Air Battle Force

nervously fidgeting. Things were starting to get out of control, the photo opportunity lost, and it was time to move on. “In closing, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to say that it is innovations such as Sky Masters’s fuel-cell project that will ensure America’s energy independence and keep us from getting entangled in risky and murky conflicts overseas. America can be strong and energy-independent with the right combination of creative thinking, science, and support from the people and the government. I urge support for my alternative fuels vehicle purchase program bill and my other initiatives that are designed to promote and encourage development of dependable, sustainable sources of energy. Thanks very much, and God bless.” He ignored a loud volley of shouted questions, most of which began to sound more like threats or challenges than mere questions.

The president took several minutes to shake hands — designed to let the live-news outlets terminate their coverage of his press conference while he was pressing the flesh, instead of showing him retreating — and was then escorted to a waiting car to be taken to the airport. There was silence for several minutes after everyone was on board. Finally Robert Goff said, “I apologize for that snafu with the fuel cell, Mr. President. We tested that exchange a half dozen times today alone, and it worked perfectly every time.”

“Those things happen, Robert,” Thorn said, smiling. “Don’t worry about it.”

He turned to watch the televised coverage of the event. The satellite-TV station was showing video of the president with his face next to the exhaust pipe of the SUV, and one of the commentators made a crude remark about the “president’s energy policy being full of hot air” and “high in the ozone.”

“Wish I could’ve thought of another way to show how safe the emissions from those fuel-cell engines are without sticking my face near that tailpipe,” Thorn said wryly.

“We’ll be sure we explain to all the media outlets the point you were trying to make,” Goff said. “That commentator has got his head up his ass anyway.”

“So Martindale is scoring some points in his trip to Venezuela, eh?”

“Sir, Martindale is on TransCal Petroleum’s bankroll to the tune of millions. He probably should be registered as a TransCal lobbyist,” Goff said disgustedly. “He’s spending that money down in Caracas, in the Middle East, in the Balkans, and in Central Asia, trying to gain support for TransCal production deals. Most of those countries still think he’s running the Night Stalkers and will attack if he doesn’t get to meet with the oil ministers.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he was still involved,” Thorn said. Kevin Martindale’s leadership of a group of high-tech mercenaries was one of the biggest nonscandals in years. It made him a roguish legend in America and definitely did not hurt his reelection chances.

“Well, the intimidation factor is definitely working. Most of those countries in turn are financing his reelection campaign.” Thorn was about to say something, but Goff anticipated the remark. “I can’t prove it, but I know it’s happening. He’s hoping that more and more countries warm up to him so it looks like he has support overseas. More support overseas means more American companies feel better backing Martindale for president because it means a stronger dollar and more American clout overseas, which he’s hoping translates to more donations and support here at home.”

“Sounds logical to me.”

Goff looked at Thorn quizzically. “Sir, it’s easy for candidates to throw lots of money around to court companies and governments for support. They’re not on the front lines every day,” Goff reminded the president. “This plan of Martindale’s will backfire because everyone knows who Martindale really is. He talks about peace and harmony and friendship, and then boom! — he sends in the Marines or the stealth bombers and blows the crap out of anyone and everyone who gets in his way. He’s a backstabber, sir, and everyone knows it.”

Thomas Thorn stared blankly at the TV. “Would it work in Turkmenistan, I wonder?” he asked at last.

“What? Sending in the Marines against those Taliban?”

“I was thinking of the bombers,” Thorn said. He pressed a button on a computer keyboard, and the TV image changed to the military briefing page. “Status report on McLanahan’s recovery mission in Turkmenistan: complete success, complete withdrawal of the cruise missile, all personnel extracted, no casualties.”

“The guy’s good — there’s no doubt about that,” Goff said. He waited to see if the president was going to say anything more; when he did not, Goff asked, “What are you thinking, Thomas?”

Thorn was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “Nothing.”

“Having some second thoughts about getting involved in Central Asia?”

“No,” he replied quickly — too quickly, Goff suspected. When he noticed his friend, adviser, and secretary of defense looking questioningly at him, Thorn added, “Martindale is wrong, Robert. The solution to what’s happening in Turkmenistan does not lie in military force.”

“I happen to agree — for now,” Goff said. “The problem remains: Martindale is on the offensive politically. He’s in Venezuela talking to world petroleum ministers, grabbing headlines, and making himself look like a leader. The word is he’ll be heading to Kuwait City to address a meeting of the Gulf States Security Council — the first American ever to do so since the Gulf War. He probably won’t be talking about Central Asia at that particular time. That might be a good opportunity.”

Thorn looked at Goff, then said, “To make a diplomatic move in Turkmenistan?” Goff nodded. “The only way to do that would be to send a high-level delegation.”

“It should be Kercheval. But he doesn’t deserve it now, does he?” Thorn closed his eyes — they both knew the answer to that one. “Maureen Hershel is a good choice. Turkmenistan is Muslim, but it’s run mostly by Soviet- era bureaucrats who know they have to deal with high-ranking women in today’s world. She’s smart, tough, and, best of all, she knows when to keep her mouth shut.”

“Time’s running out. If that Taliban insurgent army gets their grips on the capital, Turkmenistan could fall fast.”

“Let’s give her the go-ahead right away, then,” Goff said. “Let her staff start laying the groundwork for a diplomatic visit and high-level talks.” Thorn nodded his approval. Goff added, “You might even consider bringing a military liaison along. Turkmenistan’s military is very small and run by Russian officers.”

Thorn looked at Goff, then smiled. “You mean McLanahan?”

“Why not? McLanahan has pretty good name recognition and respect here in the U.S., but at the same time he’s not very well known overseas. He’ll have the luxury of relative anonymity. He can look around and talk to folks without calling too much attention to himself. I know you don’t care about political stuff, but the fact remains, McLanahan has pretty good poll numbers — about where Colin Powell was when he was Reagan’s national security adviser.”

“Let’s not get into a discussion again about asking McLanahan to be my national security adviser,” Thorn groaned. “I’ve already got you to tell me where I’m screwing up.” The president thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “There’s an old saying in the military: ‘Screw up and move up.’ McLanahan has done his share of bad decision making lately. I’m not so sure he deserves a plum posting like that.”

Goff shrugged. He certainly couldn’t argue. “I’ll draw up a list of candidates and send it over to State, then present it to you for your approval,” he said.

“I’ll let Miss Hershel pick her own attaches from your list.”

Goff nodded. That was the way Thorn did business — pick good people, then delegate authority to them. It was faster, less stressful on him, and made his staff feel like they were part of the action every step of the way. “In the meantime why don’t we talk to McLanahan and get his thoughts about what’s going on over there.”

“Why him in particular?”

“Because he’s smart, and he’s in command of a unit that could very well be the tip of the spear if we decide to move out there,” Goff said. “Besides, he’s on the way. We’re heading to Lake Tahoe for that environmental- summit thing. There’s plenty of time to reposition the support crews to Battle Mountain. I’ll have General Venti transmit a request for an operational assessment from McLanahan’s unit. We can have Miss Hershel accompany us out there. You can look over McLanahan’s unit and get a briefing directly from him.”

“You’re high on this guy, aren’t you, Robert?” Thorn asked. “Why?”

Goff shrugged. “The same reason I’m high on you, my friend,” he replied with an uneasy smile. “You both have the strength of your convictions. You both know what you believe is right, and you’re not afraid to fight for it.” His eyes danced a bit, and he added, “Besides, I have a feeling it’ll be like the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object when you two get together. Patrick McLanahan on his own home turf, versus the commander in chief. I already know who’ll win — but it’ll still be fun to watch you two get in each other’s faces.”