The dream ended abruptly. Chen Lo Fann found himself staring at the bomb in the crate, numbers sliding away on the trigger device.
His grandfather had not wanted to blow up Shanghai; that was Professor Ai’s doing.
The digits drained to 1:00, then 0:59.
It would blow up in less than a minute.
Should he let it? Ai’s argument made some sense — two bombs would be impossible to ignore; the communists would have to respond.
But many innocent people would die.
Was Shanghai any different from Beijing?
Chen stared at the numbers.
:30
Bombing Shanghai was not his grandfather’s will. Chen Lee had made no secret of where the bomb was to be exploded.
The plane veered sharply to the left, shuddering as it turned, losing altitude.
Chen reached for the control. One of the characters on the fifteen-button panel read “Abort.”
He thought of his dream, but it provided no answers.
:10
If his grandfather had wanted to destroy Shanghai, he would have said so clearly, as he had made clear Beijing was his desired target.
:03
Chen Lo Fann reached to the device, ignoring the pain roaring in his chest and shoulder as he pushed the button.
Zen had the Flighthawk closing on the right wing of the 767, his targeting screen blinking yellow. He could see shadows through the windows of the plane, people moving around.
God, he thought, I’m going to kill dozens if not a hundred.
God.
What if there isn’t a bomb in that plane?
Zen had killed a fair share of people in combat, but this felt very, very different. He had no proof that there was a bomb in the airplane; Stoner had told him he thought Chen had enough material for two weapons, but that didn’t mean one was aboard the plane in front of him, or even that they had been made.
The windows seemed to grow, though this was an optical illusion. Zen pushed his nose down, the pipper just turning red.
He had his orders, lawful orders. They had come from the President himself.
What justification was that if he killed innocent men and women and children?
The pipper blinked. Zen pressed the trigger.
Three seconds later, his stream of bullets ignited one of the wing tanks of the 767.
“Both Scorpion AMRAAMs missed,” said Delaney. “I’m having trouble picking him up — the Chinese are jamming us, or trying to.”
“Hang with it,” said Dog. He checked the sitrep; they were about thirty seconds from crossing into Chinese airspace; in fact,
“Now that they know we’re here, they’re going to use our radar to home in on us,” said Delaney. “If we turn it off, they’ll have a much harder time finding us.”
“Can we follow the UAV without the radar?” asked Dog.
“No. There’s no signal coming from the ghost clone for us to follow,” said Delaney.
“Then we’re going to have to leave the radar on.”
“Fan Song radar dead ahead,” said Deci Gordon. “We’re going to fly right over it. They’ll see us.”
“Jam it when it does,” said Dog.
“Flight identified as Island Flight A101 is on fire and descending toward the ocean,” reported Zen. His voice was as cold as the computer’s synthesized tones.
“Can you get
“Those F-8s are coming for us,” warned Delaney.
“Zen, you’re going to have to shoot down the UAV,” repeated Dog.
“Roger that.”
Jennifer stared at the large screen at the front of the room. The Megafortress and its two Flighthawks were crossing into Chinese Mainland territory.
They were already being targeted by ground radars, surface-to-air missiles, interceptors — even a Megafortress couldn’t survive the onslaught.
God, she thought, let him live. Let him live.
She did love him. Even if he had failed her, she did love him.
“Jen, this is Dog,” he said to her.
“I love you,” she said, thinking it was a dream.
“The programming you uploaded earlier. Can we use it?”
It wasn’t a dream — he was talking to her. Jennifer felt her face flush deep red.
But there was no time to be embarrassed.
“You have to be within twenty miles. No, wait.” Her mind wasn’t clear. She shook her head, reached to pull her hair back behind her ear.
Nothing.
“The mother ship, you destroyed it. The UAV will be on its own. It’ll default — we may not be able to take it over.”
“How close do we have to be?”
“Twenty miles,” said Jennifer. “But listen, if it’s on default — it probably won’t deviate from its course once it’s set. But you can try it.”
“Understood. Thanks,” said Dog. “And I love you too.”
Zen had two tasks — protect the Megafortress from the F-8s, and overtake the ghost clone.
Fortunately, he had two planes.
He let the computer take
