Revolution by Dale Brown Page B

tempted to do an override,” said Sleek Top, who could have solved the computer’s problem by designating one of the planes as primary target.
    â€œLet’s see how it does.”
    The words were barely out of Dog’s mouth when the laser fired, recording a simulated hit on Hawk One . It took nearly thirty seconds, but it recorded a fatal strike on Hawk Two as well.
    Then the fun began.
    â€œOn to test three, Colonel,” said Starship.
    â€œAnytime you’re ready, son.”
    The Flighthawks dove toward the earth. Test three was entirely free-form—Starship could do anything he wanted, short of actually hitting Boomer, of course.
    â€œTracking,” reported Sleek Top.
    Dog could see the two aircraft in the radar display; they were about a mile off his wing. They changed course and headed toward Glass Mountain, at the very edge of the test range.
    â€œWhy’s he running away?” Sleek Top asked.
    â€œHe’s not. He’s going to get lost in the ground clutter. He wants us to follow, hoping we’ll be impatient.”
    â€œAre we going to?”
    Had Dog been flying the plane, he would have: It was more macho to beat the other guy in the battle he chose. But the B-1’s computer made the right decision, at least by the playbook it had been taught—don’t get suckered into the battlefield the other guy wants you to fight. It maintained its position.
    â€œHe’s off the scope.”
    â€œMmmmm,” said Dog.
    Boomer increased the distance between itself and its adversary. Starship would be able to track his position and would soon realize that he wasn’t biting.
    What would he do then?
    â€œHere we come,” said Sleek Top. He read out the courseand heading of the first contact, Hawk One, which was streaking toward them from the west.
    â€œSo where’s the other?” asked Dog.
    â€œStill in the bushes somewhere.”
    The computer abruptly threw the plane on its left wing, plunging toward the earth—just as the second Flighthawk appeared on his screen to the east, almost directly below him.
    â€œHow the hell did he do that?”
    Dog resisted the temptation to grab the stick as the big airplane pulled to its left. Too late, Boomer ’s computer realized it had been suckered— Hawk One, flying directly behind Hawk Two so its radar profile couldn’t been seen, had snuck onto the laser ship’s tail.
    â€œBang, bang, you’re dead,” said Starship as the computer recorded a fatal blast from the Flighthawk.
    â€œDamn,” said Sleek Top.
    Actually, the computer had done very well. Only Starship’s skill—and the young man’s battle-tested cleverness—had defeated it.
    â€œWhat do you say, best two out of three?” said Sleek Top.
    â€œI have a better idea,” said Starship. “Go to manual controls.”
    That was a gauntlet Dog couldn’t resist—though he checked to make sure they still had plenty of time on the range.
    â€œYou’re on,” said the colonel, circling around as the Flighthawks disappeared again.
    â€œI’d like to see him try that again.”
    â€œHe won’t,” said Dog.
    Actually, Starship tried something similar. Having learned that he could fool most radars by flying the Flighthawks extremely close together, he lined Hawk One and Two back up and then came at Boomer from above. Dog, thinking Starship was trying to sneak one of the UM/Fs in at him off the deck—another favorite trick to avoid radar—realized what was going on a fraction of a second too late. As Hawk Two came onto his tail, he pushed his nose down, outaccelerating it before Starship could fire.
    Then he banked hard, flattened the plane out, and turned the tables on the Flighthawk as it started to recover.
    â€œFire,” he told Sleek Top calmly.
    â€œCan’t get a lock—he’s jinking and jiving too much.”
    â€œStay on him,” said