Let's take a look-bandit, three o'clock, low. Break tight!"

He slammed the stick hard right. Cheetah executed a hard right full roll, then another half-roll until he could regain con- trol. When his eyes were adjusted after the spin, he saw DreamStar headed right at him, less than a hundred yards away, with its nose high in the air but tracking Cheetah's every move as if the two were mechanically linked. And in a way they were, now in more ways than one . . . He saw DreamStar's nose light up as he fired his cannon.

McLanahan pushed the stick full forward, sending Cheetah in a screaming dive. He released the back pressure almost imme- diately, but Cheetah wasn't pulling out.

"Pull up," he heard Preston yell. He hauled back on the stick. It did not move-it was as if Cheetah's controls were locked, which made McLanahan push or pull harder each time.

He realized that was the reason for the steep dive-the rigid side- stick control had no play, which automatically made him push even harder to try to move it. He zoomed Cheetah up into a climb, gaining two thousand feet in altitude but losing two hun- dred knots of precious air speed. Finally he leveled off and took a deep breath, the first one he remembered taking since the attack began.

483.

"He's right above us, still at ten thousand feed," Preston said. "Be careful dogfighting with this guy. He knew exactly which way we were going. Keep your speed up. That's your advantage.

He took a look at DreamStar's position once more. "I'm gD_ ing for a shot. Hang on. " He pulled back on the stick and aimed the nose at DreamStar, then waited for the radar-lock-on tone.

When he heard it he moved his right thumb over to the missile- launch button and pressed.

"Warning, min range inhibit, " the computer announced.

The AIM-120C Scorpion was too close to its target to arm its warhead, so the computer automatically overrode the launch command.

McLanahan slipped his right index finger down onto the can- non trigger, but just as he squeezed, DreamStar turned as if doing a pirouette in mid-air and dived so fast and so sharply that it virtually disappeared from sight.

"I see him," Preston said, grasping the back of her ejection seat to turn herself around so she could watch DreamStar. "Four ... five ... six o'clock, he's coming around on us. God, I've never seen a plane move so fast. "

Suddenly McLanahan and Preston felt a banging and shud- dering sound throughout Cheetah, as if a giant hand had grabbed the F- 15's entire tail section, held it fast and started shaking it back and forth. The laser-projection screen reported a half-dozen faults. "Right rudder actuator out, " he said. "Right radar warn- ing receiver and ECM antennas-looks like he shot off our right rudder. I I "Fox Four, at your six o'clock," they heard on the radio. It was a cold, monotonous, mechanical voice, as eerie as listening to strangers' faraway voices in a dark cave.

"What the hell is that?" Preston asked.

Nt's his," he told her. "His voice is computer-synthesized.

"He's right behind us, right between our tails."

"Who is in command of Cheetah?" the eerie voice said on the GUARD channel. "McLanahan? Elliott?"

Before McLanahan could reply, Preston called out, "He's right beside us-"

Patrick snapped his head around. DreamStar was precisely on Cheetah's right wing, flying in perfect formation. At first, a completely disoriented feeling came over him-this was like it 484 .

always had been, Cheetah in the lead, DreamStar on the wing. They had flown like this for months, talking over a maneuver, doing the maneuver, then fon-ning up as they repositioned themselves, cri- tiqued the previous maneuver's results and talked over the next one.

But this wasn't Dreamland, and that wasn't Ken James.

"Marcia, there's a satellite transceiver unit on your right rear panel. Ever use one before?"

"Yes, we have a larger version in the NSC office."

"Send a clear-text message to Storm Control and to the Joint Chiefs about our location. Tell them we found DreamStar in Costa Rica." On the emergency radio frequency he said, " Mar- aklov, I want you to land. I've been in contact with the Russian authorities. What you're doing isn't authorized even by yourgov- ernment. You've got the U. and the USSR both wanting your head on a platter. Give it up. "

"Colonel McLanahan, I will never give up DreamStarl" Mar- aklov replied. "I am ordering you to withdraw across the border immediately. Otherwise I will destroy Cheetah piece by piece before I put the final missile into her. Comply immediately."

"Maraklov, there's no place you can run. The KGB knows where your landing base in Costa Rica is, and pretty soon we'll know it too."

As he watched, DreamStar began to slip aft. "Patrick, he's moving behind us again," Preston called out.

This was it, Patrick thought. Ken James is going to shoot me out of the sky. He had no place to run. DreamStar already.

had an attack planned for every climb, descent and turn imagin- able . . . It was time to act . . .

No. JC. Powell's words came back full force . . . DreamStar does not play defense. Act unpredictably, force her into a defen- sive situation and take advantage of its programming deficiency to try to turn the tables- The computerized voice of the ANTARES computer cut in: "You have been warned, Colonel McLanahan. This is your last chance. I will open fire if you-"

He did not wait for the rest of Maraklov's warning. He yanked the throttles to idle. On the throttle-quadrant on the left Side- panel, a large guarded switch read REVERSE. McLanahan flicked the guard away, selected full-reverse thrust on the two-dimension vectored-thrust nozzles and cut in full military power. The rect- angular engine-exhaust nozzles reduced down to their smallest 485.

size, and steerable exhaust louvers over and underneath the en- gines opened, blowing the engine exhaust toward the nose. As the thrust came back to full power, Cheetah's airspeed was cut in half in a matter of seconds.

Cheetah's steel and titanium airframe shrieked, and the com- puterized stall and airframe overstress warning messages blasted in their helmets. McLanahan's and Preston's bodies were thrown forward against their shoulder harnesses. Struggling against the G-forces, he waited until he was abeam DreamStar again, then yanked the control stick over, and rolled right into Dream- Star . . .

Even if the ANTARES computer had not warned Maraklov of Cheetah's sudden decrease in airspeed, he had seen Cheetah's engine exhaust nozzles snap closed and the ventral louvers open, and had time to react. What he wasn't expecting was the suicide- 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 .

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 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 .

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.

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, 491.