Fortunes of War by Stephen Coonts Page A

Bob Cassidy replied. “And the human eyeball isn’t that good. What we’re going to need is Sky Eye. The satellites are going to have to find these guys and tell us where they are.”
    â€œI’ll talk to the National Security people.”
    â€œAnd we’re going to need something to protect our bases. We won’t have the planes to stay airborne around the clock. We need an equalizer.”
    â€œSentinel,” John said, and wrote the word on his legal pad.
    â€œExplain.”
    â€œSentinel is an automated weapon—highly classified, of course. You deliver it to a site, turn it on, and leave it. When it detects electromagnetic energy on a preset frequency, it launches a small, solid-fuel, antiradiation missile that seeks out the emitter. The missiles have some memory capability, so they can track targets that cease emissions—the capability of these new computer chips is really amazing. Anyway, as I recall, Sentinel has a magazine capacity of forty-eight missiles. The missiles have a range of about sixteen miles.”
    â€œElectrical power will be a big problem in Siberia.”
    â€œSentinel has rechargable solar cells. All you have to do is reload the magazine occasionally.”
    â€œSo Zero pilots are going to be down to their Mach I, Mod Zero eyeballs.”
    â€œSentinel will definitely encourage them to leave their radars turned off.”
    â€œNasty.” Cassidy grinned.
    â€œDoesn’t the F-22 have the new camouflage skin that changes colors based on the background?” Eatherly asked after they discussed logistics for several minutes.
    â€œThe newest ones do,” Cassidy told him. “Active skin camouflage, or smart skin. The skin has to be installed on the assembly line.”
    â€œHow good is it?”
    â€œIt really works. Against any kind of neutral background, such as clouds or ocean or haze, the plane is extremely difficult to locate visually when it’s more than a couple hundred yards away. Some people can pick it up with their peripheral vision, sometimes. Occasionally you see movement out of the corner of your eye, you know it’s there, and yet when you look directly at it, you can’t pick it up. It’s scary.”
    Eatherly made a note. “Talk to me about maintenance. How many people, how many spares?”
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    After a morning of this, John Eatherly and Cassidy went back into the chairman’s office for lunch. As they ate bean soup and corn bread, Eatherly briefed the general. He ran through proposed solutions to every major problem: personnel, logistics, maintenance, weapons and fuel supply, early warning.
    â€œSo what is your recommendation?” the general asked Cassidy when Eatherly was finished.
    â€œIsn’t there any way to prevent this war from happening, sir?” Cassidy was staring into the bean soup. He had no appetite.
    â€œThe politicos say no.” Stanford Tuck shrugged. “War happens because a whole society screws itself up to it—it isn’t just the fault of the politicians at the top. That society will quit only when the vast majority believes their cause is hopeless.”
    â€œSo the F-22 outfit is supposed to help convince them. Show them the error of their ways.”
    â€œI want you to nibble at ’em, worry ’em, shoot down a Zero occasionally, target their air transports, convince the Japanese that they’ve bitten off more than they can chew.”
    â€œSir, the Japanese have active ECM that makes their plane invisible. Athena. They will blow us from the sky unless we use the satellites to find the Zeros and point them out to us.”
    â€œThe White House says no.”
    â€œI am not taking Americans to Russia to be slaughtered. Without Sky Eye, there is no way. I want no part of it.”
    Stanford Tuck helped himself to another spoonful of soup, then put the spoon down beside the bowl. “You’ve been in the military for twenty-some