get away or hide. He might have been a hitchhiker-except for the weird head-to-toe outfit he wore. Both armored personnel carriers' fifty-seven-millimeter cannons trained on the solitary figure as they approached, but the stranger did not move.
'Wa'if hena,' the lead APC commander ordered. The stranger was dressed unlike anyone he had ever seen. It resembled a chemical warfare exposure suit, whichrts why he ordered his column to halt-if there were biochem weapons around, he didn't want to go charging in blindly. 'What in hell does he think he's doing?'
'What kind of uniform is that?' the other commander radioed in response. 'Could it be one of our men, maybe a survivor from Jaghbub? Maybe that's a protective suit he's wearing. Who else would be stupid enough to be walking right up to an armored patrol unarmed in the middle of the day?'
'Ordinarily I'd say yes-but we just lost contact with one of our scout helicopters, which means everyone's an enemy until we find out otherwise. Stay back: I'll go have a chat with him. Everyone else, stay alert.' He ordered his men to dismount. Eight heavily armed Libyan soldiers ran out of the back of the APC and took up defensive positions on either side of the highway. The lead APC then began to roll forward toward the stranger.
The APC hadn't gone fifty feet when suddenly two tanks, one on either side of the highway, disappeared in a ball of fire-the dismounts heard only a faint plink sound, and then the tanks exploded. The soldiers had just enough time to dive for cover in the depression on the side of the highway before they were showered with burning debris. Huge gushes of fire fed from ruptured fuel tanks poured across the desert floor, and the dismounts got to their feet in a hurry and retreated back toward the remaining APCs, firing in the general direction from where those projectiles came.
'Attention, Libyan soldiers,' he said through his electronic synthesizer and translation system. 'I am Castor. I order all of you to surrender immediately. Do not traverse your gun turrets or you will be destroyed.'
'The east tank's turret is moving toward you,' Briggs reported.
'Kill it,' Patrick said. Briggs fired a hypervelocity round into the tank, and it blew even more spectacularly than the first two. That's all it took-one by one, the Libyan soldiers popped hatches and started climbing out of the tanks, hands upraised. 'Your Highness, the Libyans are surrendering,' Patrick radioed to Sanusi. 'You can move-'
The helicopter came out of nowhere, popping over the sand dunes only a few feet above the desert floor-a Mil Mi-24 attack helicopter, fully configured for combat with a four-barreled 12.7-millimeter remote-controlled cannon in the nose and two stubby wing pylons filled with a variety of rocket pods, bombs, and missiles. It was firing its machine guns almost as soon as it popped into sight.
Hal Briggs's position was hit first, and the gunner's aim was perfect. The hail of bullets from the gunship was like a massive swarm of fifty-caliber bees-they were beginning to sting, and after enough stings, they could kill. 'Motherfucker!' Hal Briggs cursed. 'That bastard got my rail gun. Chris has the only one left.'
The Libyan soldiers cheered and dashed back into their vehicles, ready to resume the fight. Chris Wohl turned and aimed his rail gun at the retreating helicopter gunship-but at that moment, another Mi-24 appeared from the east, no more than fifty feet above the desert, and launched a salvo of rockets at Wohl's position, while the gunner started hammering at Patrick with the steerable cannons.
The gunner swung his cannon away from Patrick after only a quarter-second burst, choosing to concentrate fire on the armed stranger and assuming Patrick would go down under the barrage of gunfire. That gave Patrick his chance. As the Mi-24 cruised over the highway, Patrick used his thrusters and leaped at it. He landed on the left side of the helicopter right between the gunner and pilot's cupolas. Patrick drove his left hand through the bow in the pilot's forward windscreen, drove his left foot through the gunner's left window, then punched through the pilot's left window with his right fist.
The pilot screamed. Patrick grabbed the pilot's throat with his armored right hand. 'Wa'if! Awiz aruh hena, ala tul!' he said over the roar of the huge rotor overhead through his electronic translator. 'Stop and land it right here.' The Mi-24's flight engineer, seated right ehind the pilot in a small jump seat, tried to pull Patrick's hand off his pilot's neck-Patrick finally knocked him out with a bolt of electricity from his shoulder-mounted electrodes. Threatened with having his throat crushed, the Libyan pilot set the big gunship down, and Patrick knocked him out too with an electric shock.
Meanwhile, Chris Wohl rolled to his feet and checked over his rail gun-still operational. He was going to line up on the second Mi-24, which was wheeling back around for another pass. 'Sarge! The tank!' He saw that the Libyan tank's crew members had almost reached the entry hatch. He fired one shot that blew the driver's upper torso apart, spattering the entire top of the tank with blood and gore. The other tankers froze and raised their hands in surrender.
Hal Briggs tried to make a jump for the road, but his thrusters wouldn't push into the sand, and he could only jump a few feet into the air. But suddenly, behind him, Muhammad Sanusi's Humvee roared toward him. Without slowing, Sanusi steered right for Hal. With perfect timing, Hal jetted up just before the Humvee reached him, and Hal landed on the Humvee's hard top. He clutched onto the roof as the Humvee roared toward the highway. Just before reaching the highway, Hal jetted off the roof and landed on the easternmost armored personnel carrier just as the last man was climbing aboard. He took command of the 12.7millimeter machine gun on the commander's cupola, swung it around, hit and killed one APC commander who was covering his men, then raked machine-gun fire over the heads of the other APCs beside him until the crews froze with their hands in the air.
The second Mi-24 was coming around again. Wohl turned to fire at it, but the rail gun was out of commission, damaged in the rocket attack. The Mi-24 attack helicopter's steerable cannon lined up on Sanusi's Humvee. Hal fired from the commandeered Libyan APC, but the Mi-24's armor was too strong and the bullets had no effect. 'Chris! Tag that son of a bitch!' But he saw in his own electronic visors that their last rail gun was out of commission. 'Look out!'
Suddenly, a small explosion erupted on the right side of the Mi-24. Another of Sanusi's Sandstorm warriors in what looked like a World War II-vintage jeep had fired an RPG round at the helicopter, missing the tail rotor and cockpit and hitting only the heavily armored side. The Mi-24 wheeled in an impossibly tight right turn and fired a rocket salvo, and at that range the attack was devastating. The jeep exploded in a twisted, burning hunk of metal. Hal continued to fire on the Mi-24, hoping that his shells would hit something vital, but he couldn't tell if he was hitting anything at all.
Then he saw Sanusi's Humvee stop, and Muhammad asSanusi himself climbed out, went into the back of the vehicle, and emerged with a man-portable Stinger missile system. But the Mi-24 pilot saw him at the same time, and he wheeled the helicopter left to line up on him-the nose cannon was already leading into the turn. 'Sanusi! Take cover!' Briggs shouted.
But Sanusi stood his ground. With his men firing rifles at the oncoming helicopter, the king stood calmly, his feet together, and hefted the Stinger to his right shoulder. He activated the battery, powered on the unit, then pulled a lever with his right thumb, uncovering the missile's seeker head. The Mi-24's cannon started firing long before the pilot finished the turn, and at less than a mile away, he couldn't miss. The shells made a rooster tail of sand race across the desert, headed right for Sanusi. The ripple of sand reached the king just as Sanusi pulled the launch trigger and sent the Stinger blasting out of the launch tube.
The missile exploded on the Mi-24 gunship's left engine intake, and the force of the explosion followed by the complete destruction of the left engine caused the Mi-24's main rotor to fly off in a cloud of fire. The helicopter plunged straight forward into the desert floor, then flipped upside down on its back before exploding less than a hundred meters from where the king of united Libya stood.
It was as if everyone, including the Libyan soldiers, were stunned motionless as they saw the sand and dust settle and King Idris the Second still standing, holding the Stinger launcher triumphantly in one hand, laughing loudly as the smoke and debris from the wrecked helicopter gunship wafted near him-but it was as if even the smoke and flames dared not touch him. His men cheered as they rolled up to cover him, but Zuwayy's soldiers did not try to run or fight-instead, moments later, they joined in the cheering.
'Pretty good shooting, Your Highness,' Patrick said as he and the other Night Stalkers joined him a few moments later.
'Shukran gazilan,' Sanusi replied. He looked at the other Mi-24 gunship and nodded happily. 'Pretty good piece of flying yourself, Mr. McLanahan.' Sanusi's men were already taking possession of the vehicles that were still intact-one T-60 tank, four armored personnel carriers, and a Mil Mi-24 helicopter gunship.
To Patrick's surprise, Sanusi's men and a good number of the Libyan soldiers were greeting each other like longlost brothers-the Libyan soldiers were tearing off insignia and patches that had anything to do with Zuwayy's regime, and Sanusi's men were giving the defecting soldiers imperial insignia to wear. Moments later, they were all
