and villages. We’ll need every helping hand we can find to make this work.”
“Gladly, Marshal,” Azar said.
“Thank you,
Azar walked beside Buzhazi through the airport terminal to the exit. “Very dramatic gesture you made back there, Marshal,” she said. “I never thought I’d see you kneeling before anyone, let alone
“I had to do something to outdo
“Did you mean what you said about surrendering your forces to me and swearing allegiance?” They smiled together, knowing each other’s reply. “Do you think we can pull it off, Hesarak?” she asked.
“Well, before today, I gave us no more than one chance in ten of winning,” Buzhazi said honestly. “Since then, things have improved greatly. I give us perhaps one chance in five now.”
“Really? A one hundred percent improvement so fast? We haven’t done anything yet except perhaps rearrange the deck chairs on a sinking ship! We have the same forces as before, the same resources — perhaps better organization and a little extra motivation. What else has changed other than our names, titles, and allegiances?”
They had walked outside and were escorted by guards to the nearby Iran Air hangar. After their identities were verified, Buzhazi stepped aside to let Azar pass him. “What else has changed?” he asked with a smile. “Let’s just say something from above has dropped into our laps.”
“What…?” Azar stepped into the hangar……and was immediately confronted by a ten-foot-tall humanoid robot, wearing some sort of cannon on his shoulders. The robot stepped closer to her with amazing speed and agility, examined them all for a moment, then stood at attention and shouted, “Detail, ten-
…revealing that the hangar had two sleek, jet-black, massive American bombers inside. Azar recognized them as Air Force B-1 bombers, except the cockpit windows appeared sealed closed. The hangar floor was choked with vehicles, cargo containers of every size and description, and perhaps two hundred American airmen in utility uniforms standing at attention.
“As you were,” Azar said. The Americans, men and women alike, relaxed. Many came over to the newcomers, introducing themselves with salutes and handshakes.
A few moments later, a tall man in a strange dark gray all-body suit of armor that Buzhazi recognized as the American Tin Man battle system, without his helmet, came over, stood before Qagev and Buzhazi, and saluted. “General Buzhazi?” he said via his Tin Man suit’s on-board electronic translator. “Major Wayne Macomber, U.S. Air Force, detail commander.”
Buzhazi returned his salute, then shook hands. “Thank you, Major. May I present Her Highness, Azar Assiyeh Qagev…” He paused for effect, giving her a sly wink and nod, then added, “Queen of Persia.”
Macomber’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly enough, snapped to attention again, and saluted. “Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” She extended her hand, and he shook it, his armored hand dwarfing hers. “Never met a queen before.”
“I have met a Tin Man before, and I take great pleasure and comfort knowing you’re here,” Azar said in English so perfect, so American that it surprised him. “Welcome to Persia, Major.”
“Thanks.” He turned his hand and looked down at hers. “Hypoplastic thumb. Nice job fixing it. My youngest sister has it too. Bilateral?”
“Yes, Major,” Azar replied rather awkwardly. “I’m surprised at you. Most people I greet look at my hand and then look away, pretending not to notice.”
“Ignorance, that’s all, ma’am,” Macomber said. “Good for you not hiding it. My sister doesn’t hide it either. Freaks people out but that’s her plan. She still has a wicked tennis backhand.”
“You should see me on the rifle range, Major.”
The big commando smiled and nodded, his turn to be surprised. “Looking forward to that, ma’am.”
“Me too, Major.” She looked at another commando in a Tin Man battle armor system approach. “Hello, Sergeant Major Wohl,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“Thank you, Highness,” Wohl said. “Nice to see you too.” He glanced at Buzhazi. “I hope your new title doesn’t mean bad news about your parents.”
“I hope so too, Sergeant Major,” Azar said, “but the situation has forced my elevation, and so we proceed.” Wohl nodded in approval, but still gave Buzhazi a warning glare.
The ten-foot robot came over to them. Macomber motioned to her and said, “Ma’am, I’d like to introduce you to my second-in-command, Captain Charlie Turlock, U.S. Army Reserves, piloting a Cybernetic Infantry Device manned robot battle system she helped develop. She’s on patrol now so she can’t get out to greet you properly. Captain, meet Queen Azar Qagev of Persia.”
“Nice to meet you too, Captain,” Azar said, shaking hands with the giant, amazed at her delicate touch despite the size of her mechanical hand. “My minister of war and commander of my armed forces, Marshal Hesarak Buzhazi.”
“Nice to meet you, Highness, Marshal,” Charlie said from within the CID unit. Macomber’s eyes widened at Buzhazi’s new title. “All patrols reporting secure, sir. Excuse me, but I’ll continue my assignment.” The robot saluted and hurried off.
“Incredible, absolutely incredible,” Azar remarked. “Thank you so much for the extraordinary job you did in hunting down the Pasdaran’s mobile missiles. But now I’m confused. Did Marshal Buzhazi ask you to come to Tehran?”
“We had a little…trouble, you might say, with our accommodations in Turkey,” Macomber explained. “My commanding officer Lieutenant General Patrick McLanahan got in contact with General — er, Marshal Buzhazi, and he offered to put us up until we get our situation straightened out.”
“McLanahan? The general up in the space station?”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk, shall we?” Macomber suggested. They moved through the hangar, greeting more airmen, and took a quick tour of the EB-1 Vampire bombers before entering an office just off the main hangar floor. Macomber spoke as if to thin air; a moment later, a telephone rang right beside him. He picked the receiver up and handed it to Azar. “It’s for you, Highness.”
Azar took the phone, trying to act like impromptu and mysterious phone calls for her were completely normal. “This is Queen Azar Assiyeh Qagev of Persia,” she said in English. “Who is this, please?”
“Highness, this is Lieutenant General Patrick McLanahan. How are you tonight?”
“I’m well, General,” she responded, trying to sound official and coherent even though her senses were swimming trying to keep up with the amazing otherworldly technology she was being exposed to here at breakneck speed. “We were just talking about you.”
“I was listening in — hope you don’t mind,” Patrick said. “We keep a close eye on our troops all around the world.”
“I understand,” Azar said. “I hope you are recovered from your space flight injuries. Are you in Persia?”
“No, right now I’m over southern Chile, aboard Armstrong Space Station,” Patrick said. “Highness, I was in a little bit of trouble, and I called on General Buzhazi for help. I apologize for not informing you first, but time was of the essence.”
“You and your forces are welcome forever and always in Persia, General,” Azar said. “You are a hero and champion to all free Persians, and we consider you our brother-in-arms. But perhaps you can explain what’s going on.”
“We believe Russia has moved military forces into Iran and is working with the theocratic regime to exert influence in the region.”
“Well of course they have, General,” Azar said matter-of-factly. “Don’t tell me that’s a surprise to you?” His rather embarrassed pause gave her all the answer she needed. “The Russians have pledged substantial military and economic assistance over the years to the theocratic regime in exchange for presence and to put pressure on them
