Air Battle Force

“Yes, sir, I see them,” Daren responded. “Vampire, IFF check on bogeys.”

“Negative IFF,” the computer responded. The Vampire could send out coded interrogation signals and scan for a response from a friendly aircraft using the IFF, or “Identification Friend or Foe” system — if it did not receive a response, the aircraft was considered hostile. “Designate as bandits one and two.”

“Attack bandit one,” Daren ordered. He waited, then said more insistently, “I said, attack bandit one, Vampire. I say again, attack bandit one, Vampire.”

Zane looked at Daren with surprise. “Uh… sir?”

Daren held up a finger, but Zane pressed.

“You forgot to say the magic word, boss.”

“I know — just wanted to see if the computer would go off on its own,” Daren explained.

“Let’s not screw around here, guys,” Rebecca warned. “We can test the gear once our guys are out of Indian country.”

“It was just a test, Rebecca,” Daren said. “Vampire, attack bandit one. Hang on, crew.”

“Engaging bandit one,” the computer responded. The bomber immediately threw itself into a hard right turn and accelerated to zone-five afterburner.

“Weapons arming,” Patrick reported as he scanned the readouts on his multifunction display. He had barely moved from the position he assumed on takeoff — hands firmly holding on to his ejection seat’s armrests, feet locked together, as if ready for the ejection sequence. “Scorpion missile powered up. Continuity check in progress… continuity and connectivity checks on all weapons.”

“Thirty seconds to attack,” the computer responded. Then: “Attack aborted.” The Vampire rolled wings-level and maintained its present altitude.

“Weapons just safed themselves,” Patrick reported. “Jon…?”

“Second computer crumped,” Masters said immediately. “Third computer couldn’t accept control with weapons armed. The next computer should assume control any second.”

“Vampire, pursue bandit one, close to ten miles in trail at flight level one-five-zero,” Daren ordered. There was no response. “Vampire, close to ten miles in trail on bandit one at flight level one-five-zero. It’s not accepting commands, guys.”

“Wait until the third computer assumes control,” Jon said.

“ ‘Wait’? What do you mean, ‘wait’?” Rebecca asked.

“Computer transfer complete,” Masters said. “Everything should be okay now.”

“Vampire, close to ten miles in trail on bandit one at flight level zero-five-zero,” Daren ordered. The bomber immediately started a steep dive, and seconds later it passed the speed of sound. “Coming up on missile launch… ready… doors should be coming open….”

“Won’t happen,” Patrick said. “You didn’t reissue the attack command.”

“Another glitch?” Rebecca moaned.

“It’s not a glitch,” Masters said. “The computer is programmed not to remember attack commands in case of a computer malfunction. They have to be reissued to be sure the computer doesn’t execute a bogus attack command.”

“Hold on a second,” Rebecca said. “We’d better let this one go until we—”

But at the same time, Daren was already talking to the computer: “Vampire, attack bandit one,” he ordered.

“I said hold on a second!” Rebecca shouted. She reached forward, grasped the control stick, and squeezed the paddle switch. Instantly she felt the pressure of the flight controls in her hands. “I’ve got the aircraft!”

“Rebecca, let the VC take the aircraft back,” Daren said.

“Hey, it’s ‘General’ to you, mister!” she shot back. “And no one tells me what to do on my aircraft, especially not barely qualified navigators sitting on the ground!

“Now, in case you boys haven’t noticed, in case you were too busy gawking over your computers, we were on a five-degree, nose-low descent, going Mach one point two, about ten seconds before going below the emergency- descent altitude for this area and fifteen seconds from dying in a smoking hole in the earth. The plane is trying to kill us, and you’re arguing over computer logic.”

“Rebecca, this is our first test,” Patrick said. “Let’s let the system work so we can flush out the bugs. Let it —”

“ ‘Flush out the bugs’? How many lives are you willing to risk to ‘flush out the bugs’?” Rebecca retorted. “This is not my job, General! You may have spent the past several years stuck on the lake ‘flushing out bugs’ in new, untested, and potentially dangerous aircraft, but I haven’t!” Even angry as she was, Rebecca knew better than to talk about McLanahan’s previous assignment — deputy commander of the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center at Groom Lake, now known as Elliott Air Force Base. “I train hard so I can employ operational aircraft in the most effective and efficient ways possible.”

“So you’re terminating the test flight, General?” Daren Mace asked.

In response Rebecca pulled the throttles back to 80 percent power and flicked two switches on her left instrument panel to the off position — the weapons consent switch and the datalink active switch. “I’ve got the aircraft. The test is terminated. Get those incoming bandits, General.”

“Roger, AC,” Patrick responded. He wasted no time at all locking up the lead helicopter — but he found a few moments later that they were not pursuing the Pave Dasher, but rather flying toward their comrades at the UCAV crash site. “The bandits are no threat,” he announced. “Weapons safe.” He immediately called up their egress flight plan and gave Rebecca autopilot steering commands. She did not relinquish control of the aircraft until they were well out over the Arabian Sea.

The StealthHawk drone launched by Furness and McLanahan stayed in the vicinity until the Pave Dasher was safely out over the Arabian Sea and there was no sign of pursuit. By this time Pogue and Long in the second EB-1C had refueled on Diego Garcia and were back up on air patrol, guarding the salvage ship that the Pave Dasher used as a forward base. The Pave Dasher safely landed on the ship, refueled, and flew on to Diego Garcia.

In the meantime Furness and McLanahan continued slowly on toward Diego Garcia, flying more slowly than normal because they wanted their StealthHawk to stay in close formation. They had already been in the air for almost two days, and they were looking forward to downtime on the isolated tropical island in the Indian Ocean. But they had a few other tasks to perform first.

“Rebecca, let’s see if the virtual cockpit can steer the StealthHawk into docking position,” Patrick asked on intercom.

“I don’t know, Patrick. With live weapons on board, I’d rather set her down.”

“But we’re not scheduled to offload weapons on Diego. We’re just going in for crew rest, debriefing, refueling, and then we’re off again,” Patrick reminded her. “This is a good time to test it out.”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

It sounded to Patrick that Rebecca was just tired, not really objecting to a test. It also sounded as if maybe she wanted to see what else this system could do. “It’ll just be to predocking position, not all the way in the sling,” Patrick pressed. “Let’s give it a try.”

“You just can’t take no for an answer, can you, sir?” Rebecca asked derisively. Again, to Patrick, it didn’t sound like an objection. “All right, all right, do it. Just don’t knock us out of the sky, okay?”

“Okay, time for the rest of the test,” Patrick announced on the command frequency. “Reel it in, Daren.”

“Roger,” Daren Mace responded from the virtual cockpit. “Hawk One, rejoin on Vampire One, left fingertip formation.”

“Hawk One beginning rejoin with Vampire One, stop rejoin.” After a moment the StealthHawk started a rapid climb and headed toward the EB-1C Vampire.

“This is the part I can’t handle,” Rebecca said.

“It’ll work,” Patrick reassured her. He had to force down a bit of doubt in his own voice, but he was able to repeat, “It’ll work.”

It worked better than they could have imagined. The StealthHawk climbed and accelerated until it was almost at the EB-1C Vampire’s altitude, then quickly slid in until it was flying precisely two hundred feet beside Rebecca Furness’s window and fifty feet below the Vampire’s altitude. “I have the StealthHawk in sight,” she