“Hal, I said pull out!” Patrick shouted. “Your ammo is low! Withdraw now and switch backpacks! Do it, now!”
Hal fired two fragmentation and then two high-explosive grenades at the laser unit…which depleted the grenade stores on the backpack. He commanded the spent backpack to drop away. As he ran at almost top speed, he swung his last remaining grenade-launcher backpack off his arm and onto his back…but running so quickly, he couldn’t make it latch into place. He jumped the base perimeter fence in one effortless leap and landed in a low crouching position, less than three hundred yards from the laser site. He readjusted the backpack, felt it latch into place, and received a good “READY” indication in his electronic visor. He quickly aimed at the laser truck…
…and at that instant he was hit by an SA-19 “Grison” missile from a Russian 2S6M Tunguska self-propelled air defense vehicle. The SA-19 was a radar-guided anti-aircraft missile with a secondary anti-tank role. It had a two-stage solid-motor missile with a maximum velocity of a half-mile per second and a ten-pound high- explosive/fragmentary warhead with a contact and laser-triggered proximity fuze. Hal was blown clear off his feet and twenty feet in the air by the tremendous force of the hit.
“Hal!” Patrick shouted. “Do you read me? Hal!”
“I’m…I’m okay,” Hal said. He saw and heard several warning messages and tones, but his dazed mind couldn’t sort them all out. He climbed unsteadily to his feet. He could feel cannon shells peppering his body, but they weren’t doing a fraction of the damage as the…
…and at that instant he was hit by a second SA-19 missile, fired from less than a half-mile away. He was blown head over heels in a cloud of fire and smoke. He was still alive, but his electronic visor was dark, and he could barely hear, let alone decipher, all the warning tones beeping and buzzing in his helmet. He struggled to his hands and knees, trying to command the CID system to clear the faults and let him see again. More cannon fire raked his back, and he felt the concussion as the grenade launcher backpack blew apart.
“Hal, hang on!” Patrick shouted. “PAVE DASHER is on the way, ETE five minutes. Hang on!”
“No…no, don’t come near here,” Hal breathed. He couldn’t make any of his limbs move. For the first time since training and employing the Cybernetic Infantry Device, he felt like he actually was all along — a human being riding inside a hydraulically operated machine, instead of a running, killing, destroying, avenging superman. “I got hit by some big-ass gun and missile thing, a Tunguska I think. It’ll chew up the PAVE DASHER into little bits for sure. Don’t let it come near here, Muck.”
“No! We’re bringing in the Vampires! They’ll take out all the air defenses with the Wolverines and the PAVE DASHER will be able to cruise in and pick you up. Hang in there, Hal. They’re just a few minutes out.”
“Hey, Muck,” Hal said weakly. “We’ve had one hell of a ride, haven’t we?” He could hear Patrick yelling something over the satellite link, but that too was fading, getting darker and weaker by the moment. “We kicked some ass together, didn’t we, boss? I remember…I remember when we first met, Muck. You were the clueless captain, no idea what was happening or what you got volunteered for. I took pity on you, man.”
“Hal! Can you hear me?” he could barely hear Patrick yelling. “The Wolverines are sixty seconds out, and the Dasher is three minutes out! Hang in there, buddy! We’re coming to get you!”
“Now look at you, you sorry mick genius. You’re the boss, Muck, the fucking guru, feared and hated even more than old man Elliott himself.” Hal noticed that his electronic visor was working again, and he also found he could raise himself up by his arms. He looked toward the revetment…and saw that the object they thought was the laser that had destroyed Nano Benneton and the XR-A9 Black Stallion was actually just a trailer loaded with steel pipe and tubes. They had moved the laser long ago, probably right after they had commenced their attacks on the Strongbox’s deployed Shahab missiles, and put this clever decoy in its place.
Hal’s arms lost all their strength, and he rolled over on his back in the hard sandy soil. The 2S6M Tunguska anti-aircraft vehicle was about fifty yards away, its twin 30-millimeter cannons and two loaded SA-19 missile launchers aimed right at him. Hal used the remaining few watts of power left in the CID robot to raise one hand and flash the Tunguska his right middle finger…seconds before the cannons opened fire and forever turned out his lights.
The Wolverine cruise missile made short work of the Tunguska and all other Iranian defenders within five miles of the spot seconds later, and minutes afterward the MV-32 PAVE DASHER tilt-jet aircraft swooped in. Charlie Turlock herself ran out of the jet’s rear cargo ramp, quickly found the shredded remains, and carried him aboard. With two Wolverine cruise missiles providing cover from anymore defenders from the base, the MV-32 lifted off and headed west toward the Iraqi border.
CHAPTER 9
“The situation in Iran is far more complex and dangerous than the media is portraying, Mr. President,” Director of Central Intelligence Gerald Vista said. He was briefing the President and his national security team on recent events in Iran following McLanahan’s operation the day before. “All the media seems to be showing are happy Iranians celebrating the destruction of the Revolutionary Guards. But it’s not quite that simple.
“The army is patrolling the streets of the major cities, and there is a dusk-to-dawn curfew, with violators being shot on sight. The curfew was set up because of reports of Revolutionary Guards soldiers in plain clothes, and displaced al-Quds and komiteh irregulars — the religious and government enforcers among the people — roaming the streets gunning down celebrating civilians and ambushing army patrols and checkpoints. There are already reports of terrorists, jihadists, and Islamic soldiers of fortune on their way to Iran from all over the world to help restore the theocracy.
“General Buzhazi has instituted martial law in Iran, but it’s doubtful if he has control of more than a handful of neighborhoods in Tehran, let alone control of the entire country,” Vista went on. “There are reports of squabbling between Buzhazi, military chief of staff Yassini, and members of the various former monarchies of Iran.”
“So we have an insurgency and possibly a three-way civil war brewing in Iran,” the President summarized, “with no consensus on who should govern. Meanwhile the theocrats, Islamists, and old government are in hiding and could pop up any time. It’s Iraq all over again.” No one had any comments after that last remark — it was too terrible to contemplate. “Any idea where Mohtaj and the Revolutionary Guards high command might be hiding?”
“Tehran was the base of support for all branches of the government, of course, with Qom the choice of the clerics,” Vista explained. “We’ll check all the major cities, but I’d put my money on Mashhad, in the east near the Turkmeni border. Mashhad is the second largest city; it’s an important religious city because of the Emam Reza Shrine; and it has an extensive military infrastructure because it was the city farthest away from the fighting during the Iran-Iraq War. The population sextuples during the annual pilgrimage to the shrine, and that would be an easy way to get recruits and smuggle in supplies.”
“I don’t think we should be hunting down the old government in any case, Mr. President,” Vice President Hershel said. “Let the United Nations and the Iranian people deal with it.”
There was a nod of agreement around the Oval Office. “That’s fine by me,” the President said, obviously relieved. “We’ll pledge our full support for a peaceful resolution to the conflict and full restoration of democratic institutions and the rule of law, yada yada yada.” He rubbed his eyes. “I just want this Iranian thing to be over with, and I certainly don’t want to get bogged down in another ‘peacekeeping’ mission in the Middle East. Patrick? Got all your guys pulled out of there yet?”
“As we speak, sir,” Patrick responded. “The last patrol plane should be refueling over the Persian Gulf on its way back to Diego Garcia. But we still haven’t recovered the body of Captain Lefferts or our missing equipment…”
“As soon as we make contact with Buzhazi or whoever’s in charge out there, we’ll make sure we expect them to locate Lefferts and our equipment and turn them over to us immediately — it’s the least they can do for all the blood and treasure we spent helping them,” the President said. Patrick nodded but said nothing. “Sorry if that’s not the answer you’re looking for, Patrick, but I think we need to back off so hopefully things will simmer down out there.” The President turned to the Secretary of Defense. “Joe, I think the Air Force and Navy can keep an eye on things out there — from a distance, a great distance. I want to send McLanahan’s boys back to their sandbox.”
