down…that’s what the weapon instructor from Battle Mountain said when he…
Suddenly there was a tremendous burst of red and orange light, followed moments later by a tremendous “BOOOM!” so powerful that it knocked Boomer on his butt. “Stud Four, Stud Four…Max, how do you copy?” Dave Luger radioed frantically. “Come in!”
“Bastards!” Dolan radioed back. “I just got hit by a damned RPG round!” Boomer’s skin and fingers instantly turned cold. Were they under attack…?
“Are you OK?” Luger radioed.
“I’m going to blast those motherfuckers into the next century!” Dolan shouted. Boomer heard two or three sharp “CRAACK!” reports and knew that Dolan was firing his electromagnetic rail gun. “I see four armored personnel carriers and maybe one light tank approaching the area. I want…” Suddenly his audio report cut out.
“Stud Four, how do you copy?” Luger radioed. “Stud Four?” Still no response. “Stud Five and Six, Four is still on the move but I’ve lost his audio. I need you to…” At that moment the audio channel was completely blocked by loud squealing, hissing, and popping sounds so loud that Boomer found it hard to concentrate.
Wil Lefferts suddenly came into view, running over between Boomer and the Black Stallion, his MP-5 submachine gun upraised. “Boomer! Where are you?” he shouted.
“Over here!” Lefferts whirled around at the sound, aiming his gun at the voice. “Don’t shoot, you idiot!” Boomer ran over to him, then pulled him down to the ground and shoved the muzzle of the submachine gun away in a safe direction. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“What’s happening?” Lefferts yelled. His voice, and indeed his entire body, was shaking.
“We’re under attack! Let’s get the Stud ready for takeoff!”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the ground force?”
“I’m not going to lose the Stud to whoever’s attacking us,” Boomer said. “Our safest place is in the air. We’ll come back for the ground forces once the attack is over. Let’s go!” Crouching low, Boomer ran over to the spaceplane and climbed aboard, hoping Wil was right behind him. He pulled on his helmet and his lap restraints, flipped on the battery switch, and motored the canopy closed. As soon as he sensed that Wil was aboard, he commanded, “Engine start procedures.”
“Stand by for engine start procedures,” the computer responded. “Beginning before power on checklist.”
“Override,” Boomer ordered. “Begin engine start procedures.”
“Override before engine start checklist. Beginning power on…”
“Override. Begin engine start procedures.” Boomer had to repeat the override command for each of the checklists he wanted to skip, having to wait for the computer’s warning and verification messages each time. It seemed to take forever, but finally the computer was on the right page.
The first human interaction step wasn’t for almost another twenty seconds, so Boomer securely strapped himself into his seat and made sure Wil was doing the same — and then he looked out to his right, and his jaw dropped. Sergeant Max — Boomer wasn’t sure of his last name — was standing less than fifty yards away from the Black Stallion’s right wingtip, the electromagnetic rail gun in his arm, firing into the darkness. Every few seconds he would shift positions, darting back and forth with amazing speed, occasionally going out of sight as he moved away from the XR-A9 or back toward it to block a round fired at it. Seconds after he’d fire there was a tremendous explosion off in the distance, and often several secondary explosions as well. Boomer couldn’t believe he was moving like that after already being hit by a rocket-propelled grenade round!
The sergeant turned toward the Stud and gestured frantically down the road, urging them to take off. The checklist was proceeding normally — still ten seconds to the first hold. Finally Boomer spoke the “Acknowledge” command, verifying that the crew was ready for engine start, and the auxiliary power unit spun up and began shunting compressed air into the number two engine. The big engine took a long time to spin up, but finally it reached twenty-five percent RPMs and the fuel began injecting…
Boomer happened to glance up right before light-off…just in time to see a heavy explosive round hit the sergeant square in the chest, then instantly disappear in a blinding globe of fire. “Oh, shit,” Wil exclaimed. “My God…!”
“Get ready for takeoff — we’re going as soon as we got the power,” Boomer said. He already pre-loaded “Override” commands to the computer — it might not accept any of them except the first one, but he had to do something while he was waiting for the computer to catch up. Finally the first engine was started. Boomer’s first order to simultaneously run the “Before Taxi, Taxi,” and “Before Takeoff” checklists while the other three engines were being started were accepted, and Boomer instantly took manual control of the steering switch and…
At that moment a streak of fire raced out of the darkness, and they felt a massive shudder and heard a deafening “BOOM!” A small explosive round, probably an RPG, hit the Black Stallion’s right main landing gear. The right wing immediately flew upward a few feet, then came crashing down all the way to the ground. “Evacuate! Now!” Boomer cried. He ordered the computer to perform the “Emergency Shut Down” checklist, but it was already being done. He knew the Stud wasn’t going to be flying anytime soon — if ever — so instead of motoring the canopy up, he hit the yellow and black striped “EMER CANOPY” button to blow the cockpit canopy off the aircraft. He hurriedly unstrapped and waited for the canopy behind him to blow before standing up in his seat.
To his shock, Boomer found the aft canopy gone, but Wil was nowhere to be seen. Boomer jumped down off the spaceplane and found his copilot and mission commander lying facefirst on the hard sandy ground. “C’mon, Wil, we gotta get out of here,” he said.
“I’m hit,” Wil muttered, barely audible over the gunfire just on the other side of the plane, getting closer by the second. Boomer couldn’t see any of his wounds, but he could feel the blood covering him everywhere he touched. “Jeez, Boomer, I’m hit…”
“We’re outta here.” Boomer began dragging Lefferts away……just as another explosive ripped across the Black Stallion, sending pieces of composite skin flying in the air atop a column of fire. Boomer, egged on by the feeling that the entire front of his body was afire, kept on going as fast as he could. He knew that the concrete pump house was the only bit of cover nearby, so he pulled and pulled as fast as he…
Just then it appeared as if the entire fuselage of the XR-A9 Black Stallion erupted and burst apart like a child’s balloon. Boomer had a brief sensation of floating in mid-air before hitting something behind him. The cloud of fire and smoke enveloped him, as did several pieces of his beloved spaceplane, and then everything went dark…
“I hope I didn’t offend you, Mr. President,” Azar said. “I am thankful and more than a little surprised to be under the supervision of the president of Turkmenistan himself.” She paused, then asked, “Whom are we waiting for, Mr. President?”
“Your benefactors, Princess,” Turabi said. “I wish I could take all the credit for this event, but I’m doing this as a favor to an old friend.”
“I am still grateful for any assistance you might provide us, Mr. President.”
“Not at all.” Turabi looked at his watch impatiently. “But if your benefactors don’t show up soon, there might be…how shall I say it…unexpected complications.”
“Like what, Turabi?” an electronically synthesized voice said in Turkmeni. The ex — Afghan fighter whirled around. Perched atop a nearby lamppost, completely hidden in the shadows and glare, was a figure in a dark outfit. “What are you doing here?”
Those on the ground could make out no other details — but despite that, Turabi smiled. “Judging by your size and gruff tone of voice, I would say I am speaking to the infamous Master Sergeant Christopher Wohl,” he said. Azar strained to see who Turabi was talking to, but that was impossible. “I am here to make sure this transfer goes smoothly.”
“That was not smart, Turabi,” the voice of Chris Wohl said. “You should get out of here, now.”
“Where is your comrade General Briggs?”
“Never mind the chit-chat, Turabi,” Wohl said. “Turn that armored car around and head for the airport as planned.”
“Very well, very well,” Turabi said. “I will leave the rest in your very capable hands, Master Sergeant.” He shouted orders to the drivers and guards, who closed the doors and boarded the armored car, then motioned to his guards. “Open the gates and let the vehicles pass.” He got into his sedan and, with his guards flanking the vehicle,
