Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06 Read Online Free PDF

it
breaks lock when we lose the datalink ... it will miss perhaps by not more than
a few dozen meters.”
                 “Then
I think we will get all the telemetry we need,” Sun said. “Continue the test.”
                 The
closer the M-9 got to its target, the more detail they could see. Through
occasional spats of static and one short nine-second datalink break as the
warhead separated from the booster section, Sun could start to make out large
buildings, then piers and wharves, then finally individual buildings. Through
long hours of study, Sun knew exactly what he was looking at, and as soon as
the system allowed him to do so, he locked the warhead on the main barracks
building, a two-story wooden frame structure just a few hundred meters from the
northwestern shoreline of Pratas Island. Sun knew that approximately a thousand
rebel Nationalist soldiers were stationed on Pratas Island , manning and servicing the antiair and
-ship sites—and he knew that about one hundred Taiwanese soldiers would be
asleep right now in those barracks.
                 “Twenty
seconds to impact,” the tech reported. “Uh . . . sir, should we lock on one of
the target barges now? ”
                 “Captain,
if you dare question my actions ever again, you will be commanding a garbage
detail in Inner
Mongolia province
by tomorrow night,” Sun Ji Guoming said in a low voice. “As far as you are
aware, I locked the missile warhead’s targeting sensor on the primary target
barge, and you saw it lock on perfectly as expected. Is that clear, Captain?”
                “Yes, sir," the technician responded. He watched in horror as the
war-head careened down out of the sky, faster and faster, never wavering— it
had held lock all the way until it passed below datalink coverage. The last
thing they saw on the TV monitor was the broad, flat roofline of the barracks
building. Even if the warhead started to drift, which it didn’t, the warhead
would not have missed that building full of sleeping soldiers. The warhead had
no explosive charge on board, only concrete ballast to simulate a 300-pound
high-explosive warhead, but such a large object smashing home at over 900 miles
an hour was going to do major damage even without a major explosion. The
devastation would be catastrophic—and the rebel Nationalists would never know
what hit them.
                 “Excellent
test, comrades, excellent,” Admiral Sun announced. “Secure all stations.” He
remembered the urgent message from Beijing just then, and fished the
messageform out of his flight suit pocket and read as he continued, “Section
leaders, I expect full reports on any difficulties to me before we land. Pilot,
let us head back to base and—”
                 He
stopped, dumbfounded, as he read. No, no, this was impossible!
                 “Cancel
that last order, pilot,” Sun shouted. “All available speed to Juidongshan naval
base. What is our time en route?”
                 “Stand
by, sir,” the pilot responded. Sun was in a daze as the pilot, copilot, and
flight engineer pulled out charts and started computing the new flight planning
information. The three officers looked at each other nervously; then the pilot
turned to the navy admiral lower class and said, “Sir, the naval base at
Juidongshan does not have a runway long enough to accommodate this aircraft.
The closest base that can safely accommodate us is Shantou , ETE, five-zero minutes. We can have a
helicopter standing by to take you to Juidongshan, ETE—”
                 “Pilot,
I did not ask you to fly to Shantou ,” Sun said angrily. “Are the runways and taxiways at Juidongshan
stressed to take this aircraft?”
                The copilot looked up the
information in the airman’s flight supplement manual and replied, “Yes, sir,
the runways can handle us at minimum gross weight. The