smile, “Well, that was close. You know what happened? The plug was off by a fraction of an inch. It was in close enough to report a closed and safe reading, but there wasn’t any data transfer. Worse, that would have only shown up when the booster was in launch position and the interlocks were removed. On the dock, it was hooked into a different data bus and reported okay. No wonder we thought it was TDRS’ fault.” Kaddiri continued to read off the booster’s primary performance more for the benefit of the mission voice recorder than anything else. The recorder served as a backup to the computerized data-retrieval system. She didn’t say a word to Masters. Wouldn’t even look at him. Masters noticed the silence and fidgeted a bit. Every launch flight lately seemed to bring out the worst in her. Where was her sense of adventure? Forget it, he decided, she didn’t have one. Still, she was part of his team and he wanted to keep things on an even keel. “Good thing I caught it, huh?” he asked almost sheepishly. “No, ” Kaddiri said evenly, not looking at him. She didn’t want to go into it with him. Not now. They were, after all, being recorded. Still, he had removed all the safety interlocks, leaving them totally unprotected in case there’d been an ignition-circuit malfunction or a guidance-computer malfunction. That booster could have easily gone off in the cabin and killed them all. Worse he’d reconnected a malfunctioning plug on a live booster. Who knows, she wondered, what that would have done? Masters knew she was reviewing the past few minutes and said, “Helen… it was on countdown hold.”
“Because I put it there, Jon.” And, she thought, if we’d done it your way and continued the countdown, Masters might be splashing down in the Pacific right now, right behind our twenty-million-dollar booster-if the thing didn’t cook off first. “Well, ” Masters said expansively, “it’s dead on course, dead on speed, dead on altitude. It’ll be in orbit in eight minutes and the friggin’ Air Force can get a look at all that shit going on in the Philippines.”
“Whatever you say, Jon. “Helen, come on. “Drop it.” And he did. PALAWAN PASSAGE, NEAR ULUGAN BAY PALAWAN PROVINCE, THE PHILIPPINES THURSDAY, 22 SEPTEMBER 1994, 0417 HOURS LOCAL The Hong Lung task force had driven to within twenty kilometers of the fleeing Filipino fleet when the first Shuihong-5 antiship flying boat arrived on the scene. The Chinese flotilla was picking its way through a series of reefs and shoals along the Palawan Passage on the west side of the island of Palawan, the westernmost province of the Philippines. Most of the island was remote and sparsely settled, but Ulugan Bay, the Filipino fleet’s obvious destination, had the best- outfitted port facilities at Nanan. It was also only forty-five kilometers north of Puerto Princesa, a former United States Air Force base on Palawan that was now a Philippine Air Force base; that base was the largest airport on Palawan and the center of the isolated island’s meager population. “Talon Eight-One, this is Dragon, ” Admiral Yin Po L’un radioed to the pilot of the flying boat. “Reconnoiter the Filipino attack fleet to the east. Report on any hostile activity. Authorized to return fire if fired upon. Warning, Chinese vessels have already been attacked and destroyed by this combat group. Proceed with caution.” It was a moot warning for the Shuihong-5 crew-if they followed their previous pattern, the Philippine vessels would fire on the flying boat. The Shuihong crew would then return fire with their murderous cargo and destroy most of the Filipino warships. But it did not happen. Several minutes later, the pilot of the Shuihong-5 antiship aircraft reported, “Sir, Talon Eight-One reporting. We are in contact with four surface vessels, repeat, four vessels. The larger vessels identified as PF-class frigates, repeat, two PF-class frigates. Two smaller, probably PS- or LF-class patrol vessels. Over.” “Commander Chow had reported possibly two PS patrol boats out there, ” Captain Lubu said. “He mentioned a corvette… “But there are two frigates instead of two patrol boats, ” Yin said. “Chow can’t identify ships very accurately at night at distances over five kilometers, even with ISAR radar.” Lubu nodded, not quite convinced but accepting the explanation for now. “The PS patrol boat is probably the Rizal identified as the helicopter platform, ” he added. “We should be on the lookout for another missile attack from the helicopters.”
“They’re running, ” Yin said confidently. “The fight has gone out of the cowardly bastards. What is the status of the enemy ships now? Why haven’t they opened fire on the patrol plane?” A large patrol plane like the Shuihong-5 was a major threat to any ships such as those of the Filipinos’, which had no antiaircraft missiles. “What is his range?” “Nine kilometers, ” Lubu reported, relaying the information from the Combat section. “They detect search and navigation radar only-no target-acquisition radars detected. He is awaiting instructions.” Incredible, Yin thought-how could the frigate captain stay so cool in the face of an airborne hostile contact? Surely he must realize that the Chinese Air Force had such strike aircraft in the region? And then he realized that the Philippine vessels probably had no antiair weapons other than their guns, which had a maximum range no farther than four to five kilometers; the Hong Lung’s Hong Qian-9 surface-to-air missile had a range of about seventy kilometers, and Yin would not hesitate to use them against any unidentified aircraft that flew within range of his ship. “Close to five kilometers, maintain contact, report any change in hostile status, ” Yin ordered the patrol plane. “I want positive identification of all vessels in that formation.” The Shuihong-5 pilot hesitated for a few long moments-he realized that his commanding officer had just ordered him to fly within gun range of the Filipino vessels. The pilot responded hesitantly, “Yes… sir. Talon Eight-One copies.” There were a few warning messages broadcast in English on international emergency channels, but Yin ignored them all. The plane drove only a few kilometers closer before the slowscan P-band air-search radar switched to a high-PRF X-band fire-control radar, and soon, at precisely five kilometers range between the largest ship in the Filipino battle group, Admiral Yin heard the satisfyingly terrified voice of the pilot screaming in the radio that he was under fire from heavy antiaircraft artillery. “Return fire, ” Admiral Yin ordered angrily. “Clear to launch air-to-surface missiles. Stay out of gun range and at high altitude; Dragon task force will be attacking as well.” Yin turned to Captain Lubu. “Are we receiving target telemetry from the patrol plane?”
“Yes, sir, ” Lubu responded, double-checking with his Combat Information officers. The Shuihong-5 patrol plane could transmit radar data from its Heracles II surface-search radar to other ships capable of accepting the information; the Hong Lung could use this information to target the Fei Lung-7 antiship missile as if it were picking up the radar data from its own transmitters. “Very well, ” Yin said smugly. “Begin our attack. Launch two Fei Lung missiles from long range, get a strike report from the plane, and re-attack with two more. I want this battle concluded as quickly as possible, Lubu.” PUERTO PRINCESA AIRFIELD, PALAWAN, THE PHILIPPINES The naked young girl lying on Colonel Renaldo Tamalko’s chest was so thin and lithe that he inadvertently tossed her onto the floor as he reached for the incessantly ringing phone. He grunted an apology to the girl as he picked up the receiver. “What?”
“Command Post, Sergeant Komos, sir, ” the voice of the NCO in charge of the tiny Philippine Air Force base at Puerto Princesa, Palawan, replied. “We’ve received an urgent message from a naval task force group west of Palawan, requesting immediate assistance.”
“Wait a second.” Tamalko flicked on the light and rubbed his eyes sleepily. All that registered to the Philippine Air Force squadron commander was that his command post senior controller was excited, and that usually meant bad news. The old window-mounted air conditioner was on full force, but the room was still hot and steamy. He motioned toward a glass of clear liquid on the table in the center of the room, silently ordering the girl to bring it to him and hoping that it wasn’t more booze. He watched the young maid’s gentle curves and tight butt as she brought the glass over to him-she didn’t look any older than fourteen or fifteen, but her sexual skills were certainly well developed, he thought. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back over to him, and guided her hand back to his crotch. The glass had a bit of whiskey mixed with several melted ice cubes, so he contented himself with pouring the liquid over his face to help wake himself up. “Say again, Sergeant?”
“A Navy captain Banio of the Thirty-first Patrol Group from Zamboanga has issued a tactical emergency warning message to all military units, ” the NCO said. “He states that a Chinese naval force is in pursuit and is approaching Palawan, about forty miles west of Ulugan Bay. He requests immediate air support.”
“A Chinese naval force? In pursuit? Of who? Pursuing him? What kind of air support does he need? What the hell is going on out there?”
“We’re trying to raise him again, sir, ” Komos said. “There was a brief radio message about an attack in progress, but no more details are available.”
“Shit, ” Tamalko swore. Fucking Chinese. To Komos he said, “This had better not be some kind of joke, Sergeant. Did you receive any kind of verification? Was the message authenticated?” “No, sir, ” the controller replied. “Contact has not been reestablished.” Tamalko swore to himself. This could be some kind of drill or exercise-it was similar to the kind of stuff the Americans liked to pull, when the Americans used to be here. But since the Americans had been kicked out of the Philippines, things had been very, very quiet… Too quiet, as matter of fact. The Communist guerrillas, who were numerous and strong on Palawan and the other outlying provinces, had stepped up their recruitment drives and had certainly become much more active, but incidents of violence were not as commonhe hadn’t had one of his officers shot or beaten up downtown in weeks. Before the Americans departed, it seemed to happen every weekend. As much as almost everyone in the military hated having a Communist like
