Edge of Apocalypse (2 page)

Captain Louder knew from the silence on the radio that he was on his own--at least until he cleared the DMZ. His flight plan called for him to stay on this heading until he reached international waters over the Sea of Japan, but he didn't think his plane had enough in her to get that far. Whatever had attacked the electronics had done a number on the systems. Nothing was responding. It was like being back in an old T-2 Buckeye trainer where muscle and moxie were as important as avionics. Strictly stick-and-rudder stuff now.

"We're going to try and glide this beast in," Captain Louder informed his crew. "We're starting to lose thrust and trim, and the hydraulics are gone. Maintaining altitude and velocity will be impossible. I need work-arounds for navigation and pitch control so we don't just find ourselves floating over on the other side of the Bamboo Curtain."

His young crew dug into their task, fueled by adrenaline and Hank Williams Jr.'s bluesy ramblings. He knew he was going to get into a rash of trouble about the music when he got back to base, but it seemed to focus his crew, so what the...

Captain Louder saw them first--two North Korean fighters coming directly out of the rising sun at Mach 2.

"We got company, and they don't look happy to see us."

The two North Korean birds streaked past and started a long loop to maneuver behind the crippled American plane.

"I'm taking evasive action," Captain Louder barked. "We don't need any more surprises." He tried to maneuver the plane, but it was like walking in wet cement, each step getting harder and harder. He knew they were sitting ducks, but he couldn't worry about that now. He had to work with what he had. Besides, why would they fire on him and risk World War III?

"Their radar just painted us, sir," screamed Lieutenant Milius.

"What?"

Captain Louder was rocked.
They're targeting us? Why? Had we strayed so far off course when our navigation controls went down?

"Missile away, sir!"

A white trail of smoke corkscrewed out from behind the heat-seeking missile a mile back as it left the lead North Korean jet.

"Set the auto countermeasures!"

Lieutenant Wilson pushed the auto-set button. "Auto countermeasures failed to launch."

"Fire manually."

Wilson flipped the directional IR countermeasure switch. Then he flipped the second switch for high-heat flares to launch and hopefully detract the incoming heat-seeking missile.

"Second missile away, sir!" Lieutenant Milius's voice raised a few octaves as a second rocket streaked away from the wingtip of the Korean jet.

"Let's see if this old bucket still has a few tricks in it." Captain Louder jammed the stick as far forward as he could. The plane went into an immediate free fall as the first missile sailed harmlessly overhead.

"Second missile still tracking, sir."

The second missile was closing in on the plane's jet engines almost as quickly as the earth was coming up to meet it.

"Shutting down engines!" It was a highly risky maneuver--he may never get them started again--but he was running out of options.

"Just a few more seconds..." The captain wrenched back on the rudder trying to pull the plane out of its headlong nosedive. "I need some flaps; I need power!"

Lieutenant Wilson was furiously working over his console, trying to reroute any active circuits to give the plane one last chance to avoid a fiery collision.

"Now!" screamed the captain. Suddenly the rudder came free, slamming back hard into the captain's chest as the plane looped straight back up into the sky with a sudden burst of power from the twin jet engines.

The missile tried to correct itself, but ran out of altitude, slamming into the earth in a fiery inferno.

As the cheering died down inside the cockpit, Louder realized they had dodged one bullet only to cause a new threat. Lieutenant Wilson had managed to overload the circuitry in the fuel cells to give the engines the necessary boost they needed to restart, pulling the plane out of its free fall. But now he was out of tricks as the right turbojet belched smoke and flames.

"The electrical surge must have caused a short."

"Can you shut it down?"

"Don't think so, sir. Nothing's responding."

"How's our altitude?"

"We're not going straight down anymore, if that's what you mean, sir," said Lieutenant Milius with his characteristic dry West Texas drawl. "I guess that's a plus, sir."

Captain Louder looked at his crew. All eyes were on him waiting for inspiration. But he had none to give. He'd never lost a plane before, and he wasn't too happy about the prospect of losing this one. But he knew there was nothing else to do if they wanted to stay alive. Those two MiGs were still out there hunting them.

"We better scuttle her; not much to salvage anyway."

"The HARM might still be operational, sir," piped up Lieutenant Stewart as a sort of consolation. "Might just get lucky and hit whatever the Koreans were using to jam our electronics."

Captain Louder considered this for a second, then picked up the radio.

"Mayday! Mayday!" Captain Louder's voice crackled over the Navy fighter jets' radios; then one, two, three parachutes blossomed out from the cockpit of the crippled Prowler and floated slowly to earth.

Half a mile away, the fighter pilots looked at each other over the narrow space of air that separated their two Lightning Stealth fighters. Where was the fourth parachute? Where was the pilot?

Then they saw the MiGs coming back, circling like jackals scavenging a carcass.

One of the Korean jets pulled behind the limping American recon plane, lining up for its kill shot. Alarms started to go off inside the cockpit. The Korean pilot looked up. Too late. He never saw the Lightning Stealth or the missile that took him out.

Captain Louder saw the flash of the explosion behind him. Were the Koreans making another pass? He just needed a little more altitude to get the maximum range for the HARM to find pay dirt. He knew his own plane was history. He'd gotten his crew out, to safety, he hoped, but now he was going to get a little bit of revenge. He just needed time for one shot...

A MiG streaked overhead, twisting and turning in the morning light. Captain Louder ducked involuntarily. Then he saw what was causing all the aerial acrobatics. Two American jets screamed past. He roared in triumph, letting fly the HARM as he pulled the ejection cord.

Louder's parachute opened and suddenly everything was quiet. He watched as the HARM sped away toward the horizon seeking an unseen enemy jamming beacon somewhere on the northern edge of the demilitarized frontier. His plane disappeared over a small rise and then exploded in a muted concussion of jet fuel. The last thing he saw were twin missile plumes from the two American fighters as they homed in on the desperate North Korean fighter.

TWO

Captain Han Suk knew something was wrong even before he reached the bridge of his ship. The
Daedong
was a sleek long-range North Korean missile launcher. It was everything he had dreamed of as he went through the rigors of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea's Military Naval Academy. When he'd been a young seaman coming up through the ranks, the Korean People's Navy was considered a "brown-water navy," its ships few and small with no long-range ability, operating mainly in coastal waters and inland rivers. But with the advent of the great nuclear reawakening at the hands of their new "supreme leader," Kim Jong-un, the nation had turned its energies back to repelling the American threat and had embarked on several ambitious military enterprises. Yet unlike the other missile-launching destroyers in the North Korean navy, the
Daedong
was different in one spectacular aspect: it was designed to launch weapons of mass destruction.

The financial drain on the country, already suffering from shortages and the rumored starvation in the northern provinces, was enormous, but the benefits were incalculable. The nation's prestige as an international military power soared. After all, the imperial American menace would soon be cowed by the sight of dozens of ships along their coastlines flying the red star of North Korea.

That was the glorious future as Captain Han Suk saw it. But for now, the
Daedong
was the first that was tasked to patrol the eastern coastline of the hated United States, and he was honored to be given the task of bringing its fearsome might to the teeth of the enemy.

Still, he had reservations. Reservations he would never raise to any of his superiors, reservations he allowed himself to consider only in the few moments he had to himself, between sleep and duty.

The ship, a beautiful, fast, seaworthy triumph of Korean naval expertise, had been rushed through assembly, its production goals set to meet the date of the great leader's anniversary celebration. Though completed on time, shortcuts had been taken and materials shortchanged. The time for proper testing had been limited to get the ship into the Atlantic before the winter freeze of the Northern Arctic passage.

The captain had been able to catalogue some of the ship's shortcomings. Most pressing of which were its communication systems. The Americans had a vast array of satellite and ground station receivers utilizing the latest VLF, microwave, and laser technology to quickly communicate from anywhere in the world. For the Koreans, being out of their own territorial waters was a new experience, and no system yet existed to ensure safe, secure, consistent communication. From the moment the ship had entered the Atlantic, the Americans had been jamming its radar.

The captain was also concerned by the isolation he felt, alone in enemy waters. The
Daedong's
sister ship wouldn't be ready for another six months, so he had been tasked with the maiden voyage on his own. He knew the strict coastal territorial limits of each nation and had been sure to steer clear of any hostile shores, but he still felt vulnerable to an enemy that had occupied Korea's sovereign territory to the south for over sixty oppressive years.

All this the captain kept to himself. It was his duty to honor the flag of his beloved North Korea and to bring glory to his grateful nation and leader. It was especially important since Supreme Naval Commander Admiral Sun Tak Jeong was himself on board, to report, firsthand, on the glorious news of their triumphant voyage.

As the captain climbed the exterior gangway to the glassed-in bridge, most of the crew was down in the mess hall. As he entered the bridge he could sense something unusual, an increased agitation among the small group manning the ship's radar and controls. The normal military efficiency of his handpicked deck officers had been replaced by something he couldn't quite put his finger on. As he stepped onto the bridge, everyone snapped to attention. He let them stand there for an extra second as he took the temperature of the room. What he sensed did not reassure him. Fear.

"Back to your stations, men."

"Captain." The XO immediately stepped forward.

"Captain." The second voice came from Admiral Jeong, who emerged from the shadows at the back of the octagonal structure. The captain hadn't seen him when he came in, and his presence on the bridge this early in the morning only confirmed his worst misgivings.

"Captain, we received a coded message." The admiral held out a slip of paper for him to read. The text was brief but chilling:

2 KPA jets ambushed and shot down over sovereign Northern territory by overwhelming American occupying air forces. No provocation. No warning. Missiles launched...

"Why wasn't I told of this immediately?"

"Because I received it first," enunciated the admiral. The implications were clear. He scanned his men for a hint of betrayal. No one met his gaze.

The captain wanted to know more. "Is there any more to the message?"

"The Americans jammed our communications," volunteered the XO. "We haven't been able to reach Pyongyang since."

"If it's still there." The admiral's statement sent a shiver down the captain's spine.

"We must turn around and return home immediately to defend our beloved country and leader," said the captain.

"Isn't that what he sent us
here
to do?" Again the admiral's words shot a sickening chill through the captain.

"Admiral, no one is more aware than I of the wisdom of your long experience and knowledge. But I believe we can serve our country and our leader best by returning to join the battle at home...to repel the American invader from our beloved shores."

"I disagree."

Everyone on the bridge froze.

"The message said, 'Missiles launched,'" the admiral barked, making sure his meaning wasn't lost on anyone in the room, especially the captain.

"The message was interrupted, sir; we can't just leap to conclusions."

"The interruption wasn't here, Captain; it was in Pyongyang."

The captain felt a sting of rage, blindsided, as he turned to his XO. The XO blurted out, "I don't know, sir; we cannot confirm one way or the other yet."

"Then get me a confirmation!"

"We don't need a confirmation, Captain; we need to act."

"We
are
acting, sir."

"Like cowards with our tails between our legs!" The admiral's words echoed through the bridge.

"Do you have an order, sir?" Han Suk retorted.

"Do you need an order, Captain?" The captain remained silent. The admiral quickly turned to the firing officer. "Then here's an order. Proceed to commence prelaunch procedures..."

"Admiral?" shouted the captain.

The admiral continued, "I will transmit the nuclear authorization code--"

"Admiral!" The captain's voice was steadily rising.

The admiral snapped open a hard plastic stick revealing a coded set of numbers, then turned coldly to the captain. "I need your key, sir."

The captain stepped back.

"That
is
an order, Captain."

The captain continued to back away.

The admiral turned to the XO and said, "Give me your firearm." The XO hesitated.

"Give me your firearm!"