Day of the Cheetah

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Day of the Cheetah Page 70

by Dale Brown


  move that McLanahan made after that. Before he knew it Chee-

  tah had banked up on its right wing and was turning directly

  into DrearnStar on a collision course.

  Maraklov's first decision was to roll with Cheetah and out-

  turn him, but the radar quickly informed him that he had no

  room to bank away from the sudden roll-Cheetah was so close

  that if DreamStar went into a right bank his left wingtip would

  certainly strike Cheetah's right wing. Marakl6v was near-

  transfixed by the sight of Cheetah swooping in on him. He had

  no place to run. Only a few yards remaining . . .

  Suddenly the pain that had been with him ever since his suc-

  cessful interface with ANTARES returned full-force. It was so

  intense it nearly blinded him. His shoulder throbbed, the pain

  seemed to spread out across his entire body, intensifying the

  electrical shock generated by the metallic flight suit. The head-

  ache that had seemed to go away when he attacked Cheetah was

  now like a red-hot thing buried in his head. He knew he did not

  black out-his seat was still upright and he was not being force-

  fed blasts of oxygen-but he was out of control as he tried to

  figure a way to escape Cheetah's attack.

  At some point during the maneuver ANTARES took control.

  The computer commanded full down deflection on the nose ca-

  nards, full downward thrust from the vectored-thrust nozzle, full

  adverse pitch on the flap strakes in the tail. The effect was a

  rapid elevator zero-pitch descent at negative seven Gs, almost

  486 DALE BROWN

  at the structural limit of DreamStar's airframe and, more im-

  portant, twice the normal safe negative-G limit of the human

  body. Cheetah's right wingtip missed DreamStar's bubble can-

  opy by a few yards-if the canopy had been made of anything

  but ultra-strong polymer plastics it would have shattered from

  the hurricane-like force from Cheetah's wingtip vortices.

  Maraklov, already partially incapacitated by the sudden in-

  tense sheets of pain rolling across his body, was on the verge of

  unconsciousness from the negative Gs. He was quickly past the

  red-out stage, where blood was forced up into his brain. Blood

  vessels burst in his eyeballs and nostrils, and one eardrum ex-

  ploded. The computer sensed Maraklov's semi-conscious state,

  immediately reclined his ejection seat and shot pure oxygen into

  his face mask. But the increased pressure in his face only forced

  blood from his n-o-strils back into his throat, nearly drowning

  him.

  Once DreamStar's all-aspect radar detected that Cheetah had

  rolled well clear, it discontinued the hard horizontal descent,

  selected full afterburner and began a hard climb up to a safer

  altitude. But DreamStar was flying on full-computer control as

  Maraklov fought for consciousness. The pain had suddenly sub-

  sided, but Maraklov was still trying to recover from the effects

  of the negative Gs as DreamStar zoomed to thirty thousand feet,

  then leveled off.

  ANTARES performed a systems self-test and prepared to is-

  sue an all-systems-nominal report-as soon as Maraklov re-

  gained full consciousness.

  The system self-test never included the pilot.

  "Colonel, what the hell are you doing? " Preston called out.

  "Recover, dammit, recover."

  McLanahan immediately let up on the stick pressure, allowing

  Cheetah's automatic roll-and-yaw damping mechanisms slow the

  roll rate. When he firmly saw which way his roll was going, he

  eased in left-stick force and rolled Cheetah wingslevel.

  "Where is he, Marcia? Where did he go?"

  She was still shaken from the sudden maneuver but quickly

  pulled herself together. "God, what a ride. I don't see him any-

  where.

  "I've gotta risk using the radar." He hit the voice-command

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 487

  button while continuing to search the skies around Cheetah.

  "Radar, search, transmit, voice warning."

  "Attack radar transmit, " the computer replied. "Voice warn-

  ing activated. Fifty mile range selected, no targets. "

  "Get some altitude back," Preston said. "He had the upper

  hand when he got above you. You can use your power more

  effectively if you stay above him."

  He began a rapid climb. "But remember, DreamStar is a new

  kind of fighter. It's hard to explain-it took years to figure

  it out and months to explain it to me. There's only one way to

  get him, and I just showed it works."

  "By almost killing us? By pulling a kamikaze on him? If that's

  how we're going to play we might as well get out-"

  The computerized voice cut in: "Target, range twenty miles,

  bearing ten left.

  "There he is," Preston called out. "Eleven o'clock high,

  straight and level." -

  Tally ho. I'm going for a shot." He hit the voice-command

  button. "Radar target designate . - . " The blinking circle-aiming

  cursor appeared on the windscreen, superimposed on DreamStar

  as the only radar target in range. "Now."

  'Radar lock. " McLanahan hit the missile-launch button and

  watched as one of the AIM-120 Scorpion missiles streaked out

  from underneath the fuselage toward its target.

  "Missile's tracking by itself," Preston said, scanning her

  weapons indications. The Scorpion missile needed guidance

  from its launch aircraft only until its own on-board radar locked

  onto the target. Then the carrier aircraft could disengage and

  look for other targets. "Try a left turn, get around behind him

  in case he gets past the missile."

  "He'll get past it-guaranteed," McLanahan said. To the

  computer: "Select radar missile. Arm missile."

  "Warning, radar missile armed. " He hit the launch button

  and a second Scorpion missile streaked out.

  DreamStar abruptly heeled over to the right, making a turn so

  tight that the Scorpion missile's automatic proximity detonation

  missed by over a hundred feet-the proximity detonation circuits

  could not keep up with DreamStar's remarkably fast jink.

  McLanahan watched, transfixed, as DreamStar headed directly

  down at Cheetah, rapidly closing the distance even before his

  AIM-120 medium-range missile left the rails. Shaking himself,

  488 DALE BROWN

  McLanahan banked hard right and up, selected zone-five full

  afterburner, trying to get underneath DreamStar, spoil his aim

  and get out of the way before Maraklov could finish his sudden

  attack.

  Maraklov had recovered from the effects of negative Gs just in

  time to receive the new warning of radar lock-on and missile

  uplink-a Scorpion missile was in flight. This time there was no

  pain-in an instant Cheetah's location was plotted, its direction

  and all three of its axis velocities were recorded and assimilated

  and a counter-offensive move and several alternate maneuvers

  processed. He selected the first choice a fraction of a second

  later. It had been timed perfectly, and the missile rushed well

  past DreamStar without detonating until it had passed out of
>
  lethal range.

  In the same instant ANTARES had selected an AA-" infrared-

  guided missile and had just received a lock-on signal from the

  missile's seeker-head when a new threat was detected-a second

  missile in flight from Cheetah. A moment later he saw Cheetah

  head straight for him, chewing up the distance. Now two threats

  were closing on him-the second Scorpion missile and Cheetah

  itself, fast approaching optimal cannon range.

  ANTARES commanded the AA-" to launch. At the same

  time it made a tight right roll followed by a hard break, turning

  in a tight circle to align once again with Cheetah.

  "Missile launch! Dead ahead!"

  McLanahan hit the voice-command button. "Chaff. Flare.

  As the radar and infrared decoys ejected off into space, he jerked

  the control stick right, descended a few hundred feet, then lit

  the afterburners and pulled up. But not fast enough. DreamStar's

  AA-" missile followed Cheetah's turn and descent, then deto-

  nated its ninety-pound warhead just as McLanahan began to hard

  six-G pull. The missile detonated ten feet to the right and slightl

  aft of the right engine, piercing the engine case and sendin

  9

  showers of metal and compressor blades in all directions.

  But at the same time ANTARES detected Cheetah's second

  Scorpion missile still in flight-the two or three seconds it had

  taken to launch the jury-rigged Soviet missile gave the big, high-

  speed AIM-120 missile time to lock on and reach full speed.

  The all-aspect radar detected the missile still closing fast.

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 489

  The radar range to Cheetah's second missile turned into a

  high-pitched squeal of warning, transmitted directly to Marak-

  lov's already exhausted brain. ANTARES had no choice but to

  evade the missile-DreamStar's jammers' ere ineffective against

  Cheetah's radar or the Scorpion missde'swon-board radar-they

  had reprogrammed the AIM-120's on-board radar to a different

  frequency outside DreamStar's known jammer-range in antici-

  pation of this fight-and DreamStar could not continue the right

  turn to pursue Cheetah with the missile closing in.

  With Maraklov allowing ANTARES now to select the fighter's

  maneuvers and counter-maneuvers, ANTARES reversed its di-

  rection of flight, went to full afterburner, and aimed its nose

  right at the missile, presenting its lowest radar cross-section. At

  the last possible moment DreamStar jinked upward hard ...

  and the missile passed underneath.

  '.'Engine fire on the right," Preston called out. McLanahan

  yanked the right throttle to idle, lifted it out of its idle detent

  and moved it to cut-off, then hit the voice-command switch:

  "Right engine fire, execute." The computer commanded the

  right-engine fuel valves and supply lines closed and fire retar-

  dant sprayed inside the engine compartment.

  "I'm showing fuel cutoff and engine fire light out," Preston

  said. She turned in her seat, scanning the area for damage. "We

  might have a fuel leak on the aft body tank. The smoke is clear-

  ing.

  "Where's DreamStar? Is he behind us?"

  Preston scanned the skies, expecting to see that unreal plane

  diving out of nowhere with guns blazing. But it was nowhere to

  be seen. "I can't see him."

  "I'm getting some altitude. Power coming back to mil,"

  McLanahan said. With an engine fire and the potential of more

  damage in the left engine casing, the use of afterburner was

  unwise exce in an emergency. "I've still got full flight con-

  Pt

  trol." The engines were close enough together on the F-15 so

  that single-engine handling was not a problem, and the vectored-

  thrust nozzles, mission-adaptive wings, and canards would com-

  pensate for the loss of rudder control and the asymmetric thrust.

  "Airspeed's down below five hundred knots," Preston said,

  continuing to search for DreaniStar. "And you're hardly climb-

  490 DAIE BROWN

  ing. We've had it, we don't have the power to even consider

  dogfighting with him any more."

  "I'm not giving up. Listen, something's happening here. If

  Maraklov was flying at one hundred percent we'd be dog meat by

  "

  now. He's not engaging, I think maybe he's reached his limit ...

  Wishful thinking ... ? He began a turn back in the opposite

  direction and activated the air-to-air attack radar.

  Immediately the computer reported, "Radar target, range

  twelve miles, bearing fight.

  He hit the voice-command button: "Select radar missile.

  Launch missile. Launch missile."

  The pain that racked Maraklov's body was constant now, rolling

  across every nerve ending like a brush fire out of control. The

  numbness in his left shoulder spread to his left arm and elbow-

  it was the first time in two years that Maraklov ever noticed

  anything about his appendages while flying under the neural-

  computer interface system. The sensory dichotomy created mo-

  mentary confusion. He became aware of still more problems

  with his body-he was incredibly thirsty, weak as a kitten. He

  was aware of the taste of blood-he could even feel blood drip-

  ping down the side of his head and pooling inside his oxygen

  mask. Taste? Feel? These sensations were as foreign to him while

  under ANTARES as mental radar images had been when he first

  saw one.

  At the same time, ANTARES was warning him about a hun-

  dred other things. Cheetah was in a left turn, heading back for

  him. Fuel state was critical-less than twenty minutes fuel left,

  without reserves. Oxygen was low. That last Scorpion missile's

  miss was not altogether harmless-ANTARES was now report-

  ing minor ventral fin actuator damage and a few sectors of the

  ventral superconducting radar arrays malfunctioning.

  It was time to destroy Cheetah, once and for all.

  But DreamStar had barely completed its turn back toward

  Cheetah when more missiles were detected in flight. And now

  they were in a head-on engagement, with one, then two missiles

  in flight. Maraklov began a series of high-speed random, maneu-

  vers, trying to make the missiles swing farther and farther away

  on each turn. At the same time he moved farther and farther

  from Cheetah, getting a few more yards of lateral separation,

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 491

  waiting for the moment to begin a lead turn into the F- 15 to start

  his gun pass.

  This time, Maraklov thought, he could not miss. McLanahan

  had become lazy-never go head-to-head with his DreamStar.

  "Scorpion missile tracking ... stay with him, Patrick, he's get-

  ting outside you

  McLanahan blinked beads of sweat out of his eyes as he

  nudged the control stick farther right toward Cheetah. He had a

  steady JOKER indication on the heads-up display-less than fif-

  teen minutes of fuel remaining, enough to get him back to La

  Cieba or Puerto Lernpira. If he continued to fight much longer

  the number of possible landing sites, ii Honduras or Panama,


  would steadily decrease to zero until he would be forced to put

  down somewhere in Costa Rica.

  "Patrick, watch it," Preston called out, "he's turni ng in on

  you-"

  He had let his mind drift off at the worst possible moment.

  That momentary lapse of concentration had allowed DreamStar

  to get the angle on him. Maraklov was now bearing in on Chee-

  tah from the right side. A turn in either direction would expose

  himself even more to a cannon attack.

  He lit the left afterburner and pulled Cheetah up into a hard

  climb. Preston hung from the handlebars in the back seat, strain-

  ing against the G-forces as she tried to keep DrearnStar in sight

  over her right shoulder.

  II Warning, missile launch, the computer threat-receiver

  blared. Then: "Warning, airspeed low. Stall warning. Stall

  warning. "

  "He's turned inside us. Missile launch. Get out of here."

  McLanahan hit the voice-command button: "Chaff . . .

  Flares," he grunted, forcing the words out from the pressure

  against his lungs. He saw the decoys-eject indications on the

  heads-up display.

  "Where is he?" he called out to Preston.

  "Five o'clock low, climbing with us. He's still coming

  McLanahan pulled back on the stick even harder, his neck

  and jaw muscles quivering against the pressure. He rolled in-

  verted, ejected more chaff and flares to decoy the missiles, then

  plunged Cheetah earthward. They were head-to-head once again,

  but this time they were fighting in the vertical, not the horizon-

  492 DALE BROWN

  tal-Cheetah was in a full-power descent, rapidly building air-

  speed, and DreamStar was in a screaming climb, heading right

  at him ...

  ANTARES adjusted each flight control surface and every pound

  of two-dimensional vectored thrust to keep Cheetah centered in

  its crosshairs. Measuring by DreamStar's precision millimeter-

  wave radar and calculating by computer several times a second,

  Maraklov commanded DreamStar to open fire seconds before

  McLanahan's finger even closed on his trigger. They were still

  almost two miles apart when DreamStar opened fire, dead on

 

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