by Ted Halstead
“Commander Khalilli, can your missile launcher defend us from helicopter attack?”
Khalilli’s voice in response sounded genuinely puzzled. “Yes, sir. The S-300’s radar will spot helicopters even at low altitude from over a hundred kilometers away.”
Hamid gritted his teeth. “I’m not talking about helicopters approaching us on this plateau. What if they flew along the escarpment, and popped up alongside us at the last moment?”
There was a long pause, which Hamid let continue without comment. He wanted the man to think.
“Sir,” Khalilli said carefully, “I am glad you brought that possibility to my attention. It is a likely tactic, since I understand the enemy has Apache helicopters. Our crew will be watching for any sudden appearance by unknown contacts, and engage them immediately. Without this conversation, we might have thought such contacts an anomaly. Now, we will understand just how they could have appeared close to us without prior warning.”
Hamid grunted. “Good, Commander. Enemy armor is approaching. I think it’s likely Apaches are going to join in the attack as soon as their tanks are in range.”
“Very well, sir,” Khalilli said confidently. “We'll be ready.”
Hamid ordered his T-90s and the Armata to the front of his force, and along with the other Zulfiqar-3s fell in behind them. Though ready to die, Hamid wasn’t about to take unnecessary risks until they got to Riyadh.
The 2A46 125 mm smoothbore cannon in the T-90 could fire multiple types of ammunition, but for this battle had been loaded with armor-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot rounds. These particular rounds were the
3BM44M "Lekalo" with tungsten alloy sabots which would be fired at a muzzle velocity of 1,750 meters per second, and had the ability to penetrate 650 mm of armor at a range of two kilometers.
The T-90 had an autoloader that carried twenty-two ready-to-fire rounds in its carousel, and could reload in less than eight seconds. That meant Hamid’s ten T-90 platoons would be able to deliver nearly nine hundred Lekalo rounds with only three minutes needed to reload the shells.
Of course, that didn’t include the time needed to aim the T-90’s cannon accurately. This had been a major worry for Hamid prior to his unit’s last deployment to Syria, their first after receiving the T-90. Their T-90MS tanks included the same “Kalina” automatic target tracker and fire control computer installed in the T-14 Armata. Capable of automatically tracking and continuously locking the T-90’s main gun on a target, it had been a godsend for Hamid, since he had not been able to spend as much time as he’d have liked on training many of his tanks’ crewmen.
Now Hamid was going to see just how effective the T-90 was against the Saudis. Since the best the Syrian rebels had managed to field against him had been some captured T-55 Syrian Army tanks, all he knew for sure was that this would be a greater challenge.
The Kalina system had locked in the M60s as valid targets from a range of nearly four kilometers, in spite of the Pattons’ deployment of a smoke screen.
Since Hamid had ordered the T-90s’ gunners to wait until the M60s were in the Lekalo rounds’ maximum effective range of three kilometers, it gave him plenty of time to ensure they were aiming at separate M-60s.
When the T-90s opened fire on the Pattons, not a single M60 had tried to engage the enemy tanks. Hamid correctly concluded that the M60s’ commander didn’t believe they had a real chance of hitting his tanks from a three-kilometer range.
The same was certainly not true for his T-90s. Their initial salvo left thirty-eight M60s either immobile or destroyed, with most actually catastrophic hits. Even from three kilometers, Hamid could see multiple tank turrets thrown clear either by the force of a direct sabot hit, or by secondary explosions of fuel and ammunition inside the Pattons.
Now there was finally answering fire, as the enemy’s M1A2 tanks rolled forward to replace the Pattons. At the same time, Hamid was notified over his headset that Apache helicopters had launched the attack he’d expected. Two minutes later Commander Khalilli told him four Apaches had been destroyed, and for now there were no other contacts.
So far in spite of the Abrams tanks’ best effort only three hits had registered against Hamid’s T-90s, and only a single hit had actually managed to kill one. This impressive record was due to the T-90’s three-layer defensive approach. The first was the T-90’s composite armor, the second its Kontact-5 explosive reactive armor, and the third its Shtora-1 countermeasures suite. Shtora-1 included two active infrared jammers, four laser warning receivers, and two smoke grenade launchers that deployed automatically whenever the T-90 was painted by an enemy targeting system.
By contrast, the Saudi M1A2 tanks lacked the depleted uranium that made the American models difficult to penetrate, had no reactive armor, and manually deployed smoke. Many were killed so quickly they never had the chance, not that it would have mattered. The real surprise was that at a three-kilometer range they were able to damage the T-90s at all.
Just as Hamid thought uneasily that the battle was going too well, Commander Khalilli was yelling over his headset, “Attack drones!” An instant later, a loud explosion behind his tank sent ice through his veins, as he thought to himself the launcher must have been hit.
Several minutes later, Hamid’s fears were proved groundless as Commander Khalilli’s voice came over his headset again to report that three Reaper attack drones had been shot down, and that once again there were no enemy air contacts visible. He also reported that the R-330ZH automated jammer had been destroyed as well as several of their tanks, though he couldn’t say which model. Hamid shook his head with resignation, acknowledging to himself that knowledge of all the different tank models Iran was currently fielding was a bit too much to expect from his missile launch commander.
A quick look answered his principal question- had one of the tanks the Reapers destroyed been the Armata? The answer “no” came in the form of the T-14 firing a 9M119M Refliks anti-tank missile at a Saudi M1A2. With the ability to punch through nearly a meter of armor, any hit was likely to be a kill. So far, the Armata had accounted for the destruction of seven M1A2 tanks on its own, and still stood untouched.
That particular Refliks anti-tank missile ended Jamal Al-Qahtani's dreams of promotion, as it punched through the front armor of his M1A2 tank.
Fortunately, besides the R-330ZH Hamid had brought another tracked electronic warfare vehicle, the smaller 1L262E RTUT-BM. Though its main purpose was to defeat radar-guided warheads, its operator had assured him that it could also jam enemy communications, though over a shorter distance than the R-330ZH.
The commander of the remaining Saudi tanks finally did what Hamid imagined he would have done even earlier. He retreated.
Hamid let the pitiful handful of Saudi tanks and APCs remaining escape, while he collected survivors from the few tanks the Saudis had been able to damage. Even a task as delightful as destroying Saudi tanks had to take second place to his primary objective- leveling as many palaces and government buildings in Riyadh as possible.
There was no doubt that the Saudis had hundreds of M1A2 tanks on their way back from Yemen that could turn up any moment. Hamid knew that even if many of his tanks were better, they couldn’t overcome a force twice their size, or even more.
No, there was no substitute for speed. Now that he had brushed this obstacle out of his way, nothing was going to stop Hamid from making it to Riyadh.
Chapter Thirty
The White House, Washington, DC
President Hernandez looked up as Chief of Staff Chuck Soltis came hurrying into the Oval Office. He thought he'd seen every expression possible on Soltis' face, but not this odd combination of excitement, worry, and near panic. At the same moment, he noticed a red light flashing on his phone that told him of an incoming call. Since he had none scheduled, he assumed that's why Soltis was here.
He was right. Soltis stood in front of his desk for a moment, clearly out of breath, and then forced out, "Sir, the new Iranian Supreme Leader is on the
phone, and says he wants our help in getting their invasion force to surrender."
Hernandez leaned back in his chair, and gestured for Soltis to sit down, which he did gratefully.
"OK," Hernandez said, "new Iranian Supreme Leader. Do we know that really is whoever's on the other end of the phone?"
"We think so, sir," Soltis replied. "We got a call first from the Iranian Ambassador to the UN in New York, who introduced him and said that he had been elected Supreme Leader by the Assembly of Experts after the old Supreme Leader died. His name is…," and then after a look at the notes in his hand, "Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Vahid Turani." He then handed the notes to Hernandez.
"Interesting. Wasn't the previous Supreme Leader in a coma for months?
Quite a coincidence that he happened to die just now, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Soltis replied, nodding. "You'll see in my notes that within the past hour the CIA received an unconfirmed report that he was assassinated by the Pasdaran."
Hernandez shook his head. "Pasdaran. Also known as the Revolutionary Guards? Isn't this exactly the sort of thing they were supposed to guard against?"
Soltis shrugged. "Yes, sir, but as you know our understanding of what's happening in Iran has always been limited. No US Embassy in Tehran since 1979, any American who visits risks being arrested on any pretext and effectively becoming a government hostage… getting good information about Iran has been a challenge for a long time."
Hernandez grunted. "And now the new Supreme Leader wants to help get the Iranians just outside Riyadh to surrender. Now, this isn't the same fellow who's been acting as Supreme Leader over the past months, right? I don't remember his name, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't…" Hernandez paused as he looked over Soltis' notes. "Turani," he finished.
"No, sir," Soltis said. "If you look a bit further down the notes, there's another unconfirmed report that the Ayatollah who had been acting Supreme Leader, Reza Fagheh, has been executed."
"Right," Hernandez said slowly, as he read further down the page of notes.
Soltis added, "Fred Popel is on his way here from State and I'm sure he could do a better job of explaining all this, but since this Turani fellow says he can stop the invasion, I thought you'd want to talk to him right away."
Hernandez nodded, and said, "Chuck, remind me about how they handle politics in Iran the next time I complain about having to negotiate with Congress."
"Yes, sir," Chuck said, smiling. General Robinson, the Air Force Chief of Staff, then walked in and Soltis added, "I asked the General to join us in case whatever help Turani wants involves the military, sir. He was already in the building for a meeting."
Hernandez nodded, and waved Robinson to the other chair in front of his desk. "Well, I guess it's time to see what he wants."
Hernandez punched the button that put the call on speaker. "This is President Hernandez. Who am I speaking with?"
The voice that responded spoke in careful, accented, but perfectly understandable English. "I am Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Vahid Turani. I have just been elected Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran by the Assembly of Experts. I am speaking to you without an interpreter to try to ensure there is no… miscommunication, but have an interpreter here if one is needed."
Hernandez replied, "I have with me General Robinson, the Air Force Chief of Staff, and the White House Chief of Staff, Chuck Soltis. I understand you would like our help in communicating with your forces outside Riyadh, to persuade them to surrender."
There was a long pause, followed by, "Yes, that is correct. You should soon receive the text of the message I plan to send to them by radio. It is important that they hear my voice, which I am sure they will recognize."
Chuck hurried out to see whether any message had been received.
"Are you sure that they will follow your orders?" Hernandez asked. "I understand that you are not the person who sent them on this mission."
The answer this time was quicker. "It's true, I am not the one who sent them to attack a fellow Muslim nation. I am also not the one who attacked that same nation with nuclear weapons, and tried to do so with chemical weapons as well. But I think I can get our soldiers outside Riyadh to listen to me."
Hernandez nodded, and asked, "If you did not do these things, who did?"
Now the answer came instantly, and bitterly. "The criminal who for months had the title of Acting Supreme Leader, Reza Fagheh. He has already been tried, and answered for his crimes."
"I see," Hernandez said, as Soltis returned carrying a fax message in his hand. "Just a moment, please," he said, and pressed the hold button.
"From the Iranian Mission to the UN," Soltis said. "It's the text he proposes to read to his troops. It's pretty chilling stuff, sir."
Hernandez nodded. "Before I get into that, General, do we have the capability to do what he's asking, help him relay a radio message to his forces near Riyadh?"
Robinson shrugged and said, "Yes, sir. The Navy has a Triton on station in the Kingdom, and battlefield communication coordination is one of its primary missions. We just need their forces' command network frequency and any authentication codes they use, and we'll give them the frequency to use to communicate with the Triton and a one-time authentication code. We can easily boost the signal and make sure it's heard by any vehicle in the network that has its radio turned on."
Hernandez said, "Excellent," and then read through the proposed message.
Frowning, he punched the hold button to continue the call. "We have the technical capability to do what you request. Let's discuss what you plan to say…"
The Royal Palace, Riyadh
There were many palaces in Riyadh, but when someone talked about "the" royal palace they could only mean one, where the King had his principal residence. The Crown Prince strode forward through its main entrance to meet his father, for what he knew would be a difficult conversation.
He found the King sitting calmly in one of the Palace's many reception areas, reading a book which he put down at his son's approach. After they had completed the usual greetings and picked up their coffee cups from the service laid out before them, the King looked at him shrewdly.
"So, Talal, there have been developments not necessarily to our advantage," the King said, peering at the Crown Prince over his cup.
It took the Crown Prince all of his self-control not to spit out his coffee at the King's reference to the words Emperor Hirohito had used in explaining Japan's surrender to his subjects after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Well, it wasn't such a bad parallel, considering two nuclear bombs had also been dropped on the Kingdom. Fortunately, their casualties had been much lower than those suffered by the Japanese.
"Yes," he replied carefully. "Though the Qatari invaders approaching from the east have been defeated, we were not able to stop the Iranian force coming from the north."
The King nodded. "You now say definitely that the remaining invaders are Iranian. How did we confirm this?"
"We attacked their force with tanks, helicopters and drones. The drones sent back images from close range that our experts say include Zulfiqar tanks, which Iran builds and no nation but Iran uses. Also, the Americans have just contacted us and said they have confirmed the invaders are Iranian," the Crown Prince concluded.
The King shrugged and said, "Very well. In any case, no other nation ever made sense as an attacker from the north. Did the Americans say anything about assisting us against the Iranians?"
Now it was the Crown Prince's turn to shrug. "They claim they can get the Iranians to stop outside the capital, but said nothing about how. Since the battle took place about thirty kilometers north of the airport, I expect their tanks to reach here soon. I have a helicopter waiting outside to take you to the palace in Jeddah."
The King shook his head, and said, "No, Talal. This is my kingdom, and no invader is going to force me from my home. If it is my time to die, so be it."
The Crown Prince frowned and replied, "Father, you have a dut
y to your subjects to live, so that you may continue to provide them with the leadership that has helped our country move forward for so many years. Hundreds of our best tanks will be here from Yemen in a matter of hours, and Ali will be here fresh from his victory over the Qataris even sooner. Together they will sweep these invaders away from the capital. Don't make their victory hollow by waiting for an enemy who desires nothing more than your death."
The King shook his head again, and replied, "No, my son. There is no helicopter for my subjects in the capital. If I cannot protect them here, then I deserve to die, and our family should no longer claim leadership of this nation. Now go, and do whatever you can to stop the Iranians. Whether you succeed or fail, I know we will see each other again soon."
The Crown Prince started to speak, and then stopped and simply nodded.
After kissing his father on both cheeks, he left in an even greater hurry than he had arrived.
Five Kilometers North of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Colonel Hamid Mazdaki grinned, but there was nothing pleasant about his smile. He had just taken a quick look outside his tank’s hatch, and in the distance had been able to see the Kingdom Centre, a three hundred meter tall office building in the center of downtown Riyadh. That meant he would reach the royal palaces today, and be able to begin destroying the legitimacy of the Saudi royal family at a minimum.
If the King and his princes had been foolish enough to stay in their palaces, as they had been claiming over the radio, he might be able to deal with the Saudi royal family even more directly.
To his astonishment, he suddenly heard the voice of Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Vahid Turani over the headset that he and every one of his tankers wore. Hamid realized several things in an instant. The first was that Vahid could only have obtained the frequency he was using to speak to his troops from the men who had sent him on this mission, and that could only have happened if Vahid were now the Supreme Leader.
The next was that in order for Vahid to be speaking to his men here, he either had to be in Saudi Arabia, or his signal was being relayed by someone with a more sophisticated communications capability than his force possessed.