'Low altitude calibrated mode selector.'
'Automatic.'
'Target coordinates, elevation, and ballistics.'
'Set, displayed, checked, locked in. 'McLanahan then made a swift check of the coordinates. 'Ballistics set for glide mode. 'His response was reflexive; he had no master printout to check the coordinates.
'Consent switches, pilot and radar,' Luger answered.
General Elliott painfully reached back along his left side instrument panel and checked that the three gang- barred consent switches-the permission switches for the forward and rear-firing Scorpion missiles and the Striker glide-bomb and bomb decoys-were in the full UP position.
'Pilot's switches are-' A warning tone sounded in the crew's headsets, and the Old Dog pitched violently skyward, its pointy nose at a high, unnatural angle.
Ormack hit the AUTOPILOT DISCONNECT button on his ontrol yoke and pushed the nose back toward the ground.
@'Flyup. Nav, clear terrain for me and get us back down. Radar, what happened?'
McLanahan was already investigating. 'The terrain-data computer dropped off the line. 'He looked over at Luger.
'Dave, clear terrain for him. I'm going to reset the computer and reload the data.
'High terrain, three miles,' Luger called out. 'I'm starting to paint over it. Don't descend yet. 'McLanahan's gloved fingers flew over the switches. 'Computer's back on-line. 'He flipped the cartridge lever from LOCK to READ.'It'll take a few moments more.'
'The Kavaznya radar is getting stronger,' Wendy reported.
'Well above detection threshold now.'
'Clear of terrain for twenty miles,' Luger asked. 'Start a slight descent. Possible high terrain in ten miles.
'Fighter radars have all gone down,' Wendy asked. 'The Kava,znya radar has blotted them all out-or the fighters are now getting their vectors from that big radar McLanahan glanced at the radar altimeter readout as the LOADING DATA indication appeared on his screen. The Old Dog's fail-safe flyup maneuver, designed to protect the aircraft in case of a failure of any of the components of the terrainfollowing computer, had zoomed the huge bomber to over two thousand feet above the terrain.
The engines were at full military thrust, holding the bomber in the sky.
'Altitude's still increasing,' McLanahan warned.
'Dammit, I know,' Ormack said. He leaned on the yoke helping Elliott force the SST nose of the Old Dog toward the protection of the rough Kamchatka hills. The Old Dog crested the flyup at twenty-three hundred feet above the ground before Ormack and Elliott together finally had it descending again 'Fighters at seven o'clock,' Angelina called out.
'Maneuvering to intercept…'She steered the circle cursor of the airmine rocket tracker over one of the attackers but at electronic quiver in the scope sent a shower of interference waves through the display, sending the tracking cursor spinnin off the radar return.
'Something's screwing up my radar.'
'Terrain-data computer is back on-line,' McLanahan reported. Ormack immediately reengaged the autopilot to the computer, and the Old Dog nosed earthward.
'First HARM missile programmed and ready,' Wend, reported to Angelina.
'Bay door coming open.'
Wendy hit the LAUNCH button. The aft bomb-bay door snapped open and the hydraulic launcher rotated to position one of the High-speed Anti-Radar Missiles on the bottom launch position. Wendy had already entered the radar' frequency range into the missile's sensor. Powerful ejector pushed the missile into the slipstream, its rocket motor ignited and the launcher immediately rotated to put another HARN missile into launch position.
Wendy monitored the HARM TRACK light on her missile status panel, indicating that the missile had found the source of the preprogrammed frequency transmissions and was heading straight for it. Suddenly Wendy's entire threat panel and missile status board flickered. The HARM TRACK light illuminates again for a moment, then disappeared.
'It's the Kavaznya radar,' Wendy asked. 'It's creating the interference in my equipment. The HARM missile won't track Luger held his breath as a stream of ridgelines rushed toward them, their shadows speeding toward the edge of his wedge shaped radar scope. As the Old Dog climbed over them, he stared transfixed 'Dave!We got the computer back,' McLanahan said as he finished recycling the computer. 'Let's finish the checklist.'
He reached across to his left instrument panel and flipped a red guarded switch up. 'Radar's consent switch on.
Luger had to tear his eyes away from the scope to read the checklist.
'Weapon and decoy power.'
I 'On and checked,' McLanahan said, and moved the tracking handle once more to check that the Striker's seeker head was still activated.
'Bomb-release lights.'
Elliott sat forward and pressed-to-test his indicator lights.
'Off and checked.'
'Off and checked down here too,' McLanahan replied.
'Release configuration check,' Luger read. 'Special weapons lock.
Suddenly the Old Dog threw itself skyward once more.
Ormack swore, punched off the autopilot once again. Immediately Luger's full attention was riveted on the narrow wedge-radar display.
'High terrain, five miles.'
'Reset the computer,' Ormack ordered, but McLanahan was already resetting the computer power-switches. He tried the circuit reset-switch. It corrected the fault but only for a few seconds, and then the computer faulted once again. He tried severa more quick resets. 'Something's wrong, it's not resetting. I'll have to recycle it. Maintain heading… god damn, the inertial navigation computer died. We've lost navigation information. I'll try to reset 'Just do it,' Ormack asked. 'Nav 'Clear to descent,' Luger told him. 'Slowly.
Small ridge three miles, but we should clear it okay-' 'Fighters are closing,' from Angelina. 'It's hard to keep tracking them, my radar keeps spooking out — ' 'It's Kavaznya,' Wendy told her. 'The radar is interfering with all our equipment.'
'We'll be flying right over that thing,' Elliott said.
'Pilot, turn right!Fighter swinging over to eight o'clock on a left quartering attack-' 'McLanahan, can I turn?'
'We'll get shot down if you don't. Do it. 'The Old Dog — IMP banked to the right and moments later the muffled puffs of three airmine rockets rumbled through the bomber.
'Can't tell if I got them…'Angelina said.
'I've got nothing to jam,' Wendy said, pounding in frustration on her ejection seat armrests. Her threat display was now a solid sheet of white-every frequency band that was possible to be displayed was filled with endless waves of energy. A jamming package put up against the energy transmitted by the nuclear-powered Kavaznya radar was lost in the spillover created by Kavaznya radar's sheer power.
'Clear of terrain for thirty miles. 'Luger double-checked his radar.
They had cleared the last of the high coastmountain ranges surrounding Kavaznya. At the edge of the scope was blackness-the Bering Sea, he suddenly realized.
Only a few hundred miles further on was home-friendly, territory.
Right now, though, it seemed like a million miles away.
At the very edge of the sea was a huge, compact blob of radar returns.
He got two sweeps of the radar on the Kavazny complex itself before the ground-map scope blanked out.
'Just lost my radar, Kavaznya's at twelve o'clock, thirty miles.
McLanahan heard the warning and glanced over at Luger's blank five-inch radar scope, but he was concentrated on recovering the navigation and terrain-data computers. The firs computer recycle failed, so he
