by Jon Sedran
“Jim, good to see again, been a while.”
“For sure Rob, understand you have another interesting load for us.”
“Let’s go to the vault were we can talk.”
“Okay, Sergeant Simms will stay here and supervise the loading.”
Jenkins escorted the two officers to the white government SUV and drove them to the base headquarters building.
“I see new hangars have gone up since I was last here.” Taylor remarked, as he looked out the passenger’s side window.
“Those will probably be the last for a long while. Budget cuts are hitting us hard.” Jenkins replied. “The Pentagon’s budgets were cut across the board. Even the most advanced weapons projects, our so called ‘black projects’, unfortunately, were not exempt from the budget ax.”
“Too bad,” said Taylor.
“General Bradley lobbied the secretary hard for some relief. Told him these projects would be incredible force multipliers and would easily pay for themselves, and save many of our troops lives, but he got nowhere,” Jenkins said, sounding somewhat despondent. He parked the SUV at the base headquarters building and the three officers went inside.
“Is this your first trip to our alien spacecraft storage facility?” Jenkins inquired of the young lieutenant as they walked down the hall toward the vault.
Taylor smiled.
“Yes sir, but I don’t believe those stories about little green men,” Stevens replied. The men entered the vault and were met by Major Hal York of Air Force Combat Command.
“Welcome everyone, please have a seat,” said York, closing the vault door behind them. “As you may already know, Colonel Jenkins group, Detachment Three out of Edwards, only supports the development and testing of experimental aircraft and weapons systems, but they have no operational responsibilities here. Once a new weapons system goes from experimental into production, operational control goes over to another command, typically for aviation platforms, to Air Combat Command.” The men sat listening attentively as the major continued. “Lieutenant, I am allowed to tell you the UH-80L stealth helicopters used on the mission to kill Osama bin Laden are kept here.”
Taylor took the cue. “Yeah, I hauled them to our base in Jalalabad, Afghanistan. Then unloaded them to be used in their mission to Abbottabad, Pakistan. “When it was over, I hauled the remaining one back here.”
York nodded. “Then you know our technology is better than anyone else’s in the world, no one can do what we can. Our adversaries are in many cases, years behind us.” He paused, then added, “The most advanced UAV’s ever made are now about to become fully operational. They can operate in a high threat environment completely autonomously. They can sort and prioritize threats and defend themselves while simultaneously attacking and neutralizing their assigned targets.”
“Defend themselves?” asked Taylor, somewhat incredulously.
“Yes colonel, they’re designation is AQ-190. Drone technology is moving ahead exponentially, and costs are coming way, way down, York glanced over at Jenkins, “As a matter of fact a week ago we found a crashed drone less than half a mile from the runway and it was not one of ours. Can you believe someone was spying on us and we didn’t even detect it? The alien conspiracy nuts likely launched it from a nearby mountain. I’m sure if they got any good footage it will be on You Tube.” He shook his head,“We turned it over to the FBI.”
“Unreal,” said Taylor.
“Anyway, we no longer have to risk pilot’s lives to go after significant threats, such as advanced air defense systems. Did you know that nearly one-third of the systems in typical fighter are devoted to keeping the pilot alive?” York thought for a moment and then added, “I guess I have to tell you that as a fighter pilot, I really hate these things – I will soon be out of a job.” The men chuckled. “I believe the F-35 might very well be the last manned fighter ever developed and deployed by us,” he lamented.
“These drones are really that good?” Taylor asked, not sure he believed the major entirely.
“Yes,” replied York nodding. “As I’m sure you know, for the past week, since the sinking of the Iranian ship, the Iranians have been engaging in hit and run tactics with small boats against our ships. The navy has been blowing them out of the water. But we hear it’s about to get real ugly over there. The intelligence folks have verified the Iranians have installed the newest Russian-made SA-300 surface-to-air missile defense system in at least half-dozen locations. Our people have taken a look the system, and we even have one set up over on Range Seventy-four near Tonopah. It is a formidable weapon, we tested it against the F-22 and F-35, and it did very well. Intelligence estimated that non-stealth aircraft could suffer losses of as high as forty percent if used to attack high-value, well defended targets in Iran. So, that’s why you are here. Let’s go take a look.”
* * * *
Maddy’s cell phone began to ring as she was making her way down the hall to Lowe’s office. She saw on the screen she had a text message from Mark.
- Dinner tonight? – On me. You pick the place.
She thought for a moment.
- Sure. Seafood Grotto. Seven Pm, she replied,
In a few seconds she got his reply.
-I will pick you up at 7, your house.
Maddy put the phone away as she entered Lowe’s office. She really hoped and prayed she could rebuild her relationship and her marriage.
“Glad to have you back Maddy,” said Lowe, seated at the head of his conference table. “I read the summary report you forwarded, and want to get together with you and go over it as soon as possible. I sent you an invite in Outlook.”
Okay, I will check my calendar, and start reading through all my e-mails,” Maddy replied.
Lowe nodded and looked down at a document on his desk. “Please sit down. I also have something else,” he said. “I got it yesterday. It was hand-delivered, if you can believe it.”
“Not too much of that anymore,” Maddy acknowledged.
“Maddy, the source for this intelligence is extremely sensitive and has been redacted by CIA. It did not originate from any of our usual sources,” he said. “I thought you should see it since you have put so much time and effort into this suspected Iranian bomb project.”
Lowe passed her the document. “Without the source it will hard to verify, general.”
“Even I wasn’t allowed to know the source,” said Lowe. “But if I had to guess, I would say Russian. The source is likely taking a great risk, but felt it is important enough that we should to see it.”
Maddy read through it and mumbled, “Obviously from Natanz, and knowledgeable in nuclear technology.” She read through more. “Look at this,” she exclaimed, reading portions out loud, “Underground chamber, would estimate almost eighty meters by fifty meters, completely filled with advanced gas centrifuges. Set up in what appeared to be a tandem cascading configuration. Must have been over eight-hundred units. Board mounted on wall with a flow chart drawn on it. Had a diagram which appeared to depict UF6 flow input and output. A number written next to the input read forty-percent. Numbers written next to each output read sixty-percent and eighty-percent.” Maddy sat quietly for a few moments and then looked directly at Lowe. “They’re building a bomb, general.”
* * * *
The three men took a short ride in York’s government car to hangar twelve and went inside. There in the hangar sat two flying wing aircraft. They were similar in shape to the RQ-170 drone, but larger.
“As I told you, by any standards, these AQ-190 drones are far more advanced than any others. Unlike their predecessors, the Predators and Reapers which required a pilot controlling the drones from a ground station, these drones can be pre-programmed to fly an entire mission,” said York. The officers stood listening attentively. “Their range is over one-thousand miles and remarkably they can even be refueled in flight,” said York. He thought for a moment, and then added, “By a Goddamn refueling drone…and don’t tell anyone I told you that.�
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“Unreal,” said Stevens.
York slid his hand along the drone’s wing. “The most sophisticated computer guidance and sensor system ever installed in a drone enables it to fly complex missions without human intervention,” said York. “Not only will these drones attack targets on the ground, but when properly configured, they can engage enemy fighters and other drones as well…they can become fucking aces.”
“Oh come on,” Taylor said, wondering how long it would be before pilots were no longer needed.
York went on, “Their on-board sensors can detect and track the radar emissions and the heat signature from other aircraft. Then they can launch radar homing or IR guided missiles. The entire fleet of twenty-four stealthy AQ-190 drones will be shipped to a joint use base in Saudi Arabia located about one-hundred miles north of Riyadh. This will put them within easy striking distance of targets in Iran.
“I assume that’s our destination?” asked Taylor.
“Yes,” replied York. “The special rack system installed in your C-17 at Palmdale enables you to load and haul three partially disassembled drones.”
Taylor nodded.
“The Pentagon ordered us to configure twelve drones with four internal HARM missiles each, to attack ground air defense sites another twelve will be fitted with Hellfire missiles to attack infrastructure and communication hubs. While we have been going over this information, two AQ-190 drones with wings partially folded were covered with tarps and towed to hanger eighteen. Then they were loaded onto your C-17. Once they are secured, we’ll open the hangar doors and you can head out,” said York.
“Okay, and when do we go?” asked Taylor.
“As soon as you are loaded, here are your flight orders Colonel,” York replied, reaching into a manila envelope he was carrying. “I’ve been told you have enough fuel on board for the first leg, and you will hit a tanker along the way.”
Taylor reviewed the orders then passed them to Stevens. “When will we be loaded,” he asked York.
“Should be ready now, I’ll take you back to hangar eighteen,” York replied.
They left and got into York’s car, then drove past the other hangers to the large hangar eighteen. “I wonder what other secret stuff you’ve got hidden in those hangars,” asked Taylor, laughing.
“If I told you…well you know,” replied the major, chuckling. They arrived at the hangar and went in through a side door.
“We’re loaded and ready to go, colonel,” announced the loadmaster standing next to the aircraft. With the plane’s cargo doors still open, they could clearly see the drones.
“Good luck,” offered York as he turned and walked back to his vehicle. The crew boarded and went through their checklists as the large hangar doors opened and they started the C-17’s engines.
“Ghost two-seven, hangar eighteen, ready to taxi,” said Taylor.
“Ghost two-seven taxi via Charlie taxiway to runway three-two,” directed the tower’s ground controller.
“Taxi via Charlie to three-two,” Stevens read back, as the C-17 lumbered out of the hangar.
“Your takeoff,” Taylor informed his co-pilot, just before calling the tower. “Tower, Ghost two-seven’s ready to go.”
“Line up and wait, runway three-two,” instructed the tower controller.
“Line up and wait, runway three-two,” replied Taylor.
“Ghost two-seven, winds calm, cleared for takeoff,” directed the controller.
“Cleared for takeoff,” replied Taylor, as Stevens smoothly advanced the throttles. The C-17 lifted off with its cargo of two advanced AQ-190 drones inside and ready to make history.
* * * *
The Persian Gulf area was strangely quiet. The mines Iran had put down were being quickly swept back up by the U.S. and British navies. It seemed neither side wanted an all-out confrontation. In the Oval Office, a briefing was about to begin which would show that cyber warfare was going to change the face of warfare forever. The president was seated at his desk as Generals Bingham and Stein entered.
“Mr. President, I believe you know General Stein, the commanding general of U.S. Cyber Command?” announced Bingham. Acosta got part way up from his chair and reached across the desk to shake Stein’s hand. “Yes I do – General. Please sit down gentlemen, anyone want coffee?”
“No thank you,” and “No sir,” were the replies.
“I see from my executive summary you have been working on an incredibly sensitive project, something called ‘Kill Switch,” said Acosta.
“Yes sir, we’re putting the finishing touches on it now,” Stein replied, as he and Bingham each removed a folder from their attaché cases.
“Please continue general. I have the program’s main bullet-points here in front of me.”
“Just a brief background first Mr. President,” said Stein, explaining, “It’s U.S. Cyber Command’s job to help defend American military networks from attack and also to engage in cyber-attacks on other countries' infrastructure and military systems. Stein pressed the button on a remote to start a PowerPoint presentation which had been set up for him. “Gentleman, on slide one you can see the overall reach we will have. Much of what we are about to do has never been done before, and we have the STUXNET virus as a proof of concept.” He paused and then went on, “Two viruses, ASTRO and MAXIMUS have already been uploaded into Iran’s main air defense radar system and command and control servers. When we send the instructions at the appropriate time, ASTRO will spread in minutes and cause all their radar screens to display false targeting information. The more they try to isolate the problem, the more the virus will spread. MAXIMUS is even more pernicious and unstoppable. It already resides on Iran’s new internal internet servers and routers. Our programmers jumped for joy a couple of years back when Iran’s leadership decided to create their own internet, isolated from the world-wide web. It meant that we didn’t have to worry about the virus spreading outside of the target country; no leakage like what happened with STUXNET.”
“Yes, let’s not let that happen,” Alby added, emphatically.
Stein nodded. He continued through the presentation laying out the capabilities of the cyber-warfare offensive systems.
“Combined, these will give us full access to Iran’s military command and control networks.
“How will you know when to activate all this?” inquired Acosta.
“The Joint Chiefs will make the call at the appropriate time,” replied Stein.
“Mr. President, we know the Russians have helped Iran set up a solid air defense system, but we also know exactly how their systems are interconnected,” explained Bingham.
Stein waited for a few moments and then enthusiastically added, “DIA has a source in Russian Frontal Aviation and NSA also hacked their servers and routers. Mr. President, if war with Iran should break out, at the right time all we have to do is send a command through their networks and virtually all their air defense systems will go down…it’s like having one big kill-switch. We will also cripple their civilian leadership’s communications systems…and damn near everything else connected to a network over there.
“You are very confident generals…but what is they say about a military plan? It is only good for the first few seconds of combat?” Acosta gently reminded them.
“Yes sir, said Stein,” smiling slightly, as he set the remote down.
“Mr. President, all this will be used in conjunction with electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, bombs,” Bingham added. “Also our new AQ-190 autonomous stealth attack drones have the latest ‘Have Gold’ airborne jamming platform on-board. He paused, and then closed with, “Iran’s formidable military assets will be crippled and then destroyed, while we minimize our losses.” He closed up his folder. “Any questions Mr. President?”
“No, generals, I just pray we never have to use all that high-tech stuff. Thank you both for the very informative briefing.” Acosta glanced down at his watch and then stood up. “I remain hopeful a peaceful solution can be
found,” said a somber Acosta, knowing now there was little chance.
* * * *
All DIA resources continued to be focused on the deteriorating situation in the Persian Gulf. Iran was threatening large scale military action if the U.S. did not immediately remove all its naval forces from the region. Requests for updated intelligence on Iranian military assets were pouring in from the Joint Chiefs.
Barillas and his staff had to set aside the intelligence on the Iranian nuke program and redirect their efforts. By chance he happened to take one last look at the results of the NSA communications intercepts Maddy had requested on Javadi, Namazi and Benuit and certain key words. They had recently arrived and the hard-copies placed in the stack with the others. In one was a reference an Oghab-Three. He did a quick Google search finding ‘oghab’ means eagle in Persian, and was also the name given to an obsolete Iranian rocket-boosted artillery round. He highlighted it. What the hell is it? he wondered, as he made himself an electronic reminder and then placed the intercepts into a safe. It would have to wait.
* * * *
At Ramat-David Air Base in Northern Israel, a briefing on the latest threats was in progress for IAF Northern Command, Commander General Samuel Ben-Artzi.
“General, we have confirmation that a shipment of six SA-300 missiles has arrived in Lebanon. Hezbollah successfully smuggled them out of Syria two days ago.”
Ben-Artzi interrupted, “Smuggled, or were given, colonel?”
“Not sure general,” Colonel Hamon replied. “Mossad sources indicate they are being stored in a warehouse located here. He pointed to a location on a map laid out on a table as he spread some photos out on top of the map. “Here’s the imagery,” he added.
“Right next to an apartment building, of course,” said Ben-Artzi, looking at the photos and disgusted with what he saw. “They want us to kill civilians, so we can look like demons.”