Aboard Baker-Baker Two , over the Gulf of Aden
6 November 1997
2112
“TEN SECONDS TO TARGET POINT,” SAID SPIDERMAN.
“Roger that,” said Breanna. “Bay.”
“Bay,” said the copilot. The large doors at the rear of the fuselage swung open. A green light flashed in the heads-up display in front of Breanna; the sentinel buoy was ready to go.
She leaned on her stick, nudging the big aircraft onto her mark. Breanna had the option of letting the computer fly the Megafortress to the release point, but what was the point of that?
“Deploy,” she told the copilot as they hit their mark.
“Sentinel buoy is away,” said Spiderman as the bomb bay dispenser ejected the large cylinder.
Breanna snapped the Wisconsin upward and began a hard bank to the southeast, getting into position to launch Phoenix.
“You’re up, Commander,” she told Delaford.
“Piranha team is ready,” he said over the interphone.
“Thirty seconds to Piranha release point,” said Spiderman.
“Radar contact!” said Jackson Christian, who was operat -
SATAN’S TAIL
93
ing Baker-Baker’s AWACS-style radar, monitoring other aircraft. “Bogie at 322, one hundred miles. Identified now as a Chendu F-7M Fishbed, export Chinese fighter aircraft.
Might be Sudanese.”
“Pretty far from home if it is,” said Breanna.
“Can’t match it up otherwise,” said the sergeant. “Radar is definitely that type, which rules out one of the Ethiopian MiGs.”
“If it is from Sudan, he’s at the edge of his combat radius, if not beyond it,” said Breanna. “Keep tabs on him. Alert Colonel Bastian. Tell him we’re proceeding with launch.
Commander Delaford?”
“Ready.”
“Spiderman?”
“Counting down. We are at eleven seconds, ten …”
The Megafortress hit a turbulent layer of air as it came down closer to the water. The big aircraft shuddered, then responded sluggishly to the control inputs, her right wing fighting against Breanna’s stick. She leaned in the seat, as if her body might somehow transfer a bit of spin to the controls and the probe as they ejected it. This may actually have worked, for despite the buffeting, the computer recorded a bull’s-eye as Piranha hit the water. The probe shot beneath the waves, preprogrammed to dive to fifty feet. Breanna leveled off and Spiderman initiated their third countdown—the launch of a guidance buoy to control the Piranha.
DOWNSTAIRS ON THE FLIGHTHAWK CONTROL DECK, STARSHIP
watched Commander Delaford completing the diagnostic series on the sentry buoy. The first buoy they had dropped was basically an automated listening post, transmitting the same data sets as the Piranha probe. It sank itself twelve feet below the surface, using a thin filament antenna to send its data. Shaped more like a tangled ball of yarn, the antenna sent its signals through the Dreamland dedicated satellite system at regular intervals; it could also be tapped directly 94
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
by the Megafortresses. The signal could be detected, which was one of its few disadvantages, but none of the countries in the region were believed to have equipment sophisticated enough to do so.
“We’re two miles south of Barim Island,” said Delaford.
“Looking good.”
“Guidance buoy is in the water,” reported Spiderman over the Megafortress’s interphone, or intercom system. The buoy was used to control Piranha from the Megafortress; it had to be roughly fifty miles from the probe and no more than fifty from the aircraft.
“Roger that, thank you,” said Delaford.
Starship shifted around in his seat, trying to get comfortable. For the time being, his job was to back Delaford up, continuing to learn how to operate Piranha. They’d run the simulations on the flight over, and except for the fact that the Megafortress was moving, he couldn’t have told the difference.
“Initiating equipment calibration,” said Delaford. “Bree, we’re going to need you to stay close to the buoy until we’re ready.”
“Roger that,” said the Megafortress pilot. “Be advised we now have two aircraft ID’d as Sudanese F-7Ms that are on an intercept. They’ll be in our face in about two minutes.”
“I need five,” said Delaford.
“Acknowledged,” said Breanna. “You’ll have them.”
Aboard the Abner Read , Gulf of Aden
6 November 1997
2115
“LOOKS DEAD IN THE WATER, CAP,” SAID COMMANDER MAR-cum, handing back the starlight binoculars. “No sign of the pirates around anywhere.”
SATAN’S TAIL
95
Storm took the glasses but didn’t answer. The Abner Read had a pair of small decks that could be folded out of the superstructure on either side of the bridge—almost literally flying bridges, which were generally kept inside to prevent disturbing the radar profile. They were small and narrow, and weren’t high enough to afford much of a view—one of the drawbacks of the ship’s stealthy design.
“There’s only one way to find out what’s going on over there. We have to board her,” said Marcum.
Storm scanned the vessel one more time from bow to stern. The ship had clearly been fired on; there were cannon holes in the superstructure and the bridge appeared to have been gutted.
“I volunteer to lead the boarding party,” said Marcum.
“Only way we’re going to find out, Storm. The only way.”
“There’s no question we have to board the ship. But you can’t go.”
“I’d like to. You would if you were me.”
“No I wouldn’t,” said Storm. He shrugged, because it was an obvious lie. “Send Gordie to lead the team.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Marcum.
Aboard Baker-Baker Two , over the Gulf of Aden
2116
“SUDANESE F-7MS ON A DIRECT INTERCEPT, AT OUR ALTItude,” said Spiderman. “Twenty miles and closing. What do you think, Captain?”
“I think they’re going to run out of fuel halfway home,”
said Bree. “Obviously someone told them we were here. The other Megafortress is well south.”
The EB-52 design was not as stealthy as the F-117 or B-2, but it nonetheless presented a small radar profile to conventional radars such as those used by the F-7M.
96
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Opening the bomb bay doors increased it exponentially, but still, the F-7Ms had help from somewhere.
“About sixty seconds to intercept,” Spiderman said.
“Should I hail them?”
“No. They want to play chicken. Be ready with the ECMs and Stinger just in case.”
She altered her course slightly and rearranged her orbit so the Megafortress’s tail was in their face as they approached.
This wasn’t meant just as an insult: She wanted the Stinger defensive weapon ready in case the other pilots did something stupid.
“Going over our wings,” said Spiderman. His voice had gone up two octaves. “Ten seconds.”
“Boys will be boys,” said Breanna. She flicked on the interphone, talking to the rest of the crew. “Preparing evasive maneuvers. Check your restraints, and please keep your hands in the car at all times.”
“Twenty feet over us, both of them.”
“Assholes,” said Bree, pushing her stick to increase the separation.
Aboard the Wisconsin , over the Gulf of Aden
2119
“WE’RE OVER YOU, BAKER-BAKER,” SAID DOG. “HAWK ONE
has the MiGs in sight. No weapons radar at this point.”
“Affirmative. I think they just want to play tag.”
“Any hostile acts?” he asked.
“Negative, unless you want to call aggressive stupidity hostile.”
“Depends on the circumstances,” said Dog.
“Question in my mind is who told them we’re out here,”