'Too high, General,' Wendy said, studying the new VH frequency range on her video display. 'Lower. To at least one twenty megahertz.' 'Icepack, take it over to one-One-two point one-five, Elliott said.
Sands, aboard the KC-10, looked curiously at Ashley who,i along with Reynolds shared his confusion. Ashley switched frequencies.
'How do you copy, Genesis?'
'Loud and clear, Icepack, ' Elliott said. Over interphone k.
said, 'Okay, I got him, Wendy. Take 'em all down.'
'Will do, General.'
'Range, Patrick?'
'Fifty-five miles, General,' McLanahan told him. 'And I've got additional radar contact at twelve o'clock, eighty miles, fast-moving.
You were right.'
'He's only following SOP, — Ormack said.
'He's still a snake,' Elliott asked. 'He was a snake at the Academy, and he's still one. Patrick, I've got it.
'Go get 'em, General.'
'Icepack, this is Genesis,' Elliott said over the new VHF frequency.
'Go ahead, Genesis.'
'The name is Elliott, Eddie,' the general began, staring into the twilight. 'We're at fifty-five miles at your one o'clock.
You launched without proper authentication, leaving me to believe that you have no intention of rendezvousing with us.
You're going to turn the opposite direction, or fly past us.
Either way, it'd be a mistake.'
'Why, General Elliott,' Sands said, grinning. 'I figured it was you.
What's a big SAC cheese like you doing in a hell-hole like this?'
'You're going to make this rendezvous, Colonel-' Or else, were you going to say') We're getting feisty in our old age, aren't we?Well, I've got news for you, sir-we're heading back to Shemya, and we're going to- 'Just watch your one o'clock, Icepack.'
Now listen, Elliott-'
As Sands was posturing aboard the KC-10 tanker, Wendy ejected four bundles of chaff from the wings of the Megafortress. Angelina locked her airmine radar onto the cloud of metallic tinsel behind them, and when they moved about a mile behind the bomber fired a single airmine rocket at the cloud.
From the cockpit of the KC-10 Extender tanker it resembled a giant flower-like fireworks display, even at their range. The airmine rocket plowed into the cloud of chaff and exploded mixing thousands of chips of metal into the explosion and fire caused by the exploding rocket.
The detonation ignited the chaff and the shrapnel from the rocket, creating a fiery cloud that spread rapidly across the evening sky.
' Turn range is twenty-two, Eddie,' Elliott said over interplane.
'Left turn. Or we'll make another little fireworks display on your tail.'
'Switch radio two back to command post,' Sands said sharply. 'The fighters'll be on three-eleven. Have them get their asses up here.' He stared at the slowly dissipating cloud of fire ahead and clenched his fists. 'Screw you,' he muttered, 'I'm running this show, General.'
As Ashley switched frequencies from VHF and U.H.F range and keyed the microphone, an ear-splitting squeal drowned out his call.
'He's trying to transmit on three-eleven,' Wendy said, studying her emitter video display 'We're jamming U.H.F and VHF too,' Elliott said to the KC-10.'So forget about calling those fighters. We're jamming I.F.F and we'll squeal out HF, too.'
'Thirty-five miles, General,' McLanahan said.
'One more convincer, Eddie,' Elliott told him. 'I understand you folks have threat-warning receivers now. Well, check it out. 'On the interphone he called down. 'Lock onto him Patrick. 'McLanahan hit his TRACK switch, pressed the ENABLE lever on his tracking handle, and guided a circle cursor over the radar skin-paint of the KC-10 tanker.
When he released the ENABLE lever the circle remained on the return and a green numeral 'one' lighted on McLanahan's TV screen.
'Got him,' McLanahan announced. On board the KC-10 the results were a bit more dramatic. On the threat- warning receiver on the instrument panel between the pilots, Elliott's plane had been showing as an 'S,' for search radar. The 'friendly' symbol on the threat radar video display suddenly changed into a hostile 'bat-wing' threat symbol.
Moments later a red MISSILE ALERT illuminated as the threat receiver's internal computer interpreted the steady 'lock-on' signal from the unknown aircraft as a missile tracking signalindicating a missile ready to launch.
'We gotta get out of here,' from Ashley.
'Easy, co-pilot, easy,' from Reynolds.
'How do we know who he is?'
The S.O.B. is bluffing,' Reynolds asked. 'He's a goddamned friendly.
He won't shoot. Set the I.F.F to EMER.Get on GUARD and call those fighters.'
Sands waited a few moments while Reynolds directed his crew. The anticipated results came a few seconds later.
'I.F.F's faulted,' Ashley asked. 'No interrogate indication.'
'Heavy jamming on all emergency frequencies,' the flight engineer reported.
'Okay, okay,' Sands asked. 'Tie the autopilot back into the rendezvous computer. Make the turn.
'But we can't-' 'Yes, we can. Someone's either playing a very big joke… or is very serious. It doesn't matter-we're committed,' he said, and flipped over to the interplane channel.
'Okay, Genesis, you convinced us,' Sands asked. 'Or should I say, General Elliott?Don't worry, we'll make the turn.
Are we going to have to listen to that missile alert bull all through the refueling?'
Elliott smiled. 'Take it down, Patrick. 'McLanahan deselected the TRACK switch and punched in 'one' on his keyboard, and his circle cursor went to the 'home' position in the upper left corner of the radar scope.
'Icepack turning left heading two-seven-one,' Ashley said nervously on the radio.
On board the Old Dog, McLanahan watched the radar return carefully for a few moments, then said, 'He looks fine, General, normal turn rate, correct direction. He should roll out two miles ahead of us.
'Good. Get back on long range and get a fix on those fighters. I've got a visual on his lights.'
McLanahan switched from thirty to eighty miles range and immediately a large bright return appeared, just passing the thirty-five-mile range mark.
'Thirty-five miles, General. Closing fast.'
'Genesis has visual contact,' Ormack said. He pointed out the cockpit windows into the growing blackness.
'So, General,' Sands said, 'last I heard you were in the Looking Glass unit in Omaha. You're a long way from Nebraska, sir. 'He paused, then: 'I thought the missile alert stuff was sort of childish, General.
You wouldn't fire a missile at one of our own. Now let's cut the crap-' 'Not now, Eddie,' Elliott broke in. 'Now, I know you have a code-word that sends those F-15s home. We'll release your fighter frequency so you can tell them they're not needed.'left. 'Then you also know, General, that I got a word that'll have those trigger-happy jocks blow you into atoms.'
Elliott looked at Ormack. 'He's right.'
'Game's over. If I say nothing-or if you keep jamming and I'm not allowed to say anything-those boys come in hellbent for blood and with itchy trigger fingers on real Sidewinders. It may be too late already, sir, what with their interplane frequency being jammed like that. If this is some sort of exercise.it's gone way too far-but I'm not yelling uncle. You are. Right now. What'll it be?'
