by Dale Brown
Dog stuck the barrel of the rifle into his pack, took out his pistol, then crawled forward along the side of the road. The enemy gunfire had stopped, but Lang waved at him to stay there from across the road. Dog scouted the area for the soldiers’ radio before scrambling back behind the Hummer, where he took the PRC-90 radio from the pack.
While the PRC-90 was still used by some aircrews, it had been superseded by newer models long ago and had a number of drawbacks as a general-purpose radio, not the least of which in this case was its limited range. It had an auto-beacon mode which sent out special distress signals, as well as a voice mode, but it could only communicate effectively with another radio in line-of-sight, and given the terrain there was no hope of being able to contact the Dreamland Command trailer directly. But Dog hoped that its signal might be picked up by one of the LADS units or perhaps an aircraft operating nearby. In any event, it was all they had.
Something caught his eye in the brush about thirty yards away. He pushed the radio transmit switch to “auto beacon,” then tossed it down and pulled out his Beretta. When the shadow moved again he fired twice; the pistol jumped in his hand and his second bullet hit the leaves high above.
Lang yelled something to him, then started firing. As he did, the Humvee was peppered with gunfire. Dog flattened himself, then pulled his pistol into firing position, both hands properly on the weapon this time. He sighted into the brush, waited until he saw something move, then fired. The recoil didn’t seem nearly as bad this time.
“They’re all over the place. Get back here!” Lang yelled.
“Good idea,” shouted Dog. He slipped the radio into the pack and backed up, still moving on his stomach. As bullets began ripping into the ravine, Dog scooped up his knapsack and ran for it, crossing in two bounds and diving head-first into the bushes. Guns popped everywhere. Dog waited for the burn and catch in his stomach and chest, sure he’d been hit. When they didn’t come he turned himself over and crawled on his hands and knees to Lang, pushing the rifle to him and then retrieving the PRC-90.
He made a broadcast. He didn’t get a response but he hadn’t really expected one; he tried twice more, then put the unit back on beacon. The radio was small enough to slide into the pocket on his bullet proof vest.
“I couldn’t find your radio,” Dog told the other man. “This unit has pretty limited range. It may be a while before someone hears mine.”
“I don’t think it matters at the moment,” said the soldier. “We’re on our own here.”
“They’ll send somebody for us.”
“They don’t have anybody to send,” said the soldier. “At least not right away.”
Dog reached back into his pack for his first-aid kit. “Your face is cut up,” he told the soldier. “I have some antibacterial ointment that’ll keep it from getting infected.”
“Save it for yourself.”
“I’m not cut,” he said.
The soldier looked at him as if he were out of his mind.
“I’m cut?” said Dog. Then he remembered that he had gashed his hand and arm. He looked down at it, and saw that much of his uniform was torn and covered with blood. “This is nothing,” he told Lang.
Despite their predicament, the soldier laughed. “That’s the spirit, Colonel. Keep thinking positive.”
Chapter 78
Southeastern Brunei
Exact location and time unknown
This time, Mack was ready when the door opened. He’d filled the can with urine and was poised near the door, balanced on his haunches and ready to spring.
He hit the big man full in the face with the urine; as the terrorist reeled backward, Mack bolted through the open space, aiming to flatten the man in the hallway who stood guard with the rifle. He caught him in the neck with his fist, then felt himself tumbling across his body, the AK47 in his hands.
How he got it turned around, much less how he managed to aim it or make sure it was ready to fire, Mack didn’t know. It seemed to him that one second he was smacking his left shoulder against the wall and the next he was standing over the two dead Muslims, the AK47 smoking. The hallway became a cave filled with smoke. Mack saw the door at the end of the hall in front of him and ran for it, sure that flames were roaring behind him.
Someone shouted as he flew through the door. He turned left and right, firing from his hip and not stopping, never stopping as he ran for the road. As he reached it he heard the pop-pop-pop of an assault rifle behind him; the next second he fell nearly straight down. He threw his hands out, realizing he’d slipped onto an embankment, but there was nothing to grip, and he tumbled wildly down a deep ravine, sliding past a thin strip of vegetation to dirt and stone and then mud. He crashed into a wide, deep stream, flailing in the water that bit at him and pushed him wildly backward in its current. At first Mack was content just to get away. Then he realized the rushing water represented a danger all its own. He tried to grab something, anything, and stop himself from being carried away. Finally, at least a mile if not more from where he had gone in, Mack crashed into a log and managed to hold on.
Water rushed all around. He spit and coughed as he worked himself up the log toward the stream’s bank. He kicked against something solid; thinking he could stand he tried to get his feet under him, only to lose his balance and nearly his grip on the log.
When Mack finally got to the side, he crawled up over a small, narrow bed of sand into the bushes. There, exhausted, he lost consciousness.
Chapter 79
Dreamland command trailer, Malaysian air base
1220
Zen had just finished showing Starship how to work the communications board in the command trailer when Danny checked in from the platform.
“We have movement at the airport near the Megafortress,” said Danny. “I’m going to knock it out of action with the helicopters as planned. We’re just about to board the choppers.”
“Okay, do it.”
Danny hesitated a moment. “I have this other proposal — request, really. From the Brunei air force. They want to liberate one of their planes.”
“At the airport?”
“There’s apparently a section owned by a prince that has older aircraft, which could be used.”
“We’re talking about Prince bin Awg?”
“Yeah. We’ve examined the airport with the LADS blimps. There are no forces in that section, and we can cut off their access pretty easily once we disable the Megafortress”
“I’d say go for it. Just don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“Yeah. Dog’s not around?”
“Went to pay a courtesy call on the locals. He’s due back any minute. I’ll have him get a hold of you when he’s back if you want.”
“All right. I’m going to move ahead”
“I’ll have him get in touch, one way or another,” said Zen.
A peal of thunder rumbled in the distance as Zen signed off. Zen looked over at Starship, who glanced toward the nearby window. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
A second clap came so close that the trailer vibrated up and down.
“Was that thunder?” asked Starship.
The door to the trailer jerked open. “Incoming!” yelled Major Merce Alou. “We’re being shelled!”
“Shit. The planes,” said Zen, wheeling back. “We have to get the Megafortresses up. They’re sitting ducks.”
“Right,” shouted Alou, disappearing back outside.
“We’ll never get off the ground,” said Breanna.
“We have to,” said Zen, pushing his wheelchair for the door.
Chapter 80
Off the coast of Brunei
1228
Jennifer took over the LADS system for Sergeant Liu as he left to join the assault team. Jennifer made sure the feed for the airport was directly available to Danny’s team via the Dreamland network, then began switching through the others. The images were also being monitored back at Dreamland. The command center there was also receiving som
e of the operating data from the blimps, but could not control them unless the takeover command was specifically ordered from the field terminal. The satellite link used up a large portion of the available bandwidth, and was somewhat kludgy; it was generally considered easier to operate them directly from the field.
It had been a while since Jennifer had spoken to Dog, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to check in with him at the Malaysian base under the guise of seeing if the two additional LADS blimps had arrived there yet.
“Dreamland command trailer, this is Whiplash base,” she said. “Looking for an update on the new units. What’s their situation?”
There was no answer. Jennifer glanced at the communications board, making sure that she had it set properly.
“Dreamland command trailer — are you receiving me?” she asked.
“We’re under attack,” blurted Starship over the radio. “We’re taking mortar fire.”
“Mortar fire, copy,” she said. “Do you need assistance?”
There was no answer. Jennifer looked at the screen showing where the LADS units were located; the nearest blimp was monitoring the Brunei-Malaysian border about a hundred and seventy-five miles away from them — much too far to see them.
“Do you need assistance?” she asked again, but there was still no answer.
“Dreamland command, this is Whiplash base,” said Jennifer, switching over to the direct channel back home. “The team with the Megafortresses in Malaysia is under fire.”
“Copy. We’re working on getting some local support,” responded Major Catsman, who was on duty in the center.
“Okay,” said Jennifer, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.
What could she do? Sending one of the LADS units there seemed like a futile gesture; even at maximum speed it would take the blimp close to four hours to arrive.
But she had to do something. She selected the control screen for unit eight and cursored into the target area, setting the course. Then she enabled the unit’s auto-pilot; the blimp would fly its course on its own without needing to be checked, and then politely buzz its minders when it was within ten minutes of its destination.
“Whiplash Leader, are you hearing me?” she asked Danny.
“Roger base. We have the Megafortress in sight on the ground at Brunei International Airport. We’re preparing to disable it via TOW missiles.”
“Dreamland team is under fire at their site,” she told him.
Danny didn’t respond. Jennifer suddenly felt foolish for giving him the useless information; all she was doing was sharing her anxiety.
“I’m sending a blimp for observation,” she added. “They’ve called local support”
“Understood,” said Danny finally. “Keep me informed.”
“Roger that.”
Chapter 81
Malaysian air base
1232
Zen cursed the wheelchair, cursed the Brunei kingdom, cursed the Malaysians, cursed the Islamic madmen, and cursed his no-good legs as he pushed himself along the cement as fast as he could go toward the EB-52, determined to help get it in the air. The short field — and certainly the situation — demanded that the Flighthawks be used as boosters, helping the plane rocket off the runway.
The ground shook as a shell landed about a hundred yards away.
Shit, he thought to himself. This is crazy. But he pushed harder, determined to get the big planes off the ground.
And then launch the Flighthawks to pound the daylights out of whoever was firing at them.
Zen felt the veins in his face and chest straining as he wheeled onto the roadway. A geyser burst somewhere behind him, close enough to throw dust against the back of his head.
Something grabbed the back of his wheelchair and he felt himself jetting forward.
“Hey, Major, figured you wouldn’t mind a push,” yelled Starship in his ear.
“I’m in Penn,” shouted Zen. “See if you can get into Indy. They need the assist off the Flighthawks.”
“Yes, sir.”
If Starship thought it was crazy to try and take off under such circumstances, he kept his opinion to himself. Zen twisted around. “Where’s Kick?”
“I think he’s already aboard with Major Alou, there,” shouted Starship.
Another shell landed, this one in the jungle to the left. The Air Force Special Tactics people started yelling as they hustled to the aircraft. Zen couldn’t hear what they were saying though it wasn’t particularly hard to guess.
“You can let go,” Zen told Starship as Penn’s engines kicked to life. “I’ll take it from here”
“Talk to you upstairs,” said the lieutenant, giving him a push and then hustling for Indy, whose engines also wound into action.
Zen had to twist the wheelchair around and back into the ladder, which had a special clamp for his chair. He hooked the metal into the side, then looked down to make sure the wheels were locked. Set, he arched his back and shoved hard, as if trying to pop a wheelie. The abrupt pressure activated a micro-switch, which turned the ladder into a primitive elevator, hoisting Zen up. As he lifted up, yet another shell landed, this one on the runway; the wheelchair abruptly stopped, sagging against the metal pipe that held it.
“Come on, damn it,” cursed Zen. He leaned backward, trying to see how far he was from the hold. Just as he had concluded he was going to have to twist around and drag himself up the stinking ladder and into the ship, the chairlift caught again and he moved up into the hold.
Hell of a time to be a cripple, he thought.
* * *
Breanna brought all four engines up in quick succession. The screens flew by on the glass cockpit wall, the indicators flashing green as the computer ran through its system checks. She’d grabbed a helmet from the rack at the back of the flightdeck, and pulled it on, connecting into the communications system. But she hadn’t had time for the rest of the flight gear.
“Override checklist,” she told the computer.
The screen beeped at her, telling her the override was not allowed.
“Override, authorization BreeOne”
“OVERRIDDEN!” flashed on the screen.
“Who’s with me?” she said over the com system.
“You and me, kid,” said Zen from below. “I need power to the Flighthawks if you want to get out of here.”
“Take too long,” she said. “I’ll jettison them and run down to the other end of the field.”
“All I need is sixty seconds,” said Zen. “And you’ll have enough thrust to take off from here.”
A shell landed close enough to rock the plane. “Do it in thirty,” she said, pounding the command sequence on the screen that authorized the Flighthawks’ engine ignition while they were still on the wings.
“I’m on it.”
* * *
Starship found Kick already running through the Flighthawk checklists with the computer when he reached his station.
“Hey!” he yelled, sliding into his seat.
“Hey,” said Kick. “Major Alou wants a quick start — he’s got the engines up. Flighthawks are cycling.”
“Yeah, no shit,” said Starship.
“We have to give him a thirty-second burn on his signal,” said Kick. “Zen says just ramp it up and hold on. As long as we go together, we’ll get up in a shot.”
“Zen would know,” said Starship.
The airplane bucked as something landed nearby.
Hope we get the hell out here quick, Starship thought.
“Yeah, me, too,” said Kick over the interphone.
Chapter 82
North of Meruta, Malaysia
1232
Dog could see the three men who had them pinned down. They formed a semicircle in the jungle; they’d crossed the road and moved in about ten yards.
“We pick the weak link on one of the flanks, and take him out,” said Lang. He’d torn a piece of his uniform off and tied it around his leg, which had been cut pretty badly.
“We deal with that when it happens.” Lang winced as he shifted his weight. “Can you do this?”
“Yeah, I can do it.”
The sergeant handed him one of the M4s.
“You better show me how to get it to fire,” said Dog. “I couldn’t before.”
Lang took the gun back and slid his thumb against the selector on the side above the trigger area. The weapon had been safed. As he watched him Dog realized he hadn’t even thought of checking.
“Brace yourself as best you can when you fire. You get three shot bursts,” said Lang, handing the weapon back. “You’ll probably tend to fire too high. Keep that in mind”
“I will.”
“We’re going to go after the guy on this side,” said the sergeant, gesturing to the left, “because if we get past him, we’re clear back to the village.”
“Okay,” said Dog. “Hold on a second, Sergeant,” he added as the soldier started to the left.
Lang gave him an intense stare.
“I’m sorry, but I forgot your first name”
“Tommy,” said the sergeant, scowling.
“Sorry I forgot. I’m Dog.”
“Yeah, I know, Colonel. Let’s do it, okay?”
Chapter 83
Brunei International Airport
1232
Danny leaned forward in his seat in the helicopter as they settled into a hover a little less than a thousand yards from the Megafortress. The terrorists who had driven the tanker in from the city got out of the cab.