Signal Chase

“Only from space,” Ransom answered. “But when clouds block the view, our spy satellites have problems, and if the skies are clear, the enemy knows the orbital schedules. They can take cover when our space-based systems pass overhead. I convinced the Joint Chiefs and the Congressional Intelligence Oversight Committee we have something better.”

 “So you’re using stealth aircraft for low-level spy missions.” Red smiled broadly. “Congratulations. It’s about time.”

“Yep. When we’re watching, nobody can put up a building, dig a hole, move a vehicle, or deploy an army without our knowledge. We can do it day or night.” The general smirked at the image he’d painted.

“You must be using the Dark Star stealth drone.”

Ransom’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you know that?”

“I helped Universal Aerospace design it. All the specifications and requirements pointed to something like this.” Red laughed. “Bill, how long do you really think you can keep this operation under cover?”

“This is Judd Wiesel’s pet program,” Ransom said shortly. “So it had better stay top secret.”

Red drummed his long fingers on the polished wooden chair arm. “Judd Wiesel is one of several reasons why I retired. When his office stopped our cruise-missile detection project, I figured nobody was interested in defense research any more.”

“The Honorable Judd Wiesel to you. No matter what you think, he is an undersecretary of defense now. He told everybody you were full of crackpot ideas.”

“So I heard.” Red rolled his eyes. “My industry friends ignored him. Never could understand his motives.”

Ransom relaxed back into his chair. “He’s probably forgotten the whole thing by now.”

“Maybe not. Did you know the Pentagon tried to stop my publisher?” Red had written and edited two books filled with equations, schematic diagrams, and pictures of wiggly lines that anyone who wanted to know about ultra-wideband radar would be able to figure out.

“I heard, and those books are why I need you.” Ransom walked to the wall of computer screens.

“There must be other experts. Why me?”

The general smiled. “Because you’ve got some special qualifications my technical staff doesn’t have.”

Red sighed and whispered, “Ah, those qualifications.”

“Not many people have an engineering background and special-operations experience. You may need both.”

 “You should know I’m out of practice and a bit old for that nonsense.” Red guessed Ransom had discovered his single raid with the Special Forces. His left shoulder still ached from the East German bullet he had taken while stealing an enemy radar set almost twenty-five years earlier.

“Here’s why I need you.” Ransom tapped a spot on one of the maps. “Three days ago a Dark Star drone disappeared right there.”

“In Northern Manchuria? What happened?”

“We don’t know. We lost the satellite control link during the flight.”

“Strange. The drone should have returned to base using the emergency recovery system.” Red recalled that when communications were interrupted for more than ten minutes, Robopilot, the Dark Star aircraft flight control computer, would automatically complete the mission and return safely.

“It had happened before, so that’s what we thought, too. But the plane never returned to our operating base at Birobidzhan.” Ransom indicated a town along the Trans-Siberian Railway. “It’s right here, just north of the Amur River and west of Khabarovsk.”

“Couldn’t you find it with the satellite search and rescue locator?” Red asked. A special transmitter activated by passing satellites was part of the Dark Star’s electronics. Only destruction would stop the system from responding to the appropriate radio signal.

“Quit just after we lost communications.” Ransom twisted his hands and stared at the blue carpet. “We assume it self-destructed. Nothing will remain but aluminum flakes and the engines.”

“Any telemetry indications about what caused it?” Red knew the command center received constant reports about every system in the aircraft.

“None. Everything was perfect.” Ransom shook his head, mystified. “According to our satellite reports, no Chinese aircraft were near it.”

Red moved closer to the computer display. “I’d guess the Chinese haven’t built a stealth fighter yet, so they didn’t intercept it,” he mused, half to himself. “Then what happened?”

“My DATC team concluded it was some unknown system failure. The Pentagon concurred, end of story.”

“At least there were no captured pilots, like Gary Powers after the U-2 spy plane incident,” he said. “But I’m surprised the Chinese haven’t raised a stink. I would have expected this in the headlines. Sounds as if folks on both sides want to whitewash this business.”

Red realized it would cause a major crisis in Washington if the twisted remains of a Dark Star appeared in Tiananmen Square. The president had promised Beijing to halt all spy flights in exchange for access to Chinese markets.

Ransom’s shoulders slumped. “I think we have just been lucky. The plane might have crashed in some remote place, and they don’t know yet. We’re getting damage control ready, just in case.”

“Maybe this exp