Edge of Tomorrow

by Wolf Wootan

  “Yesterday, I programmed some satellite passes over the target area. There should be a digital file in our central system at Langley named Tabriz.sat.08032001. I want Carl and John to pull up the building and analyze it for structural weaknesses—soft spots. I need to know how to knock it down with the least expenditure of ordinance—and fast. John, put the building on the big screen when you have it created in this system. There will be IR and X-ray readings in the file to help in your analysis. Mike and Sam, start plotting a flight path to and from the target. I want to maximize stealth and safety. Avoid known SAM sites. Also, check the weather for today and tomorrow.”

  “I’ve got a model built,” said John T. Blanchard, the Offensive Weapons System Specialist. The image of a four-story building appeared on the big screen behind Hatch. Syd looked at it carefully as Hatch continued to give instructions to the team. She was certain that she had seen the building before, but from quite a distance. There was a lot of vacant land around it, the perimeter of which was encircled by chain-link fence with razor wire on top. She had gone there once with her sniper rifle in an attempt to kill Hamad. She had failed because of the distance from the building to the closest cover.

  After Hatch finished his assignments, he reintroduced Syd to the group, this time giving a more detailed description of her background and capabilities. He knew his orders would not be questioned, but he wanted the team to accept Syd because of her abilities and training, and the essential knowledge she brought to the mission. When he finished, the team members all looked at her and gave her thumbs up. They now looked at her with great respect. She felt pleased that Hatch had done that—she wanted to be accepted by the team. She also wanted to spend some time with Shirley McNally and pick her brain on emergency medical procedures aboard Shadow-3.

  The building on the large screen was rotating slowly as they discussed weaknesses in the structure, and best attack lanes. Syd’s mind wandered to the night before as she relived the intimate encounter with Hatch. She could still feel his lips on hers—the taste of his mouth, cognac and cigar tastes mingled—and his hand gently massaging her breast. She still did not know how she had summoned enough will power to put an end to the session when she did. Her nipples had been bursting and her body tingling with desire. She had considered it too big of a gamble to let it go further, even though Hatch seemed to be shedding his guilt about the past. She had to be sure that he had more time; and, of course, she needed to get to know the man better. It could turn out that they were not really compatible at all. She had no idea what his real value system was, or why he was so intent on being an international vigilante.

  “Syd, does this building look familiar? Syd?” said Hatch.

  Syd was jolted from her reverie.

  “Sorry, Hatch. I was just thinking back. I was there once. As you can see, no one can get close to the place on the ground, which is what I was trying to do. I was hoping I could get close enough for a shot at Hamad, but no such luck. The door on the left was where I saw several people come and go. You can see the parking lot they use further to the left. We should monitor that door for awhile if you want a count, and see if Hamad enters the building,” she answered.

  The team was impressed when they thought of her out beyond that fence with her sniper rifle, looking for a shot.

  “Good idea, Syd. We’ll start that immediately. Marli, could you program the satellites to start doing that now. Include this back door, too, just in case,” ordered Hatch.

  “You got it, boss. I’ll use the satellite which you have in a stationary orbit over Tabriz. I don’t think I need to move it to get what you want, but I’ll program a secondary channel for this so the main channel can keep giving us a real time image of the building,” answered Marli Carson, the MIT engineering graduate.

  Hatch wandered over to where Syd was sitting, so she took the opportunity to ask, “I want to spend some time on board Shadow-3 with Shirley. I need to get familiar with the aircraft, and pick her brain, in case I really need to play medic, God forbid!”

  “Good thinking, Syd. When these guys come up with some possible attack plans, I would like you to review them, but that will take awhile. Shirley, would you take Syd to the bird and give her a tour, and check her out on the comm system. She will be monitoring several voice channels on the way in—and out. We need to know what they’re saying in case they spot us somehow,” said Hatch.

  “Will do. Come on, Syd. I’ll show you Shadow-3. Did you get a chance to see Shadow-5? I can’t wait to see it! I hear it’s much larger than Shadow-3, with improved weapon systems,” bubbled Shirley.

  “Well, I had never seen anything like it. I only got a quick tour because we had to leave for here, but I was duly astonished,” said Syd as they exited the room and headed for the hangar.

  • • •

  Syd thought Shadow-3 looked just like Shadow-5, except it was somewhat smaller. Inside, the cockpit had two seats, and the main cabin had four, one right behind the cockpit on the starboard side, two amidships—one on either side—and one aft on the port side. The latter would be Syd’s position on the mission. There was a hatch door in the floor to the right of the Medic seat, with a pulley directly over it attached to the ceiling. Shirley explained that it was for dropping a line for either people or materials, like supplies.

  “Here, Syd, is your seat, and your system console. I’ll only have time to teach you the comm subsystem, even though all subsystems can be operated from any of the consoles. Here, put on this headset and I’ll show you how to power up the system and scan audio channels,” said Shirley.

  After half an hour of practice, Syd felt comfortable with her ability to handle the Communication Subsystem without crashing the system—which she was told could not happen. Then Shirley showed her where the medical supplies were stored and discussed the use of each item.

  “When a team is put on the ground, I go with them, and take this medic field pack. You won’t need that on this trip,” Shirley said. “Unless there is an unscheduled landing!”

  “Has that ever happened?” blurted Syd.

  “Only on purpose,” Shirley laughed. “So far, no unscheduled ones.”

  “When do you put people on the ground?” asked Syd.

  “Hostage rescue scenarios; anytime we need firepower on the ground. Not all missions can be handled completely from the air.”

  “Do you have commando training, too?” queried Syd.

  “We all go through Sara’s training course in Arizona before we’re allowed on a team in the field. I’m not a trained sniper like you are, but I can handle a variety of handguns and rifles,” she replied proudly. “And an MP-5, if I had to.”

  “That course of Sara’s must be something else!” remarked Syd.

  “It is. You’re really in shape when you get through with it,” she laughed. “A lot of aching muscles in the beginning though.”

  “Well, thanks for walking me through everything. Unless you can think of something else I need to know in the time we have, I guess we can go back and join the others,” said Syd.

  “OK, it’s almost lunch time anyway.”

  • • •

  During lunch in the large dining room where they had eaten dinner the night before, Hatch announced that they may be in luck. People seemed to be arriving at the target building in twos and threes all morning, as if a meeting had been called. Hamad had been identified as one of those in the building.

  “This is both good news, and bad,” he finished. “We have the occupants we want, but we have no idea how long they will be there. They could all be out of there by morning.”

  “The mission planning—navigation, weapons, target info—has been loaded into Shadow’s computers. We can go on thirty minutes notice,” said Carl Price, the Chief Engineer. “I checked all the systems and they are in the green.”

  “What’s the timing of the mission,” asked Hatch.

  “Tabriz is 825 nautical miles from here, so at 260 knots the flight time is around t
hree hours and fifteen minutes. Tabriz time is one and a half hours ahead of here, so delta time over target is 4 hours and 45 minutes. For example, if we left here at 1400, we’d be over the target at 1845 Tabriz time,” answered Mike Brawley, the pilot.

  “What’s the weather report,” continued Hatch.

  Brawley answered, “I wrote it down at noon. Temperature was 92.6 degrees Fahrenheit, barometer 29.90, wind 3.73 miles per hour, and partly cloudy. We’ll keep a check on the way, but the only thing that should change significantly is the temperature. It will be a little cooler at 1845.”

  “I would prefer more cloud cover, just in case. Something to hide in if we encounter trouble. What time is sunset?” asked Hatch.

  Looking at his notes, Brawley replied, “At 1905. It will still be light when we arrive, which is good for the attack. We can do it VFR. The end of visible twilight is 1929. Then it will begin getting dark for our exit from Iran.”

  “How long are we over Iran,” asked Hatch.

  “Around 32 minutes, not counting the time over the target. It’s 140 nautical miles from the Turkish border to Tabriz,” answered Brawley again.

  Hatch was silent, absorbing the information he had received. Syd observed the people around the table watching Hatch go through his decision making process. They all appeared ready to do whatever he decided. Syd herself was apprehensive, since she had never been on a mission quite like this one, and she would not get a practice run. She hoped that all she would be required to do is monitor voice traffic, which she felt confident about.

  Hatch finally said, “I did not want to rush this mission, but I didn’t expect to get a windfall like we have—a building full of them, including Hamad. Does anybody here have any reasons which would preclude launching at 1400 today?”

  Everyone shook their heads—ready to go.

  “OK, we’re a go for two o’clock. Everyone go suit up. Shirley, could you fit Syd out? You’re close to her size. Those who are flying meet at the bird at ten minutes till two.”

  Syd followed Shirley to her living quarters, which were like a large apartment—bedroom, living room, kitchenette, large bathroom with a walk-in closet. Shirley led her to the closet and took a blue jumpsuit covered with a plastic bag off the closet pole.

  “This one is clean, Syd. Why don’t you try it on for fit? If it doesn’t, I’ll run down to the storage room and get a larger one. This one is a little loose up top for me, so it should fit over your boobs all right,” she laughed.

  Syd stripped down to her bra and panties and stepped into the suit and zipped it up. It fit perfectly and felt like a soft, suede body suit.

  “What kind of material is this? It feels wonderful!” said Syd, running her hands over her body.

  “Nothing you’ve ever heard of. It was developed at the Toy Master’s lab in Arizona. It’s fire retardant, doesn’t tear, and is very hard to cut; but it breathes, so you don’t get all sweaty—like in a wet suit, for example,” answered Shirley.

  The suit had flap pockets on the outside of both thighs, and one over Syd’s left breast.

  “You’ll need thin flying gloves and a pair of jump boots. We’d better walk down to storage for those. My hands and feet are small for my size, like my boobs,” Shirley laughed.

  • • •

  The hangar door had been opened and Shadow-3 had been towed out onto the asphalt slab. Its door ladder was open. The crew began assembling, all dressed in their blue jumpsuits, at 1:45 P.M. In addition to the crew—Mike Brawley, pilot; Sam Vickers, copilot; Carl Price, Engineer; Sara, Defensive Systems; Hatch, Offensive Systems; Syd, Medic—Marli Carson, John T. Blanchard, and Shirley McNally were there to see them off. There were also several ground crew personnel wandering around. Brawley and Vickers were doing their walk around the aircraft with one of the ground crew members.

  Hatch approached Syd, and touching her elbow, guided her a few yards from the others.

  “How are you feeling, Syd?” he asked.

  “OK. A little apprehensive, since this type of mission is new to me. I don’t want to let you guys down,” she answered solemnly. “But don’t worry about me. I’ve survived a lot of pressure before.”

  “I know you’ll do great! Well, let’s mount up, the pilots have boarded.”

  The crew entered the aircraft and Carl Price closed and secured the door. Syd made her way to her station. She took her gloves out of the pocket on her right thigh and pulled them on. They fit like a second set of skin. The rotors were beginning to turn silently. The silence of the powerful electric motor, instead of the noisy gasoline engines she was used to, seemed eerie to Syd. She sat down at her station and fastened her shoulder straps and seat belt. She put on her headset with boom-mike and heard the pilot say, “Liftoff in 10 seconds. Everyone check in by the numbers.”

  Each station had a number so that names did not have to be remembered, or in case people swapped places: 1, Pilot; 2, Copilot; 3, Engineer; 4, Defensive Systems; 5, Offensive Systems; 6, Medic.

  Syd could hear the numbers coming through her headset as each station checked in.

  When she heard Hatch say, “Five,” she said, “Six.”

  “Lift off now. Mission underway at 1359,” said One.

  Syd pushed the Power On button on her console as Shirley had taught her. The screen came up with a menu and she selected the choice which allowed her a look at the outside, as if she were looking out a window in the aircraft. She could see the hangar below growing smaller.

  “OK, Three, go to Full Stealth,” said One.

  “Roger, One, engaging Full Stealth,” answered the Chief Engineer. “All indicators in the green. Transferring control of the skin to you, Sara.”

  “Roger, Three. I’ve got it,” answered Sara. The skin was considered part of the Defensive System.

  “Offensive Weapons checklist complete,” announced Hatch.

  “We’re at our cruising altitude of 10,000 feet, folks. It should be quiet for a couple of hours, but keep an eye out for radar sweeps, Sara,” said One after a few minutes.

  “Roger, One.”

  Syd practiced slewing her screen so she could see the outside at all possible angles: up, down, back, sideways. It was like playing a video game.

  She selected the local area aircraft control channels and aircraft tactical channels and listened to them in sequence for awhile, getting used to picking up phrases before the channel selector automatically stepped to the next in the sequence she had selected. It was going to be a long two and a half hours before they reached the Iranian border.

  • • •

  “Heads up, people,” said Brawley. “Iranian border five minutes away. How’s the skin, Four?”

  “In the green. They can’t detect us or see us,” Sara replied.

  “This is Six. I can hear their chatter clearly. No alarms, just normal patter,” said Syd. “Nothing on the tac aircraft channels.”

  Syd adjusted her screen view to forward so she would be able to see their approach to the target building, even though it was over 30 minutes away.

  “We’re being pounded by search radars from both sides of the border,” announced Sara, “but the signals are being shunted through properly. No problems.”

  There was calm chatter among the crew as they sped toward their objective. Hatch switched to an outside communication channel and talked to Marli, who was in charge of mission control back in Istanbul. She had been watching the target in real time.

  “Marli, this is Hatch. Update me on the target, please.”

  “More people arrived up until about an hour ago. No one has come or gone since then,” replied Marli.

  “Thanks, Marli. Shadow-3 out,” he said.

  “Looks like we have a full house,” he said on the intercom to the crew.

  Hatch punched a few keys on his console keyboard and a live satellite view of the target appeared on his screen. He rotated it until he had the view he wanted. He froze the image, and using his cursor, marked the two spots on the build
ing where he would put his first two missiles. Then he saved the screen to the computer’s memory. He switched to the Weapons Selection screen and clicked on two Sledge Hammer HE missiles. All he had left to do to complete the firing solution was to get to the building, lock-on to it to get the distance, and the building was history.

  Shadow-3 arrived on target at 7:06 P.M. Hatch switched to the on-board visual system.

  “OK, One. Take her down to 500 feet on the north side of the target.” said Hatch.

  “Roger, Five. Going down. Status, Four?” said the pilot.

  “In the green,” advised Sara.

  The pilot lost altitude and maneuvered to the position Hatch had requested. Hatch looked at the target on his screen.

  “OK, One, give me the bird,” said Hatch.

  “This is One. The bird is on autopilot, control switching to Five,” replied the pilot.

  “I’ve got it, One.”

  Hatch now could fly the aircraft through his computer system. He took Shadow-3 down to 200 feet and moved within 500 yards of the target. This attack was meant to look like a rocket attack from ground troops. He positioned his cursor on the building and got a distance reading and a GPS position. The information went into the Fire Control System and the firing solution was complete. A message on his screen told him he could fire when ready.

  He clicked on the Execute icon on his screen. A second, blinking, red icon which read Confirm appeared on his screen.

  “Here we go, people,” he said as he clicked on Confirm. The firing platform extended below the aircraft and two tubes fired missiles, then it moved back into position, flush with the aircraft’s body.

  The two missiles streaked toward the spots near the base of the building, the target areas that had been selected during the earlier analysis. They hit the building, bricks flying as they penetrated the wall, then twin explosions tore two gigantic holes. The front of the building began to collapse in slow motion, the roof following it.