by Dale Brown
“Thank you, sir,” Daren replied.
“I hope you’ll find a home out here—” Goff said. He paused, glanced at McLanahan, then added, “If they haven’t scared you too much already.”
“That may be possible to do, sir, but not yet.”
“Colonel, I’m looking forward to seeing what your airborne-laser aircraft are capable of,” Goff said, shaking Nancy’s hand. Nancy Cheshire was tall, athletic bordering on muscular, with strawberry-blond hair, shining green eyes, and an ever-present smile. She was the senior test pilot in the experimental B-52 bombers at Dreamland, accepting her first operational command to get the chance to keep on flying her beloved super-B-52s and work with Patrick McLanahan.
“Finally,” Patrick went on, “Colonel Hal Briggs and Sergeant Major Chris Wohl, Air Battle Force ground operations.”
Maureen Hershel stared at Chris Wohl in wonderment. Hal was wearing his Air Force Class-A blue uniform, but Chris Wohl was wearing a strange black outfit that resembled high-tech scuba diver’s gear, with a thin backpack, thick boots and belt, and tubes running along the arms and legs. “What in the world is this?” she asked, touching the strange material.
“It’s called BERP — Ballistic Electro-Reactive Process, ma’am,” Hal Briggs replied. “Electronic armor. It responds to being sharply struck by instantly hardening into an almost impenetrable protective shield that can withstand attack by up to thirty-seven-millimeter cannon shells. The tubes you see outside the armor are part of the powered exoskeleton, which uses microhydraulic actuators to activate the armor and enhance the wearer’s strength. These electrodes on the shoulders emit directional bursts of electrical energy out as far as fifty feet, which can paralyze an attacker. The boots contain a gas thruster system that can help the wearer jump several hundred feet. The backpack contains a power-generating and rechargeable-battery system, plus worldwide communications and sensor equipment. This is what the well-dressed commando will be wearing this century.”
“They call themselves the Tin Men, Maureen,” Goff said, shaking hands with Briggs and Wohl. His voice was filled with tension and seriousness, but his handshake and eyes were friendly. “They’ve proven themselves extraordinarily effective in many different scenarios, but they’ve also given us a lot of headaches since we’ve taken office. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”
“That’s one of our specialties, sir,” Hal Briggs said. “We aim to please.”
“I for one don’t think it’s funny, Colonel,” President Thorn said. “You successfully dragged the United States into a shooting war with Russia and nearly got us into a shooting war with Libya — all for a few lousy dollars. If it weren’t for General McLanahan’s interceding on your behalf, you’d all be in prison right now.” Briggs and Wohl said nothing but remained at parade rest, eyes caged forward. “Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“I’m happy to have the opportunity to create some havoc for you now, sir,” Briggs said.
“Same here, sir,” Wohl chimed in.
Thorn looked Wohl up and down. “I was a commando, too, Sergeant Major,” he said. “I spent a month crawling on my belly in Iraq before and during Desert Storm with nothing but a laser designator and a bad attitude. But not once in all the battles and all the shit we took did I ever consider turning my back on my country or the Army.”
He stared both Wohl and Briggs in the eyes, his chin jutting out, his jaw clenched. “You left the Corps and fought for an outlaw organization,” he went on angrily. “Both of you renounced your oaths and went to work for what I believe was a criminal organization — a group that stole money, committed murder and mayhem, and absconded with government property. You nearly caused a world war with your antics. You didn’t deserve to come back into the country, let alone come back into the U.S. armed forces and get a promotion.”
“You gave my men and me full exoneration and full restoration of our rank and privileges, sir….” Patrick interjected.
“That’s right — I gave your ranks back to you,” Thorn said heatedly. “I gave them back because you acquitted yourselves with honor in Libya. But you haven’t won the right to think you’re some kind of bad-ass fighting men now.” Thorn turned and saw Wohl glaring at him. He turned and faced the big Marine nose-to-nose. “You have something to say to me, Sergeant Major?”
“Yes, sir,” Wohl said. His eyes remained caged, not looking directly at the president’s. “But I choose not to say it.”
“Go ahead, Sergeant Major,” Thorn pressed. “You have permission to speak freely. Tell us why you chose to leave your post without being properly relieved, and why you think you deserve to come back into my country’s armed forces — instead of spending the rest of your life in prison.”
Wohl’s eyes angrily snapped over to Thorn’s. That was the reaction Thorn was waiting for.
“Go ahead, Sergeant Major, say it,” Thorn goaded him. “Give me a reason to toss your ass in Leavenworth, where it belongs.”
Wohl wisely, thankfully remained silent.
“You assassinated Pavel Kazakov in Iceland, didn’t you, you murderous son of a bitch?” Thorn asked in a low, ominous voice.
“Excuse me, sir—” Hal Briggs interjected.
“Shut up, Colonel,” Thorn ordered. “I haven’t even started with you yet.” He turned again to Wohl. “You’re a wild dog, Wohl.” He jabbed at Wohl’s chest and was surprised when the material he thought was fabric felt as hard as titanium — he could have all his Secret Service agents nearby, he realized ruefully, and they wouldn’t be able to stop this guy. That made him a little nervous — no, it made him a lot scared—but he knew he couldn’t dare let that show, so he pressed on. “There’s an Interpol warrant for your arrest for Kazakov’s murder, did you know that? He was under United Nations protection. You cut his head off, didn’t you? Whose idea was it to kill Kazakov? Yours or Briggs’s?” Still no response. “Answer me!”
“My men prefer to do their talking on the battlefield, Mr. President,” Patrick McLanahan said forcefully, quickly interjecting his voice between them — he could practically feel the heat from Wohl’s temples as his anger mounted. No one, not even the president of the United States, would be allowed to get into Chris Wohl’s face unscathed for very long. “Sergeant Major Wohl isn’t a debater. He follows orders, leads men into battle, and kills with extraordinary efficiency.”
Thorn looked into Wohl’s eyes and instantly believed what Patrick was telling him.
“If you’d like a briefing on our prior activities and the reasons behind them, sir, I’d be happy to accommodate you at any time.”
“I’m not interested in dog and pony shows, and I’m sure as hell not interested in excuses,” Thorn said. “I’m letting you know that I’m still not convinced that you’re fighting for the United States of America. You have a long way to go before that happens.”
“Sir, we’re ready to demonstrate our capabilities — and our loyalty — anytime, anywhere.”
“That’s why we’re here, General,” Goff said. He waited to see if the president had anything more to say; when Thorn remained silent, Goff said to Patrick, “Okay, Patrick, show us around.”
“Yes, sir. We call this the BATMAN, or Battle Management Center,” Patrick said. They were in a huge room, like an auditorium, complete with tiered seating, a stage, and even three glassed-in balcony sections. Sixteen four-by-three-foot color plasma displays seamlessly hung together on the forward wall above the stage; a few of them were out of order, but the view was still spectacular. “Here in the center are consoles for the commanders and leadership. Behind the commanders are the support staffs, linked together by fiber-optic networks — intelligence, operations, communications, logistics, weather, and manpower. The rear of the tiered section is the virtual-cockpit command center, where teams will be able to control up to six long-range bombers plus a dozen unmanned combat air vehicles or monitor the automated progress of dozens of unmanned aircraft. Up above is the battle staff area; on eithe
r side of that are areas for joint forces or civil commanders; and on either side of BATMAN are observer areas, which can be closed off if necessary.”
“When is all this going to be finished, General?” Hershel asked.
“We’re mission-capable now, ma’am,” Patrick replied. “We already have worldwide communications capability here via high-frequency radio, the Internet, secure fiber-optic landline, and secure satellite. All the datalinks aren’t set up yet, but most of the hardware is in place, and it’s just a matter of programming in the links. At this point we’re about at the level where command posts were in the 1980s. In two months we’ll be up to date. In three to six months — with the right funding — we’ll be state-of-the-art, able to control entire squadrons of unmanned aircraft and collect and analyze real-time reconnaissance and intelligence data from all over the world.”
“I’ve seen better, General — I’m not impressed,” Thorn said impatiently. “If I recall correctly, you were tasked only with investigating how your experimental aircraft and weapons could interface with today’s tactical air squadrons. We gave you back all your toys with the idea that they would be merged into other existing combat units on an as-needed basis. It looks to me like you’re building your own military unit here, using General Furness’s planes.”
“That’s inaccurate, sir,” Patrick said. “I don’t control any of these aircraft. The B-1s and KC-135s belong to General Furness; the B-52s belong to the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center.
“As I understand them, sir, my orders were to discover ways to integrate the EB-52 Megafortress, EB-1C Vampire, AL-52 Dragon, and other weapons, aircraft, satellites, and sensors developed at HAWC with existing forces,” Patrick went on. He knew he was quoting his orders word for word. “I was also given the task of standing up this facility for use as an alternate national military and civil emergency command center and secure evacuation location for the national command authority. I’m ready to brief the National Command Authority at any time on how these weapon systems and this facility can be integrated into the total force structure. I assembled a team of experts on unmanned aircraft development, on my own authority and budget, and I—”
“What you consider ‘your authority’ is highly questionable to me, General,” Thorn interjected. “You must be taking money from other projects and programs to help fund your project — maybe even taking money from General Furness here. Is that what you’re doing, General McLanahan? You are doing flight tests with General Furness’s unmanned B-1 bombers? You want to create an entire wing of robot planes, all controlled from this place?”
Patrick looked over at John Long, who was looking directly at him with a grin on his face. He should’ve expected the rat bastard to drop a dime on him, Patrick thought. “Yes, sir,” Patrick said. “That’s what I’m doing here.”
Rebecca cut in quickly, “Sir, I fully authorized General McLanahan’s use of wing resources for his—”
“I seriously doubt it, General Furness,” Thorn said. “I’ll look into that issue myself.” Thorn and McLanahan stared at each other for a few moments. Then Thorn asked, “So tell me, General — did it work?”
“No, sir,” Patrick replied, “it did not.”
David, Rebecca, Daren, and even John Long looked at McLanahan in surprise. “It didn’t work?” Thorn retorted. “Not at all? Any of it?”
“The tests proved what we already knew about the StealthHawk unmanned combat air vehicle system — it’s a mostly reliable and effective weapon system,” Patrick elaborated. “Unfortunately, the tests we performed regarding unmanned full-size bomber aircraft being used both as a mothership and as an attack platform were unsuccessful. Although we were able to launch and retrieve a StealthHawk UCAV remotely, we were unable to complete an aerial refueling, which was our main objective.”
Thorn looked at the surprised expressions of the officers before him — something wasn’t quite jibing. He gave them a few heartbeats to speak, perhaps come to McLanahan’s defense… but they did not.
“Too bad, General,” he said finally. He wasn’t about to prompt anyone for more information. If they didn’t want to be forthcoming for some reason — meaning, if they didn’t believe in the project enough to back the boss — he certainly wasn’t going to do it for them. “I hope all you’ve wasted is a little jet fuel.”
“I would like to see the full results of your flight tests,” Goff interjected.
“Secretary Goff gave you an assignment recently, General,” the president asked. “Got something for us?”
“Yes, sir,” Patrick replied. “My deputy, General Luger, has the information you requested.”
“Then let’s get started.” They all took seats, and Patrick motioned to David Luger.
“Good morning, Mr. President, Mr. Secretary, Miss Deputy Secretary,” Luger began. “Last week, on orders transmitted to the First Air Battle Force from the Joint Chiefs of Staff deputy commander for operations, I was directed by General McLanahan to perform an operational air-battle assessment of the eastern Turkmenistan region, concentrating specifically on recent military maneuvers by a group of insurgents identified by the CIA as the same Taliban fighters we interdicted in Operation Hilltop a couple weeks ago,” Luger said. “An air-battle assessment is a tasking whereby we identify and classify threats in a specific area using our own surveillance assets, combined with national and international sources, and then develop a plan of action to counter the threats. I looked at all threats posed by these insurgents but primarily focused on the threat to U.S. interests — national and civil as well as military — in Central Asia.
“In general, sir, we identify no credible threat to U.S. military interests in Central Asia and only minor military threats to U.S. interests in neighboring areas such as the Persian Gulf, Indian Ocean, or Black Sea regions. However, we have identified an imminent and serious threat to U.S. commercial interests in Turkmenistan that could have grave repercussions in the entire region and neighboring regions.”
“You mean those insurgents and the threat to TransCal’s pipelines,” Maureen Hershel interjected.
“Yes, ma’am,” Luger acknowledged. “In short, the TransCal pipelines — all of them — are effectively right now in the hands of the insurgents, and at this point they fully control them. They can shut them down, blow them up, hold them hostage, keep them running — whatever they want to do. The Turkmen army is virtually incapable of resisting them any longer.”
“It’s worse than we thought, then,” Goff said.
“The insurgents control fifty percent of all the pipelines in the entire country — nearly ninety-five percent of the lines not owned by Russian oil companies,” Luger said. “Duty Officer, slide number one.” Several of the screens in front of them came to life, showing a map of Turkmenistan, the border region with Uzbekistan highlighted. “Here is a map of all of TransCal’s pipelines — five billion dollars’ worth, a joint venture by TransCal and the Turkmen government, transporting crude oil and natural gas from Turkmenistan’s substantial known oil and gas fields to a few refineries, but mostly to users in twelve neighboring countries and to shipment points in Pakistan. Turkmenistan itself uses only about three percent of what it produces. Overall, the pipelines are modern, aboveground, well hardened against earthquake and storms, and mostly remotely monitored, with quarterly visual inspections.
“The biggest pipelines — both oil and gas lines — run right along the entire Turkmen-Uzbek border. As you can see, most of these lines are controlled by the insurgents, from the Tajikistan border to Chärjew. TransCal also has a pipeline system running from their wells in Uzbekistan south to the city of Mary, then south through Afghanistan to Pakistani ports on the Gulf of Oman; all the lines from Chärjew to Mary are under insurgent control, which means they control the lines south of there as well.
“The insurgents also control the TransCal pipelines running along the Kara Kum Canal, which runs east-west from the Iranian to the Uzbek borders. That canal is importan
t in irrigation, flood control, and transportation in most of southern Turkmenistan. The insurgents can now cut off all petroleum deliveries running to the east and south, including oil and natural gas to Central Asia and the Indian subcontinent — we estimate nearly two hundred thousand barrels of crude oil and fifty million cubic feet of natural gas per day.
“TransCal has responded to the insurgents by paying them what amounts to ‘protection’ money,” Luger went on. “We have located sizable numbers of Taliban forces, including Turkmen soldiers hired by the Taliban or by Turkmen defectors, at every pumping and control station east of the sixty-second-degree east longitude — over a hundred switches, pumping stations, check-valve stations, power stations, and control stations spread out across forty thousand square miles. We estimate that the numbers of Taliban troops are at least fifteen to eighteen thousand — over a third the size of the regular Turkmen army.”
“So you’re saying it’ll be real tough to kill these Taliban, is that what you’re telling me, General?” Thorn asked irritably.
“The problem isn’t with killing them — the problem is what they’ll do once they find out they’re under attack,” Dave Luger said. “Their forces are spread out over three hundred miles of pipeline. If Battalion A comes under attack, Battalion C a hundred miles away might have orders to blow up a pumping station or the pipeline itself.”
“I don’t need you to present me with problems, son. I need you to give me answers,” Thorn said.
“The answer, sir: concentrate our forces on the most vital points in each section of the pipelines,” Luger went on. “We’ve identified six of the most vital upstream points. We can verify our analysis with TransCal, but this is our best guess. Duty Officer, next slide.” Six red triangles appeared on the map of Turkmenistan. “The most critical one is in Chärjew. It controls pipelines running east-west along the Amu Darya River and north-south from Uzbekistan. If we can take control of these six points, but especially the main control center in Chärjew, the insurgents can blow up almost every foot of the rest of the pipelines, and there won’t be a major spill. The second most important control center is in Bayramaly, east of the city of Mary. This one controls oil flowing north-south to Pakistan through Afghanistan and also east-west.”