Ride of the Valkyries

by Stuart Slade

  The site where the missile battery had been was silent. No transmissions, no sign of activity. That information too would be sent back to the Valkyries, where it would be noted along with the caution that quiet and apparently dead didn't mean that the site really was dead - although after having 81 kilotons initiated over their heads, survival probably wasn't too probable.

  "‘Well Xioey, you aren't a virgin any more. Scratch one SAM site guys. Xav, any more life after that little excitement?"

  "Getting reports from Witchy Woman that they've taken down a Gammon site a bit south of here. Apparently it came up at the same time as the one we just fried. We've got nothing else yet. That'll change when we get over Iraq. Intel is that the air defense system in the Tigris-Euphrates triangle is pretty dense.

  Kozlowski thought for a second. The usual arrangement was three Gammon batteries surrounded by a hexagon of six Guideline or Gainful positions. A single launcher of each type out here in the middle of nowhere didn't smell right. "I don't like this people, there should be more out here than just these. Xav, hang our ears out really careful and let the Valks know what we're doing." Kozlowski thought some more. Suppose the missile battery they'd just taken down was the northern tip of the hexagon and the Gammon was the northern tip of the interior triangle? That would mean the main strength of the SAM belt lay further south. On the direct route from Damascus to Baghdad. Interesting. There'd been rumors and reports of low-level fighting between the various satrapies that made up the Caliphate. The installation of air defense systems between the satrapies suggested that the fighting was anything but low-level.

  "Xav, tell California Girl that there's probably the rest of this nest in front of her. There's got to be a reason for that defense site stuck out here. If there isn't then the internal tensions in the Caliphate must be a lot worse than we realized. We'll nose around a little, see what we can find.

  War Room, Underneath the White House. Washington DC

  The red lines marking the progress of the attack formations had now reached the westernmost parts of the Caliphate. The leading elements, the RB-58 strategic reconnaissance elements and the F-108 fighters were already deep inside enemy territory, ferreting out the hostile defenses and neutralizing those that could threaten the bombers following behind. The speed of advance of the Valkyries had slowed briefly while the aircraft refueled over the Aegean, now it was picking up again as they started to penetrate hostile airspace.

  "Message coming in from the Recon Rats, Mister President. General Kozlowski's Xiomara has detected an anomalous defense area inside Syrian territory. It's nothing we'd mapped, so he's taken command of an effort to find out what gives there. Four RB-58s are exploring it now. If they find what looks like a target, we'll take it down."

  "Exploring it?" President Nixon's voice was confused and slightly resentful. He was realizing just how little he knew about the forces he commanded and the capabilities they had. That knowledge was making him suspicious, causing him to speculate how much more there was that he just didn't know. And did that mean that people were keeping the information from him?

  "Reconnaissance by fire, Mister President." General Power's voice showed no such doubts or suspicions. He'd been President LeMay's protégé and he'd inherited LeMay's manner of absolute dedication to the mission. "They fly over an area and shoot at anything suspicious. Anything that shoots back also gets hammered."

  "With nuclear weapons." Nixon's voice had doubt added to confusion and resentment.

  "Only little ones" The Seer's voice was slightly distracted, he was looking down through the force roster, arranging for a B-70 to be retargeted on the newly discovered complex - if there was a complex there that deserved to be taken down. He had a feeling there would be.

  "I've been meaning to talk to you about that Seer." Power spoke sternly, reproof evident in his manner. "The whole point about nuclear weapons is that they cause a very large explosion. We've had scientists at work for thirty years trying to cause bigger explosions. Deliberately scaling them back seems almost treasonous to me."

  "A nuclear event isn't technically an explosion, General. That's why we call them initiations. However, we don't want to do more damage than we have to. We like to have a range of yields available so we can match weapon to target. That way we can try to reduce collateral damage as much as possible." Everybody in the room knew that ‘collateral damage' meant people killed because they had the misfortune to live too close to a target. Like the population of Bahrain.

  "Permit me to disagree with you Seer. I've always believed that if there's one enemy left and two of us, we've won."

  "But General, we'd have to hope that our survivors are one man and one woman." Naamah's comment cut off the snort of outrage from Nixon. She knew very well that Power's blustering attitude was a deliberate construct that allowed others to play ‘good cop' to his ‘bad cop'. It was a game that LBJ had played very, very well. Nixon had a long way to go before he could step into those shoes.

  "My dear, I feel quite convinced that you would be one of the survivors. And in that case I can but hope that I would be the other."

  Naamah was about to respond to the gallantry when another message cut into the room. A communications technician read it out. ‘‘Xiomara Mister President, Sirs. Large industrial complex, some of it apparently underground, in the center of the defense area. Xiomara reports that it has the characteristics of a nuclear research and production facility."

  "Oh well, that can go then." Nixon jumped in to take the decision. "What have we got that can do it? And why wasn't this one on the original target list?"

  "No problem, Mister President, we have almost an embarrassment of destructive riches out there. We'd anticipated we'd find additional pressing targets as we penetrated the airspace so we made accommodation for the probability. As to why we hadn't spotted it, no coverage of a large area is ever complete. We're bound to miss things. Doesn't matter, we can retarget our bombers right up to the instant they make their laydowns. We have two Valkyries carrying a pair of B-87 Skybolts each still over the Mediterranean. We can order Xiomara to relay the coordinates through and we can drop a Skybolt on that complex. Probably two to be sure, if the target really is underground, it might take two to wipe it out."

  "What's a B-87's warhead?"

  "‘One megaton. These will be the biggest devices we're using in this assault. We brought them along in case of a buried target."

  "Xiotnara is reporting emissions from Gammon missile batteries." That caused a few eyebrows to be raised around the room. Gammon was a new system, a high-altitude SAM with a serious antimissile capability.

  "Interesting. We got word from the Russians that they're running into Elles up north. It seems like the Chipanese are selling their latest kit now. What do you think Tommy, still use Skybolts or divert a bomber?"

  Power thought for a second. "Ballistic missiles, even air-launched ones, are only suited to a low-threat environment, so my first thought is to say send a bomber, Seer. But, I like the idea of a big warhead on that buried complex. Also, let's see how well Gammon works. I'd say toss a couple of B-87s and if they get shot down, divert a Valkyrie.'"

  "Sounds fair to me. Mister President?" Nixon nodded. "Tommy, could you send orders to Skuld asking her to launch on coordinates from Xiomara, please?"

  Cockpit, B-70D Skuld 100th Heavy Bomb Group, 77,000feet over the Eastern Mediterranean

  "Do you think they put us in back-up because I'm Navy?" Lieutenant-Commander Paul Flower was, in his opinion, justifiably aggrieved. He'd been given this exchange tour of duty with SAC to learn about heavy bombers and to give SAC's aloof bomber crews some insight into the world of fighters. Now, Skuld had been assigned to back-up, waiting to be assigned targets of opportunity.

  "They don't think like that. We got back up because there are only four B-70s in the 100th that are Skybolt-equipped and two of them don't have DAMS. So that left us and Hrist. If it's any consolation, since we'll be going in behind the main wave, we
've got more offensive and fewer defensive weapons on board so we get to blow up more things." Captain Kevin Madrick grinned at the last thought.

  "Spoken like a true SAC-man. What did your old man say about you joining the Air Force?"

  "When I asked him what he'd say if I joined the Navy, his reply was ‘Before or after I break your legs with a baseball bat?' So I joined the Air Force instead. He never forgave the Navy after it blamed him for Shiloh going down. Bitter about it to the day he died. Newport News invited him to the christening of the new Shiloh but he wouldn't even reply."

  "Kevin, target information and orders coming in. B-87 coordinates from one of the RB-58s, orders to fire from the War Room. Both Skybolts. After impact, we're to penetrate the target area and do a gravity drop if anything's left, we'll have an RB-58G and a -58F in support."

  "Thanks, Mack. Get the data typed in and the ‘Bolts warmed up. Paul, calculate ideal course and launch point. Make sure there isn't an island under us when we fire, we don't want a ‘Bolt dropping on dry land if there's a failure. You know just how unreliable these ‘Bolts are."

  "Computed, swing to course oh-eight-eight, fire in one minute five seconds."

  "Roger that. Missiles ready and armed?" "Check."

  "On course, approaching fire point in five - four - three - two - one - GO!"

  Skuld lurched as the two externally-mounted Skybolts detached, their motors igniting with separation, then streaked ahead of Skuld. As soon as they were clear of the bomber, they curved upwards, starting the long ballistic arc that should end in the newly-discovered target in Syria.

  "Wow, look at them go!"

  "They're OK, I suppose, if one likes that sort of thing. Time we followed them in to do the job properly."

  RB-58G Xiomara Over Syria Satrapy, The Caliphate

  "Clear of impact area." That was one of the advantages of high-speed aircraft; they could clear a danger zone fast. Kozlowski eased off Xiomara's throttles slightly and started a gentle turn. The aircraft's flash screens were down and the crew had their anti-flash visors in place. If the missiles got through, this was going to be a major event.

  "Skybolts on the way in. They should be on the way down now." Korrina was tracking the two Skybolts arcing through the air on his radar. Normally, he knew the Gammon battery on the ground would be doing the same with its target acquisition radar but that set and its bunker had just met with a multi-kiloton accident. The missile crews would be working to get an intercept solution with their fire control radars. That took time and they didn't really have it. "Gammons firing now. Targeted on Skybolts."

  "Good." Xiomara sounded relieved. The Gammon was a long-range, high-altitude interceptor missile; one that could present a threat to an RB-58 and possibly even a B-70.

  Two missiles airborne - heading upwards. Two more firing now.

  "Shoot-shoot-look-shoot-shoot." That was the standard for conventionally-tipped anti-missile missiles. Isolate the target, fire a pair of missiles at it, look to see what the situation was and fire another pair. Kozlowski assumed these Gammons had conventional warheads; the ones grouped around Chipanese cities were like their American cousins, nuclear-tipped. Intelligence was that Chipan hadn't exported nuclear weapons to the Caliphate. He guessed that the complex presently behind them, had been designed to rectify that.

  Korrina watched the tracks of the missiles converge and vanish as the missiles made the intercepts. "First pair of Gammons missed, Mike, they exploded at the end of their runs. Conventional explosions. Second pair...... they got one of the Skybolts." The

  missile track downwards veered sharply away from its projected track. In his mind's eye Korrina could see the crippled Skybolt tumbling through the air, its fragile skin shredding as aerodynamic forces tore it apart. Its partner though still lanced downwards. Another pair of Gammons were on their way up but they were too late. Far too late. "Hold on guys!"

  Even through the flash screens and visors, the glare from the one megaton surface burst lit up the inside of Xiomara's cockpit, reducing Kozlowski's vision to floating red and green shadows. He blinked and shook his head, helped by the slam of the airborne Shockwave that threw Xiomara sideways. Instinctively he grabbed the controls and corrected the savage yaw. "Eddie, as soon as the screen clears, check for damage. Skuld is coming in behind for another laydown if its needed."

  "On it, Mike." Korrina was trying to clear his vision as well. The target area was covered with the usual electronic shadow that would last anything up to a minute or more but that was no more than a minor annoyance. Korrina tagged his radar transmissions and flipped in the filters, causing the shadow to vanish just as magically as ever. Where the complex had been was a giant crater, the ground still heaving with the reflected after-shocks of the surface burst. The whole complex had gone - or had it? Korrina looked at the image again. The way the ravine curved, north of the crater......

  "Mike, it looks like the ‘Bolt hit about 2,500 yards south east of the planned impact point." Xiomara snorted contemptuously over the intercom. A bomber crew who missed their target by that much would be in trouble. "If Skuld's got B-61s on board, the target could use one. Suggest they set for the whole 500 kilotons, ground burst, and target seven miles north of the Skybolt point of impact."

  "Roger, I'll relay that through."

  War Room, Underneath (he White House. Washington DC

  "Mister President, sirs, one Skybolt downed by Gammons, the other got through. It's rated as a near-miss. Skuld is going in to get a possible northern extension of the complex with a B-61 ground burst dialed up to the max."

  "That's my boys." General Power's voice was affectionate. "Don't do things by halves."

  "Ground bursts? I thought we weren't going to be using those. What about radiation? Fall-out?"

  "We had none in our original plan Mister President. They're only of use in handling deep-buried targets. These two are going to cause a plume, the winds aren't strong so it will be a short, fattish one. The worst of it will be within Caliphate territory. Fortunately, no rivers flow through the area into the Mediterranean so we won't get the contamination that ruined the North Sea and Baltic. The Nile is the nearest river we have to worry about and that's right on the edge of the projected plume."

  The Seer stared at the map for a few seconds. "The Gulf, that's a different matter. Most of the 35th's targets in Iraq Satrapy are on the Tigris and Euphrates, they empty into the Gulf. Still, the initiations are all high airbursts, the problems shouldn't be too bad. Anyway, offering the Caliphate the opportunity of catching self-frying fish can't be all bad."

  Nixon wasn't listening. "The Nile? What about the International Zone! All the scientists there, they're right in the path of the plume. Nobody told me about this. Why wasn't I told the radiation plume would stretch all the way down there?"

  "We warned the South African government that the prevailing winds meant there was a danger from fall-out plumes so they got all the people there under cover. Some, I believe, are sheltering in the Pyramids. Nice to know those things are finally going to be of use to somebody."

  "I'll tell her you said that." Naamah's voice was pitched way down, just loud enough for The Seer to hear.

  It didn't matter, Nixon wasn't listening. "‘Anyway, if ballistic missiles are so useless, why do we have Skybolt? Why not just drop bombs from the start?"

  "The idea, Mister President, is to equip the bombers with the widest possible range of attack modes. So we have developed long, medium and short-range cruise missiles that fly at high, medium or low altitudes. We have developed long- and short-range ballistic missiles that can be fired from our bombers. That way, the enemy have no idea what any individual bomber can throw at them until it does it.

  "The big problem with ballistic missiles is their vulnerability, they come in on a fixed trajectory and that makes them very easy to hit. Skybolt is air-launched so it has almost infinitely variable launch points. That means it's much less predictable. Even that, as we've just seen, isn't enough to
offset the basic vulnerability of the missile. However, it does mean that the presence of Valkyries and Stratofortresses forces the defense to be on their guard against a ballistic or stand-off cruise missile attack. Just another factor that loads the dice in favor of the bombers."

  The Seer broke off again to look at the developing situation map. As he did so, Power cut in. "For all that Mister President, free-fall gravity bombs are still our preferred delivery means. They're light compared with missiles and much more accurate. A whole load more reliable as well."

  Nixon nodded, his lips pursed. "Gentlemen, it's obvious I need to know much more about this area. Naamah, after this affair is over, arrange for General Power and the NSC staff to set up a series of briefings for me, on the types of weapon we have and why we have them. Seer, please find out what the facility we have just destroyed was. Perhaps the people who we contacted in Switzerland can help on that."

  RB-58G Xiomara Over Iraq Satrapy, The Caliphate

  The improvised attack on the Syrian complex had drastically cut the lead Xiomara had over the B-70s following behind her. The days when the RB-58 had a speed advantage over the pure bombers were dying fast. The B-70 was actually faster than the Hustler and that meant the time lost over Syria couldn't be restored. Also, four of Xiomara's AGM-76s had been fired. That, combined with decreasing fuel levels, was causing Kozlowski concern.

  The primary target he had to deal with was still ahead, the huge industrial complex of Salman Pak, south of Baghdad. It was heavily defended due to the concentration of high-value targets within it. He had been briefed to expect modern SAMs and fighters. Still, if necessary, he could divert to bases in Russia to rearm and refuel.