Plan of Attack

missiles coming in from three different directions, very high altitude. We count at least six flights so far. First missile impacts in three minutes!”

“All Bobcat forces, all Bobcat forces, launch without delay!” Patrick ordered. “Take ten-second spacing, fan out after liftoff. Move! Move!”

The first two EB-1C Vampire bombers were off within seconds — they had already lined up on the runway and were about to begin their takeoff roll. The AL-52 Dragon took much longer than expected, but soon it was rolling down the runway, with the KC-10 right behind it, almost obscured in the Dragon’s dark engine exhaust.

“Go, Summer, go!” Patrick shouted to his aircraft commander. “Get right behind the tanker! Go!” When Summer actually pulled the throttles back to make the turn onto the runway, Patrick shoved the throttles to full military power himself. The tight turn made the wheels slip and skid on the ungrooved pavement, and it felt as if O’Dea might not be able to hold it, but she finally got it lined up on the runway by the time the engines spooled up to full power.

“Dave, Yakutsk is under attack!” Patrick said over his subcutaneous transceiver. “Get the MC-17s airborne now!”

“General…” Luger hesitated, then went on. “Sir, there’s no way. They weren’t even halfway from loading up all the personnel — they haven’t even started engines. I directed them to get into shelters.”

“Damn it, Dave, no!”

“It’s the only chance they have, Patrick,” Luger said, the anguish painfully evident in his voice. “I…I had to make a decision. There are plenty of underground shelters there — it’s the only chance they have,” he repeated.

Patrick cursed into his oxygen visor, but there was nothing he could do except watch his supercockpit display as the battle began to unfold.

The incoming missiles were all visible, and now, as Patrick watched, the launch aircraft also became visible: The AL-52 Dragon already airborne over Yakutsk had locked on to one of them with the laser’s adaptive optics, so he could see an image of a group of two flights, each with four Tupolev-160 Blackjack supersonic bombers, flying at very high altitude from the south, firing supersonic missiles; another group of three flights of four Blackjacks coming in from the southwest, launching more missiles; and a group of two flights of six Tupolev-22M Backfire bombers coming in supersonic from the west-southwest.

There were several hypersonic cruise missiles inbound as well; Patrick couldn’t see on his display where they were launched from, but now it didn’t matter — they were going to hit in just a few seconds, unless the anti- ballistic-missile weapons on board his Dragons and Vampires could stop them.

Gryzlov was launching everything he had at Yakutsk, in the final showdown between American and Russian bombers.

The Dragon engaged the oncoming missiles from maximum range. At first it engaged the hypersonic cruise missiles heading toward Yakutsk itself, shooting down several of them right away, but then it directed its firepower toward other supersonic missiles being fired by the Backfires — because their target was not Yakutsk, but the AL- 52 Dragon itself. The Vampire crew guarding Yakutsk launched four long-range AIM-154 Anaconda missiles, two at Russian cruise missiles and finally two at the Backfire bombers. The Megafortress bomber on guard launched a stream of AIM-120 Scorpion missiles.

But they weren’t fast enough to catch the mass of AS-17 Krypton missiles fired by the Backfire bombers. Three missiles simultaneously hit the Dragon, sending it crashing in flames to the Siberian tundra.

The two Vampires that had launched from Yakutsk engaged the Backfire bombers with Scorpion missiles, downing the remainder of the bombers from the first flight and two from the second flight. But the Megafortress bomber that was already airborne had quickly expended its supply of defensive missiles, and when it turned to escape the area, it was hit by two AS-17 missiles and exploded in a tremendous cloud of fire. The Vampires avenged it by downing the remaining four Backfire bombers from long range with Scorpion missiles.

The second Dragon aircraft turned south immediately after takeoff and began engaging the incoming bombers — but by then every Blackjack bomber had launched its missiles at Yakutsk: supersonic AS-16 “Kickback” missiles, one every ten seconds. Each Blackjack bomber pumped two dozen Mach-2 missiles into the sky.

“Missiles inbound, missiles inbound!” Patrick cried on the command channel. “Take off two at a time! Hurry!”

But time had run out. Three Megafortresses and two Vampires had launched, and two Vampires were turning onto the runway just seconds behind another, when the first AS-X-19 Koala missile exploded five thousand feet aboveground and less than a mile north of Yakutsk. Its small, one-kiloton nuclear warhead did not touch the ground, but it didn’t need to — the overpressure caused by the explosion created a ripple of force that radiated outward like an erupting volcano, sweeping over the air base in the blink of an eye.

Three more missiles also exploded over Yakutsk, but by then the devastation had already been done. Every building, structure, aircraft, and human being aboveground within two miles of each detonation was tossed hundreds of yards across the flat plains of Siberia like dust in a windstorm, crushed beneath several thousand pounds per square inch of pure nuclear horror, or swatted out of the sky and squashed into the ground like a clay pigeon hit by a shotgun blast.

Ryazan’ Alternate Military Command Center, Russia

Several hours later

This is President Thorn.”

“Greetings, Mr. President,” Anatoliy Gryzlov said, his voice light and cheerful. His interpreter quickly translated on the hot line. With him in the underground Ryazan’ Alternate Military Command Center was the chief of the general staff, Nikolai Stepashin, and other members of the general staff.

“Called to gloat, Gryzlov?”

“I called to express my admiration and respect for General McLanahan and all the brave men and women under his command,” Gryzlov said, lacing his tone with as much triumph as he could. He thought he could hear Thorn gritting his teeth in anger. “I must say, I tried my best to anticipate the general’s actions, and he stayed one step ahead of me the entire time. He very nearly succeeded in attacking my missile bases and mobile-missile units. Very impressive.”

“Attacking your what?”

“Did I not tell you, Thorn?” Gryzlov asked sarcastically. “We have sent rescuers in to Yakutsk. They may not stay on the ground for very long, they must wear many layers of protective clothing, and we will allow a man to go in only once, for no more than thirty minutes, but we have communicated with many American survivors.”

“Survivors? There are Americans still there, in Yakutsk?”

“Apparently the general wisely decided to get the ones into shelters that could not make it off the ground in time,” Gryzlov said. “We count one hundred and four Americans, men and women, in our underground shelters, safe and sound. The officer in charge is Air Force Colonel Harold Briggs. He has given us only his name, rank, and date of birth.”

“I want those men and women released immediately, Gryzlov,” Thorn said.

“Don’t be stupid, Thorn,” Gryzlov said. “I would not release them even if I could. They are prisoners of war and will be treated as such. But we have not learned a safe way to get them out without exposing ourselves to radiation. They are quite safe where they are, and we believe they have enough food and water to last until the radiation levels subside. They have sealed themselves inside a prison, and there is where they shall stay until we can put take them out and place them in custody.” “You are obligated to keep them safe, provide them with medical attention, food, and water, let them communicate with the International Red Cross, and abide by all the other provisions of the Geneva Conventions,” President Thorn said. “I don’t care under what conditions they are imprisoned — conditions you are responsible for creating!”

“And I warn you, Thorn, if those men and women harm any of my soldiers, all of them will be shot dead!” Gryzlov shouted. “I am not in the mood for listening to your whining and bleating. Your troops are responsible for imprisoning several hundred of my soldiers based at Yakutsk — all of whom perished in the attack. Undoubtedly in your troops’ rush to protect themselves, they conveniently forgot to release their captives. I know you have Tin Man commandos among the survivors. They had better think twice before harming any Russian soldiers.”

“Gryzlov, let’s leave the negotiations for our foreign-affairs officers—”

“Quite so, Thorn,” Gryzlov said. “As I was saying, however, we have interrogated other survivors, ones that