
retracted the speedbrake, went into full power and began
to accelerate and climb away from the Mexican interceptors.
McLanahan was staring out the back of the large bubble can-
opy. "They're still below us . . . not climbing yet . . . "
"Warning, radar search, six o'clock, " from the computer.
"They dropped from radar track to search," said. "Are
they getting closer?"
"I can't see them, they've dropped back."
"American F- 15, this is Mexican Air Force. Follow us to base
immediately. Acknowledge. "
shut off the VHF GUARD channel.
"I don't think we can make it," McLanahan said a few min-
utes later, using the computer to check their fuel status. "We'll
have to divert to a Mexican airport after all. "
"We'll start a climb and then use an idle descent into a di-
version base," said, gently pulling back on the stick and
starting a shallow climb. "Oh, well," he sighed, "I haven't
been in a Mexican jail since high school. It'll be like old times."
"Sorry I got you into this, I'm going to waste that son-
ofabitch if I have to walk back to Nicaragua or Colombia or
Bolivia or wherever he's headed--
Suddenly the number one radio, still set to the refueling tank-
er's operating frequency, crackled to life: "Storm One, this is
Cardinal Three-Seven. Over."
"I got it," McLanahan said. On the radio he replied: "Car-
dinal Three-Seven, this is Storm One. Over."
"Storm One, this is Cardinal. We're Sun Devil KC-135 out
of Phoenix-Sky Harbor Airport, one hundred and sixty-first Air
Refueling Group, Arizona Air National Guard. Set beacon code
sev
enty-four, we've got thirty-one. We're at flight level two-niner
zero, orbiting fifty miles south of Tucson near Nogales. What's
your situation? Over.
"Air-to-air TACAN beacon? I haven't used that since I was a
butter-bar." checked the distance readout. "He's still out
of ran e, not picking him up yet."
"Cardinal, Storm One is approximately one hundred miles
southwest of Chihuahua. Fuel situation critical. We were about
to divert to Chihuahua for emergency refueling. Over."
"Copy that, Storm. I guess your boss wants you back real
bad. We've been ordered to . . . how should I put it? ... have
a catastrophic navigation failure and come and get you. As I
speak, our autopilot is mysteriously taking us south across the
border." A pause, then: "Air-to-air TACAN shows two hundred
miles, Storm. Can you make it?"
"It'll be close," McLanahan said.
"We may have visitors," added. "We left a couple sore-
head Mexican F-20s in our dust."
"They should have gotten word by now that you're on an
authorized sortie," the crewman replied. "Your boss tells us
that they finally authorized your overflight. But that's not going
to help you much. I hope you got what you came for, boys-I
doubt there are going to be any high fives waiting for you."
"No," McLanahan said, "we didn't get what we came for.
Not this time .
Sebaco Military Airbase, Nicaragua
Thursday, 18 June 1996, 0645 CDT (0745 EDT)
ANDREI MARAKLOV AWOKE with a start but didn't try to get up-
his muscles quivered with the slightest hint of exertion. He was
incredibly thirsty. Beads of sweat rolled down from his eye-
brows, and the dirt and salt stung his eyes.
He opened his eyes. He was lying face down on a firin mat-
tress, his face buried in stiff white sheets. His arms were by his
side. Judging by feel, he was only wearing a pair of briefs.
Suddenly he felt a cool sponge touch the back of his neck,
and a young female voice said in a soft voice, "Dobrahye otrah,
tovarisch Polkovnik.
He had prepared himself for this, ever since deciding to take
DreamStar out of the United States. In hesitant, poorly phrased
Russian, he replied, "Vi gahvahretye pah angleyski? "