Chapter 65
High above the Taiwan Strait, Ahab savored his moment of triumph.
The fireball marking the destruction of the American tanker burned like a supernova in the dark sky.
He watched it fade and then allowed himself to enjoy the satisfaction.
He’d done everything he set out to do, with one final act left to unfold.
“We’re being painted by multiple acquisition radars,” the copilot announced.
“American fighter aircraft inbound from three directions,” the laser technician said. “I count…forty-one targets in total.”
Ahab looked at the computer display. It was marrying the radar image to the laser tracking system. Swarms of yellow triangles were coming from the north, south, and east. All of them converging on Saber One’s course as it headed for the Chinese coast. It was almost too good to be true.
“By all means,” he said. “Come and get us.”
The weapons technician seemed less pleased. “Forty-one aircraft calculates to at least a hundred and sixty-four air-to-air missiles. We need to hit these fighters before they get in firing range.”
“Where would the fun be in that?” Ahab said.
“We could be overwhelmed by a mass attack,” the technician insisted.
Ahab had faith in the computer control system. It would pick the targets and vaporize them effectively. It had done so in countless simulations. “Bloody their noses a little bit,” he said. “Pick out the nearest aircraft and set them on fire.”
The technician chose eight targets and instructed the computer to take them out.
Ahab stayed his hand. “Not all at once,” he insisted. “We need them to think they have a chance.”
With a tense look on his face, the technician adjusted the program and chose an initial target. He picked the closest American fighter, a fourth-generation F-16. One of the jets that was supposed to refuel from the actual tanker. He pressed the initiate button. “Firing now.”
The strange high-pitched whine that accompanied the laser—created by the generators and the power draw—penetrated their headphones. The tone was more like an electronic malfunction on a speaker than the report from a weapon of war. But thirty miles away the F-16 exploded upon contact.
Seconds later the laser fired again, obliterating the F-16’s wingman. Before a full minute was up, five American aircraft were plummeting in flames toward the ocean.
Ahab chortled with glee. “They’ll never turn back now.”