AMERICA ONE - NextGen (Book 5) Page 14
“SB-I, you have their heat trails on your screens?” Ryan asked in English over the Russian channel.
“Affirmative, all four engines of all six aircraft, over,” Penny Pitt replied. She was watching the incoming aircraft through the infrared and heat cameras aboard the shuttle.
“Antonov Alfa November 12s, Russian origin, you have ten seconds to turn your aircraft to starboard on a heading of 270 degrees, or we will shoot you down,” said Ryan into his mobile radio, then he passed it over to Igor, who said the order twice in Russian.
said Penny Pitt.
“SB-I, lock onto the lead aircraft and take out its outer starboard engine. Maybe that will change their minds. Wait for my order, over,” ordered Ryan, and Igor again translated it into Russian.
“All six aircraft making a beeline for the ground. I assume they are hoping to hide, descending through altitude 8,900 feet, laser locked, Ryan.”
“Fire,” responded Ryan.
“Three blasts at half power, all fired…..engine or something hit on second blast, I saw a small heat explosion, something weird on my radar, Ryan. Dozens of minor heat sources are falling out the rear of all six aircraft. Looks like anti-missile debris or something,” Penny responded in Matt.
“SB–I, second lead aircraft, take out its outer starboard engine,” continued Ryan in English.
“Confirm lock on second aircraft’s outer starboard,” replied Penny back in English, a few seconds later.
Again Ryan ordered fire, and this time once Penny had said that she had seen an explosion, the six aircraft began turning onto a new heading of 270 degrees, which would take them westwards and out of Ryan’s restricted zone. What worried Ryan, Jonesy, all the Air Force pilots, and VIN Noble was that the aircraft had turned only 70 miles from the airfield. Even then, they all breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem the Russians wanted to nuke the area.
“All six aircraft now at 5,000 feet, the formation has slowed to just under 300 knots, and they will be out of our area in about ten minutes. I’m heading over the horizon,” said Michael Pitt in Matt as they went off the air.
Thirty minutes later, and with the six aircraft now out of Ryan’s area and heading north, Captain Pete returned above their part of the planet. He had heard the conversation through SB-I’s radio.
“America One, we could have an attack from the Russians,” said Ryan in Matt to a much smaller group of people still thinking what or why the Russians, who knew they were being spoken to, had kept radio silence, had ejected something over the desert, and then done as ordered and headed out of the area. “America One, increase altitude rapidly from 200 to 350 miles.”
What had made Jonesy and the rest of the former U.S. Air Force pilots really think, was that the aircraft hadn’t continued in the direction of Nigeria, but had headed back the way they had come.
“Copy that Desert Control,” replied Captain Pete. “All six aircraft heading out of Libya, currently over Benghazi, and on the opposite heading I saw them arrive on. I saw the six aircraft two orbits prior, heading southeast over Istanbul. On the second orbit I picked them up heading over the Med. I didn’t think it necessary to warn you on the first pass, over.”
“Roger that,” responded Ryan. “The aircraft dropped something. Can you tighten down your cameras, especially the heat cameras to an area 70 to 80 miles northwest of the base around the following latitude and longitude coordinates sent to us from SB-I?” Ryan sent him the coordinates from the control room’s main computer.
“Wait one,” replied Captain Pete, and he went off the air for a good ten minutes. “Confirm heat sources, possibly human beings between 75 and 77 miles from your airfield. I count 200 heat sources, moving on foot and slowly joining up. They are not heading in any direction yet, over.”
“Copy that. Let us know what is happening on your next orbit, out,” said Ryan. “So what are we going to do with 200 Russian paratroopers?” Ryan asked. “Igor?”
“Well, Captain Pete said that they seem to be on foot, not mobile. Mr. Noble, how long does it take a special soldier to walk 70 miles in the desert?” he asked, not being a military man.
“Twenty miles a day, maybe 25 if they walk two shifts a day, say, seven to eight hours per shift,” said VIN. We worked out in Force Recon that if walking through tough desert-sand conditions, an extremely fit soldier could cover about 2 miles an hour. With a hard-packed surface, few inclines, 3 to 4 miles an hour, and flat conditions with hard pack, say, 5 miles an hour. Any faster than that, the hours need to be reduced. They will be heavy with food and water. So at best, with an extremely flat, hard surface, seventy-five miles could be done in 40 to 48 hours. Anybody know the conditions out there northwest of us?”
“America One to Ground Control, second possible attack. Twenty-eight aircraft have just taken off from Karachi in India. I think I saw them three passes ago heading over the China/India/Pakistan border. These guys are larger and faster, jets for sure cruising at 470 knots, climbing through 20,000 feet, distance from you 2,840 miles. You have about 5 hours. Any ideas, Jonesy, Allen?”
“As soon as we land two shuttles, all hell breaks loose. Igor, how long before SB-III and SB-II are ready for launch?”
“SB-III, four to five hours. SB-II, twelve hours for full fuel, boss.” Igor replied.
“Air Force pilots, what long-range aircraft could the Chinese throw at us?” Ryan asked the men and women around him.
“Xian H-6 or IIyushin II-86,” said Allen Saunders.
“The second is Russian, not Chinese,” said Igor.
“Correct, Igor,” smiled Allen Saunders, “but the Chinese have used several types of Russian aircraft and helicopters for decades now, and it looks like nobody has reinvented the wheel producing many new aircraft. Even the United States Air Force used a couple of II-86s at one time for fighting forest fires. When we left Earth ten years ago, all these aircraft were still fairly new. These could be unmanned aircraft, but I don’t believe they have any other modifications, apart from more modern weapons. I can tell that by the speed they are flying.”
“Allen, I’d say H-6s more likely. Longer range, but let me do my math. I don’t see how they could fly here, bomb or give us a missile strike, and return to Pakistan or India. Just too far, even for an H-6.” Jones did his math. “Say, loaded with missiles, they could return to Tehran. With heavier bombs, more like Syria, a far shorter distance. If I remember my foreign aircraft, I think the H-6 had a thousand miles more range than the Russian II-86s.”
“So they are expecting to either bomb us or throw missiles at us?” Ryan asked.
“Only the Japanese were kamikazes, so bombs, standoff missiles, or possibly a laser, but not much else,” Jonesy replied.
“Can we stop a standoff missile attack?” Ryan then asked.
“Not at close range between 200 and 150 miles,” Jonesy added with Allen nodding his agreement.
“Their most modern CM-802 AKG missiles were about a year away from production when I left Nellis. If I remember, they had about a 180 mile range and packed a 300 to 400 high-explosive warhead nuke or high explosive, I believe. The earlier models were meant for ships, and their latest, the AKG, were designed to hit land targets. I just hope they don’t have nukes aboard. With 28 aircraft, two to six weapons per bomber, that would be the end of us. I don’t believe they will risk nukes. The whole world would retaliate. I’d say we must wait and destroy their aircraft as soon as they enter our airspace, even if they are going to nuke us,” Allen suggested. Everyone nodded to that one.
Ryan called up Israel, then Tripoli, and got the same answer. Nobody was going to fight Ryan’s war this time. The Israelis said that there was nothing they could do if the aircraft didn’t fly over their territory. The Libyans had a business friendship with Moscow and Beijing, and didn’t want to take part. Australia was too far away to get fighters into the area, and the ground troops were of no use at all. Therefore, Ryan had to fight this battle alone.
“What is our best
defense against the incoming aircraft?” Ryan asked.
“The shuttles with shields, and laser fire,” replied Jonesy simply. Allen and Maggie agreed with that one.
“We can use one shuttle for defense, but I think taking our new civilians out of any possible fire fight is extremely important,” added Jonesy. Ryan and the others nodded, and Ryan ordered Igor to go and prepare the two shuttles for separate missions.
“What can we do about the Russians on the ground?” Ryan then asked.
“The two Bradleys are out there and fully armed,” said VIN. “We check out the depth of the sand, and the terrain at dawn, and prepare to repel invaders from orbit as well as here around the crater. The incoming aircraft will be here before dawn, the men on the ground in a day or three’s time. We are extremely lucky that this is not a coordinated attack.”
Jonesy’s father and Bob Mathews entered. Both looked tired but happy. “We have hit something solid,” Bob happily said to Ryan and the crew, not knowing what was about to happen.
Ryan told them everything, including that Bob would have to wait for daybreak before the hard surface could be checked out. Bob wanted to continue, and it was suggested that the area be cleared even more. Both men happily exited, but not before Jonesy told his father that they were launching in four hours, and the entire Jones family would be on the next flight out.
As Michael Pitt and Captain Pete orbited hour after hour, they gave Ryan and his crew the latest information. The men on the ground walked now in long lines, marching toward the base seventy miles away. The incoming aircraft were slow, on a low cruise, still heading in the general direction of the base, and would reach the area three hours before dawn.
Allen and Jamie Saunders were happy to depart for this new op. They had enough fuel on board, the shield extended, and they took off two hours before the contact time. Now understanding how the shuttle responded inside the shield, Allen and Jamie flew the shuttle 320 miles east of the airfield, within ten miles of the Red Sea, and just within the Egyptian side of the border with Sudan. Allen found a flat and quiet piece of desert, set SB-II down on the sand, and waited. His only radio contact was with the craft orbiting in space.
An hour later Captain Pete, in English, warned the incoming aircraft. There was no response on any of the frequencies tried. The aircraft had maintained radio silence and were now over the Red Sea, and only 50 miles from the African coast.
Ryan’s main dilemma was that the flight could still have nothing to do with him; but 28 bombers in formation, that was a strike force. If Ryan wanted to stay within international law, he could not really attack aircraft unless they had first violated his no-fly zone. At further than 150 miles, they could release missiles aimed for the airstrip, then turn away back out of danger.
Apart from the two Dewars of liquids in holes in the desert soil, the only supplies he still had on the airfield was the building equipment the Americans had left behind, the new empty hangars and the runway itself. Even the two Bradleys and the two jeeps had been driven to the new supply site fifteen miles from the airfield.
As long as any missiles weren’t aimed at the crater, and they weren’t nuclear, there wouldn’t be much loss, other than if the runway was damaged, the shuttles could not reenter unless the runway was repaired or Jonesy attempted a full shield reentry. Maybe the time had come, Ryan reckoned.
Captain Pete had monitored the incoming formation of aircraft on his pass. All 28 aircraft were flying at 45,000 feet and at 490 knots, first flying along the borders of Saudi Arabia and Oman, and then the Saudi Arabia and Yemen border. Nobody had responded to the flight of foreign aircraft.
Once they reached the Red Sea, their course changed north northwest.
“They are certainly flying on high cruise,” said Jonesy, already in SB-III. He and Maggie were helping the last of the passengers in one by one. It was a full flight. All the new crewmembers were aboard, which filled up the crew compartment in the forward hold. Five of the adults had the smallest children seat-belted on their laps, which had given room for Suzi, Dr. Nancy and Mars Noble to join the full flight. Jonesy’s mother was sitting in the front row with Saturn, Suzi, Dr. Nancy, and the U.S. President’s daughter.
Excitement abounded in the forward crew compartment. In the aft hold was half a ton of cargo; equipment, mostly new electronics and computers for the mother ship. Joseph Jones was happy with Mars Noble to take the two rear jump seats in the cockpit. Jonesy’s exhausted father was not going to miss this flight with his son flying for anything in the world.
Commander Joot, alone in his cargo-loaded craft, and Elder Roo, with Max Burgos as copilot in the second heavy Matt craft full with a cargo of ethanol, took off as Maggie readied the spacecraft on the ground, idling and warming the thrusters. Both Maggie and Jonesy had done a vertical takeoff now dozens of times, and it was as usual as a commercial flight, which this one was.
Michael Pitt was just about to head over the western horizon as the 28 aircraft flew over the Africa Continent, 50 miles south of Allen Saunders and into Sudanese airspace.
To the bridge aboard America One watching everything down below, this flight was certainly trying to stay hidden. Allen Saunders took off with his shield extended and stealthily caught up to the bombers several thousand feet above him just before they entered Libya. They were descending through 28,000 feet and would pass a couple of miles in front of him at 20,000 feet in about ten minutes. He certainly wasn’t on their radars.
Nobody would see either of the Matt craft, as their shields would hide them until space.
Ryan was unsure whether the incoming aircraft would train their weapons on SB-III when she took off, but Jonesy with the shield already extended was heading over the crater lip to return the 30 miles to the airstrip. Ryan didn’t want to let anybody watching know where the shuttles were based.
Jonesy landed ten minutes later, retracted the shield and readied for launch as Michael Pitt shouted “missile launch” into his microphone. “Missile launch from all 28 aircraft. I’m counting about six per aircraft, three from each wing. That is 168 missiles coming your way, Jonesy. Missiles at about Mach .09 and incoming fast. ETA 16 minutes at current speed. Aircraft turning away, I say again, all aircraft turning away, over.”
“SB-I, SB-II, laser as many missiles as you can. SB-III, get out of there,” shouted Ryan.
“SB-III launching now. Goodbye Earth and nasty citizens of Earth. Until next time,” said Jonesy calmly, and with his father behind him, launched at 100 percent power, and gritting his teeth, lifted out of danger.
Got one, two…three,” said Penny Pitt. “There are just too many, and they are going down to hug the terrain. It is not easy to get a lock on them…four kills…five.”
“One, 2…3…4…6…7….9…10 kills. Laser on 50 second pause,” said Jamie Saunders right behind the missiles heading to ground level. It was easy for her to lock onto their rear heat signatures only a couple of miles behind as Allen saw numerous explosions ahead and below them. Both shuttles had their lasers cooling and already locked onto three or four missiles. The lasers couldn’t fire fast enough.
“Seventeen hits, fifty second laser pause, all 28 aircraft flying east past my position. Missiles now hugging the desert. It’s getting harder for me as well, over,” added Penny.
“Three minutes until we come over the horizon,” added Michael Pitt.
“Two more 50-second opportunities and we are done,” added Penny.
Within the three minutes, she blasted 17 more before SB-I headed out of sight. By this time, Jonesy was at 69,000 feet, already vertical, hanging upside down and heading into the upper atmosphere.
“Prepare for incoming,” shouted Ryan to anybody in earshot. Igor was controlling Jonesy, Bob Mathews was still digging in his hole, and there were several technicians in the crater who had decided to enter the operations room, grab a coffee, and with VIN, listen to the excitement. If any, even one of the warheads, were nuclear, it didn’t really matter anyway.
Fifty-eight was Jamie Saunders’s last tally before the first missile, heading in at 300 feet above the desert and just under the speed of sound, hit the ground several hundred feet from the runway and buildings. The blast blew a crater twenty feet deep into the hard desert sand. Then came a crescendo of noise that hit the crew in the crater a few minutes later when over seventy 400-pound warheads turned Ryan’s new airfield into scrap. The two remaining Dewars filled with liquid hydrogen were hit, and massive fireballs erupted into the night sky. Jonesy could see the explosions hanging upside down nearly 1,000 miles away.
To the east, the night sky above the crater looked like daylight as the men sat there waiting to be exterminated. With nothing much to do, they held their breath until the final explosion happened less than 20 seconds after the first one. Then they all sighed with relief; they were still alive.
Captain Pete missed the fireworks by ten minutes, but still saw tiny fires raging in the Sahara as China launched 200 cubes into space.
Penny Pitt, her laser ready and now directly over China, pushed her weapon to full strength, and with Ryan’s blessing, began flattening the area from where the cubes had taken off. Once the dozen or so sites had fires raging as big as in the Sahara, she began in Beijing, hitting one government building, then another.
It didn’t take long before a dozen nuclear missiles this time headed up from China. A minute later a second dozen, and then a third dozen erupted from silos all over the large country. She calmly turned her attention to the several computer coordinates from where the missiles had launched from, and blasted the launch sites before heading over the horizon. She must have hit something, as there was a massive fireball of an explosion ten times the size of the blaze on the desert, and in the middle of nowhere, as she headed over the horizon.