Shadow Command

any remote-controlled actions by you regarding the aircraft. We verified the orders. Sorry, sir. What is it I won’t like?”

“One of our spaceplanes has been shot down in eastern Iran, and there are survivors. We need air cover for a rescue operation. The NCA still says no. We want to launch the Vampires anyway.”

“Why won’t the NCA approve the mission, sir?”

“I don’t know why, Saber, but we believe the NCA is worried that our actions over Iran are inciting fear and intimidating everyone in the region.”

“Sir, I received authenticated orders to stand down — us as well as the Vampires. The base commander ordered us to help secure you. You’re asking me to violate those orders.”

“I know, Saber. I can’t order you to violate valid orders. But I’m telling you that the survivors of the spaceplane will be caught and captured or killed if we don’t do something.”

“Who shot down the spaceplane, sir?”

“We believe the Russians did, Saber.”

“Yes, sir,” Daniels said. That was enough for him. Daniels had spent a year in the hospital recovering from radiation poisoning which occurred when the Russian air force used tactical nuclear weapons to destroy their own air base, Yakutsk, that was being used by McLanahan and the Air Battle Force to hunt down and destroy Russian mobile intercontinental ballistic missiles that were being readied to launch a second nuclear attack on the United States. He endured severe dehydration, nausea for days on end, incredible pain, and eventually a liver transplant — but he survived, won the right to go back on active duty, requalified for field operations, rejoined the Battle Force, and took command of a CID team.

He had won, then lost, then won back all the things he ever wanted to do in his life, except one: get some payback for what the Russians did to him, his comrades, and to their own people in Yakutsk.

“You still there, Saber?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have my orders,” Daniels said in a deep monotone voice, quite different from his normally energetic, upbeat tone. “If those planes were to move, I and my team would do everything in our power to protect the Security Forces from harm. Good night, sir.”

* * *

“Genesis to Headbanger.”

“Go ahead, Dave,” Rebecca Furness replied.

“Get ready.”

“Can’t. My grounds crews say the sky cops are still blocking the hangar and taxiways.”

“Get ready anyway.”

“Did you order your guys to take out the sky cops?”

“No, ma’am, I did not. The base commander ordered the Battle Force team to assist and protect the Security Forces from unauthorized aircraft movement, and that’s what they will do.”

This is crazy, Rebecca told herself for the umpteenth time, utterly crazy. She turned to her operations officer, Brigadier General Daren Mace: “Daren, start ’em up and launch the Vampires immediately.” She closed her eyes and saw herself standing in front of a court-martial, being sentenced to prison for the rest of the best years of her life; then, thinking about her fellow airmen on the ground in Iran being chased by Pasdaran and Muslim insurgents, opened her eyes and said, “Stop for nothing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mace said. He adjusted the mike on his headset and spoke: “Headbanger, start ’em up and launch without delay. Stop for nothing. Repeat, stop for nothing.”

* * *

“Affirmative, Panther, the APUs are still on, both planes,” the Air Force Security Forces detail team leader reported to NATO base headquarters. It was creepy enough that the APU started and stopped by itself, but ten times more so when the engines did the same. The crew chiefs and assistants for each plane were outside the hangars, per the base commander’s orders.

“This is Panther. Put the fucking senior crew chief on,” the base commander, a Turkish army colonel, ordered in very good English.

“Stand by, Panther.” The SF officer handed his radio to the head crew chief, an Air Force technical sergeant. “It’s the base commander, and he’s steamed.”

“Tech Sergeant Booker here, sir.”

“I ordered those planes shut down, and I mean completely shut down — APUs also.”

“Yes, sir, I know, but you ordered us not to hook the ground power units up either, and without power the command center at Battle Mountain can’t talk to the planes, so I think that’s why the APUs are—”

“Sergeant, I am giving you a direct order: I want those planes completely shut down, immediately, or I will have you arrested!” the base commander screamed. “I do not care if no one can talk to the planes — I do not want anyone to talk to the planes! Now turn off those APUs, and do it now!”

“Yes, sir,” Booker said, and he handed the radio back to the SF officer.

“Detail One here, Panther.”

“I just ordered that tech sergeant to completely shut down those planes, including the APUs — the power units in the tail,” the base commander said. If they do not comply right away, place them all under arrest.” Mallory swallowed hard, then made a gesture to his team members, a sign that said “Get ready for action.” “Do you understand me, Detail One?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“What is that tech sergeant doing right now?”

“He’s going over to the other crew chiefs…he’s gesturing to the planes…they’re putting on gloves, like they’re getting ready to go to work.”

They were sure taking their sweet time, the Security Forces officer thought — the colonel’s going to have a shit fit if they don’t get their rears in gear. Sure enough, moments later the base commander called: “What are they doing, dammit? Are those planes shut down yet?”

“Negative, sir. They’re just standing there talking right now, sir,” Mallory replied. “One of them has a radio, and another one has a checklist. Maybe they’re discussing shutting down the APUs from here.”

“Well, go find out what is taking them so damned long.”

“Roger, Panther. Stand by.” He holstered his radio and started walking toward the crew chiefs. The three men and one woman crew chiefs saw him coming…and then, without a backward glance, they started walking toward their end unit hangar which served as the Air Battle Force’s headquarters. “Hey, you jerkoffs, get back here and shut those power units off, colonel’s orders.” Just as he was about to yell at them again, to his complete surprise, they started running toward the hangar! “Where the hell are you going?” he shouted. He pulled his radio out of its holster. “Panther, the crew chiefs are running away toward their headquarters building!”

“They are what?” the base commander shouted. “Arrest those sons of bitches!”

“Roger that, sir. Break. Detail One to Control, signal Alert Red, Alpha Seven ramp area, repeat, Alert Red, Alpha—” Then Mallory heard a sound, much louder than the APUs, and realized moments later what it was. His hand shaking, he raised his radio again: “Control, Detail One, be advised, the articles in the Alpha Seven hangars are starting engines, repeat, starting engines! Requesting a Code Niner-Niner alert, full response, repeat, full—”

And then he saw them, emerging from the hangar the crew chiefs had just run toward, sprinting like linebackers from hell…and he nearly fell over backward in shock, surprise, and a mad scramble to get the hell out of there. He had seen them before, of course, but usually just walking around or being folded or unfolded near a truck or helicopter — never running right at him!

“Saber Four and Five responding!” one of the Cybernetic Infantry Device manned robots said in a loud computer-synthesized voice. “Say status!” Mallory was still on his hands and knees cowering in terror as the first robot ran right up to him. Both had him surrounded within moments. They were wearing huge backpacks, with what appeared to be grenade launchers deployed over their shoulders aimed right at him. “Team leader, I say again: say status!”