The laser beam that hit the first Libyan MiG-23 fighter was akin to a blowtorch against a stick of butter-the fighter's fuselage was not merely melted, but vaporized at the same instant. The beam focused on the fattest section of the aircraft-the fuselage between the wings, containing the midbody fuel tank, the fighter's largest fuel tank. The superheated metal ignited the three thousand gallons of vaporized jet fuel in the blink of an eye, creating a fireball over a mile in diameter that swallowed the fighter and sent burning clouds of fire spreading across the night sky like a man-made aurora borealis. The explosion was plainly visible from over one hundred and fifty miles away.
'Lost contact,' Lindsey said matter-of-factly, still monitoring the laser engagement on her supercockpit display.
'My God,' Bud Franken gasped, dropping his mask in surprise. 'We did it. We nailed it.' He had to pull himself back into the present-he was astonished, thinking of the power of this incredible weapon. They were over sixty miles away from the target. In one instant, the image of the MiG-23 fighter, magnified by the laser's telescope and deformable mirror, was sharp and clear-the next instant it was gone, lost in a ball of superheated gas. There was almost no debris-nothing except a wave of fire quickly dissipating in the sky. 'Let's tag that last fighter.'
'Attack target Dragon,' Lindsey repeated, touching the screen again. Seconds later the second MiG disappeared from their screens as well.
'Zero, this is Bud, splash two fighters,' Franken said. 'Your tail is clear. Clear to head to the rendezvous point. We can cover you almost until you reach Israeli airspace.'
As they watched the EB-52 retreat to the northeast, to rendezvous with the DC-10 tanker for its refueling anchor, Reeves also monitored another aircraft-this one a small, slow one, flying at barely treetop level, across the sands toward southeast Tripoli. This aircraft was datalinking its threat receiver information to the AL-52 Dragon, and now a pop-up threat displayed itself on Lindsey's supercockpit display. 'The MV-22 has got an SA-10 at his twelve o'clock, thirty miles,' Franken said. 'His signal is pretty strong-he'll get within detection threshold in less than five miles.' On the command channel, he radioed, 'Motorboat, this is Dragon, you've got a threat ahead that's locking on you. Reverse course.'
'Can you tag him, Dragon?' the pilot of the MV-22 Pave Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft asked.
'Stand by,' Franken replied. He turned to his young mission commander. 'Can you get him, Linds?'
'I'm slaving on him now,' Reeves said. She slaved the laser's telescope to the threat location datalinked from the MV-22. 'I got the command vehicle,' she said happily. She moved the target cursor from the radar dish itself to the command cab, located on the back of the same vehicle. 'Let's see what happens-'
But before she could commit, their threat receiver changed from a 'SEARCH' warning to a 'LOCK' warning and instantly to a 'MISSILE LAUNCH' warning. 'SA-10 in the air!' Reeves shouted.
'Reverse course, Motorboat,' Franken said. 'Full countermeasures.' To Reeves he said, 'Nab that sucker, Linds!'
Lindsey Reeves had already switched from slaving mode to the laser radar, and the system instantly picked up the two incoming SA-10 missiles. 'Got the SAMs,' she said. 'Attack SA-10 missiles Dragon.'
'Warning, plasma generator number three not ready,' the computer spoke.
'What does that mean, 'not ready'?' Franken asked.
'We've gotten several warning messages from about a dozen different components of the laser,' Reeves Said, 'but I've bypassed them all. I think the plasma generator vessels are becoming too hot, both from the heat of the fusion reaction and the stray radiation leakage impregnating the aluminum. The magnetic fields can't contain all the particles, and it weakens the reactor vessel.'
Franken checked the supercockpit display. 'We've got no choice now, Linds,' he said. 'If a reactor fails, we jettison it and we're done for the day.'
'I agree,' Reeves said. To the computer she said, 'Deactivate generator number three, reset warning, and attack Dragon.'
'Laser commit, stop attack,' the computer replied. 'Caution, plasma generator number one overtemp, stop attack.' Computer cautions did not require an override: Lindsey simply remained silent, and the computer processed the attack. Seconds later both SA-10 missiles were destroyed, and Reeves turned her attention back to the saved set of coordinates for the SA-10 command vehicle. 'C'mon, baby,' she said. 'Show me what you got.'
The laser radar system couldn't fully compensate for the massive atmospheric distortion caused by shooting down through the atmosphere-but this time, it didn't need to. The plasma laser beam could only focus down to two feet in diameter-but with over two megawatts' worth of power, it was enough. The laser instantly burned through the dielectric fiberglass panel covering the face of the phased array radar, melted several hundred emitter arrays underneath, then burned clear through the thin metal radar structure. The beam stayed on target long enough to weaken the steel supporting the radar, and the radar collapsed backward against the command cab, knocking the entire unit out of commission.
'Oh, man,' Lindsey gasped. 'The radar's down… I mean, it's down, on top of the command cab. We just destroyed a ground vehicle with a laser fired from an airplane.'
As the MV-22 continued toward its objective-the presidential palace in Tripoli-the AL-52 Dragon moved farther west until it was in a patrol orbit north of Tripoli. There were fighters everywhere, but Lindsey dared not use the laser to shoot at any of them-she had no idea what it would do. She could do nothing but stay in orbit, watch the last aircraft in their attack formation make its way in to the target, and wait.
But minutes later, just as the MV-22 had lined up for its final few miles to its objective, Lindsey expanded her supercockpit display and took another laser radar snapshot. 'I've got a formation of two enemy aircraft, MiG-25s, twelve o'clock, thirty miles from Motorboat and closing, descending, speed eight hundred forty knots,' Lindsey reported. 'I've got a second formation of aircraft right behind them-my God, they're MiG-29s, four MiG-29s. I'm not sure if the laser will get them all.'
'Bud, can you keep these guys off us until we make it to the infil point?'
'I'd bug out if I were you,' Franken responded. 'We're getting continuous faults on the laser, and we've already lost one generator.'
'Give us thirty seconds and we'll be outta here,' the pilot of the MV-22 aircraft said. 'Keep 'em off us for as long as you can.'
'No promises, boys,' Franken said. To Lindsey Reeves: 'What's it look like, Linds?'
'Pretty bad-we should be bugging out of here ourselves,' Reeves replied. 'I'm getting overtemp warnings on the plasma generators even though the system isn't powered on, and I think the heat is affecting the magnetron that channels the plasma field into the laser generators. If the magnetic field's not strong enough, and the plasma field touches the inertial confinement chamber before the reaction stops-we'll be turned into Stardust in a millisecond.'
'Roger that,' Franken replied. On the command channel: 'Sorry, boys, but I suggest you bug out now-we'll use the last bit of juice we have left in the laser to cover your retreat.'
'Twenty seconds, Dragon. Fifteen.'
'Lindsey…'
'We're pushing it, Bud-but okay.' She touched the icons for the MiG-25 fighters, then spoke: 'Attack commit Dragon.'
'Warning, overtemp on plasma generator number one… caution, magnetron voltage approaching tolerance limit… caution, overtemp on plasma generator number two.'
'Override overtemp warning and attack.'
'Warning, magnetron voltage at tolerance…'
Franken looked over at his young mission commander. No sign of airsickness this time-she was all business, steady and focused. 'Override all magnetron warnings and attack,' Lindsey said.
'Warning, plasma containment-'
'Override all warnings and attack!' Lindsey shouted.
'Attack commit Dragon, MiG-25, stop attack.'
Suddenly there was a deep, high-pitched vibration coming from the back of the AL-52 Dragon, so great that Franken had to take a firmer grip on the control stick. He was about to order her to stop the laser from firing, but at that moment she announced, 'MiG one destroyed.' But the vibration didn't stop-in fact, it was getting worse.
'Lindsey-'
'Attack commit Dragon,' she announced.
