Read Online Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06 by Fatal Terrain (v1.1) - Free Book Online Page A

to
Mauer’s attack computer, and he again locked onto the bomber and began his
pursuit— twelve o’clock ,
nine miles . . . eight. . .
                 HIGH TERRAIN, high terrain! Sharon cried into the intercom. Mauer yanked back
on the stick to crest a sharply rising razorback ridgeline directly ahead.
Jesus, this was nuts —trying to
concentrate on the pursuit while dodging hills and ridges was going to get him
killed. But as soon as he lowered the nose again, the bandit was dead in his
sights, straight ahead.
                 “Arm
Sidewinder,” Mauer ordered. “Open weapon doors.”
                 ROGER, AIM-9 ARMED, WARNING, MISSILE ARMED
. . . WARNING, WEAPON doors opening. As soon as the door opened, the AIM-9
Sidewinder missile’s seeker head slaved to the attack computer’s steering
signal, saw the hot dot from the bandit’s exhaust, and locked onto it, matching
its seeker azimuth exactly with the attack computer’s target bearing, aim-9 locked on, Sharon reported.
                 “AIM-9
shoot,” Mauer ordered.
                 Aim-9 shoot, aim-9 shoot, aim-9 away. The
smaller, faster Sidewinder fired from the weapons bay in a flash, wobbled a bit
as it stabilized itself in the air, then homed straight and true. . . .
                Flares! Mauer saw them immediately—a
line of white dots hanging in the sky, hot and very bright even over six miles
away. The radar-lock square jutted sharply left as the bandit made its
customary first left break, but the decoy flares hung in the sky straight ahead
for several seconds before winking out. The Sidewinder wobbled as if it were
trying to decide between locking onto the decoys or turning to chase the
bomber. It decided on the decoys, then changed its mind as the decoys began to
extinguish. But just as it made a sharp left turn to pursue, the bomber ejected
more flares and jinked right, and the Sidewinder locked solidly on the new,
brighter, closer decoys and would not let go. The Sidewinder exploded
harmlessly a full five miles behind the bomber.
                 One
missile to go, Mauer reminded himself, as he turned to pursue. He had closed to
within four miles of the bandit, and now he was straining hard to see what in
hell it was. The virtual display made it easy to focus on where the target was,
no matter which way it jinked. It was small, probably an F-16, judging by its
size and its maneuverability, or maybe some experimental job. . . .
                 A
cruise missile! Mauer got a good look at it as it made another hard right turn,
heading right for the airfield—a goddamn cruise missile! No wonder it was so
maneuverable—there was no pilot on board to get knocked unconscious by hard G
turns. It was the first cruise missile he had ever heard of that ejected decoy
flares, could obviously detect enemy fighters’ and missiles’ radars, and could
attack multiple targets and even reattack targets it missed the first time
around! It was a little bit bigger than a Tomahawk or standard Air-Launched
Cruise Missile, but it had no wings—it was almost like a big fat flying
surfboard. When it was straight and level, it was almost impossible to see.
                 “One-One,
bogeydope,” Mills radioed.
                 “One-One
has a single cruise missile, and it’s haulin’ ass,” Mauer said, grunting
against the G-forces as he turned hard left again to stay behind the missile.
“I got one heater left. C’mon in and nail this bastard if my last shot misses.”
The time for being macho was over, Mauer thought— this cruise missile had beat
him pretty good, and it looked as if it was going to take both of the F-22s
working together to nail it.
                 “One-Two
has a judy.”
                 “Take
the shot,” Mauer said. “I’ll try to nail it in the ass while you shoot it in
the face.”
                 Mills
didn’t