“Reverse course, Motorboat,” Franken said. “Full countermeasures.” To Reeves he said, “Nab that sucker, Linds!” Lindsey Reeves had already switched from slaving mode to the laser radar, and the system instantly picked up the two incoming SA-10 missiles. “Got the SAMs,” she said. “Attack SA-10 missiles Dragon.”

“Warning, plasma generator number three not ready ” the computer spoke.

“What does that mean, ‘not ready’?” Franken asked. “We’ve gotten several warning messages from about a dozen different components of the laser,” Reeves said, “but I’ve bypassed them all. I think the plasma generator vessels are becoming too hot, both from the heat of the fusion reaction and the stray radiation leakage impregnating the aluminum. The magnetic fields can’t contain all the particles, and it weakens the reactor vessel.”

Franken checked the supercockpit display. “We’ve got no choice now, Linds,” he said. “If a reactor fails, we jettison it and we’re done for the day.”

“I agree,” Reeves said. To the computer she said, “Deactivate generator number three, reset warning, and attack Dragon.”

“Laser commit, stop attack,” the computer replied. “Caution, plasma generator number one overtemp, stop attack” Computer cautions did not require an override: Lindsey simply remained silent, and the computer processed the attack. Seconds later both SA-10 missiles were destroyed, and Reeves turned her attention back to the saved set of coordinates for the SA-10 command vehicle. “C’mon, baby,” she said. “Show me what you got.” The laser radar system couldn’t fully compensate for the massive atmospheric distortion caused by shooting down through the atmosphere—but this time, it didn’t need to. The plasma laser beam could only focus down to two feet in diameter—but with over two megawatts’ worth of power, it was enough. The laser instantly burned through the dielectric fiberglass panel covering the face of the phased array radar, melted several hundred emitter arrays underneath, then burned clear through the thin metal radar structure. The beam stayed on target long enough to weaken the steel supporting the radar, and the radar collapsed backward against the command cab, knocking the entire unit out of commission.

“Oh, man,” Lindsey gasped. “The radar’s down ... I mean, it’s down, on top of the command cab. We just destroyed a ground vehicle with a laser fired from an airplane.”

As the MV-22 continued toward its objective—the presidential palace in Tripoli—the AL-52 Dragon moved farther west until it was in a patrol orbit north of Tripoli. There were fighters everywhere, but Lindsey dared not use the laser to shoot at any of them—she had no idea what it would do. She could do nothing but stay in orbit, watch the last aircraft in their attack formation make its way in to the target, and wait.

But minutes later, just as the MV-22 had lined up for its final few miles to its objective, Lindsey expanded her supercockpit display and took another laser radar snapshot. “I’ve got a formation of two enemy aircraft, MiG-25s, twelve o’clock, thirty miles from Motorboat and closing, descending, speed eight hundred forty knots,” Lindsey reported. “I’ve got a second formation of aircraft right behind them—my God, they’re MiG-29s, four MiG-29s. I’m not sure if the laser will get them all.”