Patrick hit a switch, and the faint hum of the big gyrostabilized video camera mounted on Cheetah's spine could be heard. "Ca- mera's slaved on DreamStar, ," he said. "Don't lose him."

"A cold day in hell before any machine can outrun me."

They saw DreamStar taxi a few feet forward just ahead of Cheetah, until the tip of DreamStar's forward-swept right wing- tip was just cutting into JC.'s view of Ken James.

"Comin' up," said. He brought the throttles forward, keeping his toes on the brakes. Cheetah began to quiver, then shake with a sound like the distant rumble of an earthquake.

"Turn 'em loose, baby," murmured. He scanned his engine-instrument readouts on the main display, running down the graphic displays of engine RPM, fuel flow, nozzle and louver position, turbine inlet temperature and exhaust gas temperature.

Each bar graph lined up in the normal range, everything right smack in the green-both engines in full military power, one hundred and nine percent of rated thrust, sixty thousand pounds of power. His grip on the stick and throttles unconsciously tight- ened "Turn 'em loose .

James also performed a last-second engine instrument check.

But he had no bar graphs to check out with his eyes. ANTARES reported information not only through the visual nervous system in the form of words, numbers and symbols that he could "see, but, to avoid overload of the visual senses, also as sensations 71.

that he could detect with his other senses. He could feel the power of the engine as clear and as real as air inflating his lungs or strength rippling down his arms. He knew in an instant that the engine was at full military thrust. At a thought-command, a computer that metered fuel flow performed a retrim of the engine to compensate for pressure altitude and outside temper- ature, which yielded a few hundred pounds extra thrust. The engine-fuel trim would be accomplished every six seconds there- after as DreamStar began its test flight, accomplished as easily and as subconsciously as a person might ride a bike or drive a car along a much-traveled highway.

James briefly activated the search radar, which transmitted its signals as visual images-no obstructions or targets within thirty miles. A fast scan of VHF or UHF frequencies-no emergency calls, air traffic control challenges, no abort call from the tower.

One quick check of hydraulic systems-all running normally.

Electrical-one generator on the engine running a bit hot. On a mental suggestion, a digital flight-data recorder logged the time, conditions and readouts on the left generator for the crew chiefs to analyze after the flight.

The check of the secondary systems, including the flight-data recorder entry, had taken less time than it took JC. Powell to tighten his grip on his throttle quadrant.

James now ordered the brakes to be released . . .

saw DreamStar shoot forward. "Here we go," he said.

Patrick took a firm grip on the steel "handlebars" surround- ing the instrument panel in the aft cockpit. Without a stick, throttle, or pedals, Patrick could do nothing during takeoff but watch the engine instruments and hang on. He glanced at the large yellow-and-black-painted handgrip between his legs un- demeath the center of the instrument panel-the ejection han- dle-and mentally measured the distance to it . . .

DreamStar shot forward like a dragster popping off the starting line. James commanded the engine to max afterburner, increas- ing thrust to well over eighty thousand pounds. At almost the same instant he also commanded activation of the auto-alpha Louvers on the top of the engine nozzle swung flight mode.

open, diverting one-third of the engine thrust diagonally upward, compressing the rear main landing gear struts to their lowest 72 .

1.

position and allowing the nose-gear strut to extend fully.

DreamStar was now pointing ten degrees upward, in full un- stick, takeoff attitude.

The trailing edges of the two canards deflected downward.

The engine, coupled with the foreplanes, was now shoving DreamStar's nose skyward-its computers controlling the ca- nards kept the one-hundred-thousand-pound fighter from flip- ping backward out of control. As speed increased and the canards began to fly the nose, the louvers diverting the engine thrust upward gradually swung downward, allowing the thrust to ac- celerate the fighter and lift the tail off the runway. At one hun- dred knots airspeed DreamStar's nose gear lifted off the runway.

The pitch attitude increased to thirty degrees, held just below the stall by the computer-controlled foreplanes. At one hundred and fifty knots DrearnStar lifted off the runway, and because the wings, foreplanes and engine were commanded for maximum lift, she rose like an elevator.

In just over one thousand feet, the same distance a small general-aviation plane used at takeoff, the fifty-ton jet fighter had left the ground. Once airborne, thrust again was automatically diverted to optimize climb performance. DreamStar was now a rocket, being propelled skyward at well over twenty thousand feet per minute. By the time it reached the end of the two-mile- long camouflaged runway, it was over eight thousand feet above the ground.

JC. Powell's promise to keep up with DreamStar was kept for about five seconds.

He and McLanahan saw James give the signal to release brakes. "Two good engines," McLanahan called out from the aft cockpit as eased both engines into max afterburner.

"Roger. TWo good cookers."

They saw DreamStar dash forward, then saw its forward fu- selage jut into the sky and its canard's trailing edges snap down- ward . . .

Then DreamStar disappeared.

JC. cursed. "Hang on. " But try as he did, Powell could not match DreamStar's spectacular liftoff or climb rate. While DreamStar's pitch, power, and thrust controls were automatic, Cheetah's were mostly hand-controlled, relying on reaction time rather than electronics to trim the aircraft. When DreamStar dis- 73.

appeared from view, 's first reaction was to pull back on the stick to try to follow. But Cheetah had not reached unstick speed, and Cheetah's computerized canard pushed the nose down to the runway to gain speed.

"Command override, " the computerized voice suddenly in- tedected as Cheetah's nose fell and the nosewheel struts com- pressed. "Stall warning. "

"Damn, too much," murmured, and let the nose fall a few feet and watched the airspeed rise. "So much for a short takeoff record." He let the airspeed rebuild to one hundred eighty knots, then eased back on the stick. Cheetah glided gently off the runway. This time, with plenty of "smash," Cheetah's canards responded by pulling the nose higher into the air to take advantage of the extra speed.

touched the computer interactive control on his stick.

"Gear up."

Three red "LANDING GEAR UNSAFE" lights illuminated, and Patrick could feel the rumble as the two main wheels and the nosewheel lifted through the slipstream. "Landing gear un- safe, " the computerized voice said. Five seconds later: "Land- ing gear up and locked. "

"Gear's up," Patrick said. "TWo hundred knots. Passing six thousand feet. "

began pulling the engines one by one out of afterburner to conserve fuel. "Left engine to MIL power . . . right engine to MIL . . . Okay, where is he?"

"Four o'clock high, coming down-"

D'reamStar had appeared out of nowhere; it was in a full- power descent, nose aimed straight at Cheetah's canopy.

jammed both throttles back into max afterburner and began a hard roll to the fight.

"Too late, he's gonna hit .

Cheetah lunged forward but DreamStar kept on coming. Pat- rick could now see DreamStar's canards, deployed diagonally underneath the fighter's belly in their high-maneuverability po- sition. He could even see DreamStar's thirty millimeter Vulcan cannon muzzle screaming in closer and closer . . .

But DreamStar did not hit. The closer it came, the more the fighter began to flatten its flight path. It resembled a giant eagle swooping in on its prey. The cannon muzzle never strayed off Cheetah's canopy, even as DrearnStar reached its prey's alti- 74 .

tude-it began to fly sideways, keeping the gun dead on target, paralleling Cheetah's right turn. As Cheetah began to accelerate, DrearnStar snapped out of its sideways flight path and maneu- vered into a right rear quartering missile-attack aspect.

"He hosed us," Patrick said. "He's at our six. He made a gun pass on us on our climbout. He's in infrared missile-launch position. Roll out and get him back into fingertip formation.

rolled wings level, paused, then rocked his wings twice.

A few seconds later DrearnStar was tucked in on Cheetah's right wing, so close that they could have had overlapping wingtips.

"Only got a glimpse of him," said, "but he looked like he was haulin' ass. Tell him to stay with the ROE."

It was a JC. Powell trademark to push the rules of engage- ment to the limits; now he was complaining about someone else pushing the ROE. "He's in fingertip," Patrick reported to Pow- ell. "I'm sending him to the tactical frequency." Patrick ex- tended both hands in front of him, fists clenched, one on top of the other, the signal to switch to the agreed-on scrambled tac- tical frequency; hand signals, used as much as possible, pre- vented eavesdropping. James nodded that he understood.

On the new scrambled VHF frequency, called, "Storm flight, check in."

"TWo," a monotone voice immediately replied.

"Nice moves, Ken," Patrick said. "Wit remember the ROE.

No maneuvering and no closure rate greater than two hundred knots within one mile of your target. I'd say you came close on both.

"Yes, Sir. " The metallic-sounding voice was James' altered by the computer. It sounded almost sarcastic. Or was Patrick imagining that?

"Okay, forget it," Patrick said, imaging Powell's face.

didn't like being upstaged. He wouldn't be sore because he had been upstaged by a younger pilot but that he had been hosed by a machine called ANTARES. "Ken, ready to start so7e dog- fighting? "

"Affirmative.

"Roger. Lead will come left, heading three-one-zero to stay inside our airspace. On roll-out, Ken, you are the fox. We'll give you fifteen seconds, then we're coming after you. Block is ten to fifty thousand feet, keep it under the Mach, please, or the camera telemetry won't keep up with you. And stay within the 75.

ROE, gents. We're all on the same team ... Lead, come left heading three-one-zero. Head's up."

11TWo's in."

started a hard left turn to Patrick's assigned heading. The roll was a bit more abrupt than it should have been but it didn't seem to faze James-he stayed right in there, perhaps a few feet farther out, but still in tight fingertip formation. The instant rolled out of his turn, DreamStar merely dropped straight down out of sight.

"There he goes," Patrick said. "Straight down, I can't see him. "

"Fifteen seconds," Powell complained dryly. "He could be in the next state in fifteen seconds."

"That's why he only gets five seconds. Go get 'em."

Powell rolled inverted, then pulled hard on the stick. Cheetah did a tight inverted turn, losing five thousand feet. Patrick was straining against the G-forces shoving him deep into his seat, trying to look up through the canopy to where he thought DreamStar would be.

I "Tally ho," sang out. "Coming up on our twelve 0 clock. Right where I thought he'd be." Patrick fought a wave Of vertigo as he searched for DreamStar on radar. Normally the back-seater on an F-15E fighter-bomber would use his radar and process the attack for the pilot, but Patrick was only along as a camera operator and observer- would have to find and pro- cess his own targets. But already had very unconventional help, and he quickly began working on his kill.

He hit the voice-command button. "Attack radar transmit, target report. " Patrick watched as the attack radar went auto- matically from "STANDBY" to "TRANSMIT" and began a wide-area scan.

"Radar transmit, " the computer responded. Almost imme- diately, the computer reported, "Radar contact, range fifteen miles. "

"Heads up display."

's windscreen was filled with symbols and numbers, seemingly floating in space. Unlike regular HUDs, heads-up dis- plays-pieces of plate glass that reflected up from the instrument console to the pilot-Cheetah's consisted of large banks of high- resolution laser projectors that created three-dimensional images that hung in space. Unlike a reflected HUD system, which relied 76 .

on the pilot orienting himself directly behind the glass, Chee- tah's laser-projected images were visible no matter how the pilot moved in his seat, and even bright sunlight or glare on the wind- shield could not wash the images away. The laser images showed an icon of DreamStar with a diamond symbol around it, indi- cating that Cheetah's attack radar was locked onto it. Columns of numbers surrounding the icon showed DreamStar's heading, airspeed, range and closure rate.

"Target designate . . ." Powell said. Instantly micro-wattage laser projectors in his helmet scanned his eyeballs, and a holo- graphic circle and crosshairs was projected up onto the wind- screen corresponding to exactly where he was lookin . He centered the crosshairs on the icon, ". - . now." 9 "Target radar lock, " the computer reported.

"Laser slave to radar," ordered.

"Target laser lock. " A four-pointed star superimposed itself on DreamStar's icon. Unlike Cheetah's attack radar, the laser rangefinder was undetectable by any of DreamStar's radar- detecting threat-warning receivers. Cheetah could carry a dozen laser-guided ATM-12 Cougar hypervelocity missiles, which were high-speed, nonexplosive, relatively inexpensive guided mis-'

siles. Fired from very short to very long ranges-it had no war- head and therefore no minimum-range requirements-the Cougar missile could be used to attack both air and ground targets, destroying its target by sheer force of impact.

DreamStar was still cruising along on the same heading. He hadn't been detected-yet. As James drove in closer he would eventually pick up Cheetah's radar emissionsJ JC. had to control his excitement and steady his voice to issue more commands to the computer.

"Radar standby."

"Radar standby. " The laser rangefinder would now process the entire kill without danger of detection.

took a deep breath. "Arm laser missile."

"Arm laser missile, warning, practice missile armed. " The weapons multi-function display showed Cheetah's ten weapons stations, the belly-mounted Cougar missile rack illuminated with the number 12 on it, signifying the number of hypervelocity missiles remaining.

"Launch laser missile."

77.

"Launch ... Warning! Collision warning. Collision warn- ing. "

barely had time to react. DreamStar had just frozen in mid-air, still on its original heading, and let Cheetah drive right at him, chopping the distance between the two advanced fighters from ten miles to practically zero in the blink of an eye. Powell, with no choice, rolled hard behind DreamStar and dived past him. The computer had processed the launch conimand, but Powell doubted very much if he'd ever be credited with a "kill"

with a closure rate and maneuver like that.

"God . . ." McLanahan breathed. He remembered how they had used the same maneuver in the B-52s in the past. Especially one particular B-52, his Old Dog Zero One, on that mission over Russia that seemed like a million years ago. "Now I know what it feels like to get sucked in . . . "

"He knew we'd try that dive on him," Powell said. "He was waiting for us. The minute he detected our attack radar was off he knew we were committed. He just put DrearnStar on max alpha hover and chopped his power." But JC. didn't linger on James' maneuver. He knew DreamStar could accelerate back to combat speed and pull in right behind him just as fast as he had slowed down. So selected full afterburner and yanked the nose skyward, throwing Cheetah into a near-vertical climb.

"You mean ANTARES outguessed you?" Patrick taunted as he clung to his handlebars in the steep climb.

didn't take the bait. "That was my fault. I performed like any pilot would if he sees a bogey below him. Well, enough of that. No more predictability."

Fighting in the horizontal, DreamStar, it seemed, was un- beatable-but DreamStar had only one engine and was less pow- erful when fighting in the vertical. In spite of Cheetah's weight penalties she was still a powerhouse when it came to dogfighting in two dimensions.

"Laser to standby. Radar to transmit," Powell spoke into the voice-recognition computer. It acknowledged his commands and gave presentations of his emitter and weapons status on the dis- plays in the cockpit.

Cheetah was nearing the top of the altitude block when suddenly rolled her into a wild backward loop. "I'm betting he didn't have time to break out of that hover and follow us up here. I'm betting he's still right where we left him . . . "

78 DAIE BROWN.

JC. had let the nose just barely fall through the horizon when the holographic diamond again appeared on the windscreen.

"Tally ho. " He didn't wait for the computer to acknowledge the radar lock-on but centered the electronic crosshairs on the icon.