Shadow Command

uplink from the fighter. The missiles automatically deactivated their on-board radars and activated its infrared seeker, but they were too far away from the Vampire bomber to lock on using its heat-seeking sensor, and the missiles harmlessly plummeted to the Caspian Sea without acquiring a target.

But SPEAR wasn’t done. After defeating the missiles, SPEAR sent digital instructions to the MiG-29 via the fire control system to start shutting down aircraft systems controlled by computer. One by one, the navigation, engine controls, flight controls, and communications all turned themselves off.

In the blink of an eye, the pilot found himself sitting in a completely silent and dark glider, as if he were sitting on the ramp back at his home base.

To his credit, the veteran pilot didn’t panic and eject — he was not out of control, not yet, but just…well, turned off. There was only one thing to do: turn all switches off to reset the computers, then turn everything back on, and hope he could get his stricken jet running again before he crashed into the Caspian Sea. He flipped his checklist to the BEFORE POWER ON pages and started shutting every system in the plane off. His last image out his canopy was watching the big American B-1 bomber bank sharply left, as if giving the Russian a farewell wing-wag, and fly off toward the northwest, speeding quickly out of sight.

No one in the Russian air force had ever run a series of checklists faster than he. He had descended from forty-two thousand feet all the way down to four thousand feet above the Caspian Sea before he was able to get his jet shut down, turned back on, and the engines started again. Thankfully, whatever evil spirits had entered his MiG-29 were no longer present.

For a brief instant the Russian MiG pilot considered pursuing the American bomber completely radar-silent and putting a load of cannon shells into his tail — he was going to be blamed for almost crashing his plane anyway, so why not go out in a blaze of glory? — but after briefly considering it, he decided that was a foolish notion. He didn’t know what caused the mysterious shutdown — was it an American weapon of some kind, or a glitch in his own plane? Besides, the American bomber was not launching any more missiles that could be “mistaken” for an attack against him. This was not a war between the Americans and the Russians…

…although he felt it certainly could blossom into one at any moment.

* * *

“Let’s put together a debrief, then get ready to head back to HAWC, Boomer,” Patrick said after they were assured that the EB-1C Vampire bomber was safely on its way back to Batman Air Base in Turkey. His voice sounded very tired, and his facial expression appeared even more so. “Good job. The system seems to be working fine. We’ve proven we can control unmanned aircraft from Silver Tower. That should get us some sustainment funding for another year at least.”

“General, it wasn’t your fault that the damned insurgents had a bunch of kids around when the SkySTREAK attacked, or that they loaded up that Ra’ad missile with poison gas,” Hunter Noble responded, looking worriedly at Master Sergeant Lukas.

“I know, Boomer,” Patrick said, “but it still doesn’t make watching innocent men, women, and children die like that any easier.”

“Sir, we’re on station, the Vampire is loaded, the SkySTREAKs are running cool, and no doubt there are more of those Ra’ads out there with poison gas warheads,” Boomer said. “I think we should stay and—”

“I hear you, Boomer, but we’ve validated the system — that was the mission objective,” Patrick said.

“Our other objective was to try to control multiple bombers and multiple engagements,” Boomer reminded him. “We had enough trouble getting authorization and funding to fly this mission — getting approval for another mission to do what we could have done on this flight will be even more difficult.”

“I know, I know,” Patrick said wearily. “I’ll ask, Boomer, but I’m not counting on it. We’ve got to analyze the data, prepare a summary report, and brief the chief. Let’s get to it.”

“But sir—”

“Meet you back here in ten, Boomer,” Patrick said finally, detaching himself from his anchor position and floating his way toward the sleeping module.

“Looks like he took that one hard,” Seeker said after the general had left the control module. Boomer didn’t respond. “It kind of shook me up too. Is the general feeling okay?”

“He had a rough trip up here,” Boomer said. “Every push into orbit has been hard on him, but he keeps on flying up here. The last push took a lot out of him, I think. He probably shouldn’t be making these trips anymore.”

“It could be watching those people getting killed like that,” Seeker said. “I’ve seen the aftereffects of a guided missile attack plenty of times, but somehow a biochem weapon attack is…different, you know? More violent.” She looked at Boomer curiously, unable to read his rather flat expression. “Did it shake you up too, Boomer?”

“Well…” And then he shook his head and added, “No, it didn’t, Seeker. All I want to do now is hunt down more bad guys. I don’t understand why the general wanted to wrap this up so soon.”

“You heard the chief, sir,” Seeker said. “The general wanted to send the other two bombers.”

“I know, I know.” Boomer looked around the module. “The things we can do on board this station are amazing, Sergeant, really amazing — we should be allowed to do them. We need to convince the powers that be that we can turn the Air Force on its ear. We can’t do that if we pull our planes out when a little kid ten thousand miles away gets caught in the crossfire. Can’t believe the general got all misty-eyed like that.”

Master Sergeant Lukas looked at Boomer sternly. “Do you mind if I say something, sir?” she finally asked.

“Go right ahead, Seeker…or is it ‘Master Sergeant’ now?”

“I haven’t been working at HAWC that long — not as long as you,” Lukas said, ignoring the sarcastic remark, “and I don’t know General McLanahan that well, but the guy is a friggin’ hero in my book. He’s spent almost twenty years laying his ass on the line fighting battles all over the world. He’s been kicked out of the Air Force twice, but he came back because he’s dedicated to his country and the service.”

“Hey, I’m not bad-mouthing the guy—”

“The ‘guy’ you’re referring to, sir, is a three-star general in the U.S. Air Force and commands the largest and most highly classified aerospace research facility in the U.S. armed forces,” Lukas interrupted hotly. “General McLanahan is nothing short of a legend. He’s been shot up, shot down, blown up, beat up, ridiculed, busted, demoted, and called every name in the book. He’s lost his wife, a close friend, and dozens of crewmembers under his command. You, sir, on the other hand, have been in the force now…seven years? Eight? You’re a talented engineer and a skillful pilot and astronaut—”

“But?”

“—but you’re not in the general’s league, sir — far, far from it,” Lukas went on. “You don’t have the experience and haven’t shown the same level of commitment and dedication as the general. You’re not qualified to pass judgment on the general — in fact, in my opinion, sir, you haven’t earned the right to be talking about him the way you are.”

“Like you’re talking to me now?”

“Write me up if you want, sir, but I don’t appreciate you second-guessing the general like that,” Lukas said flatly. She logged herself off from her console and detached herself from the bulkhead with a perturbed jerk and a loud riip! of Velcro. “I’ll help you download the sensor data and prepare your debrief for the general, and then I’ll be happy to help you prepare the Black Stallion for undocking…so you can go home as soon as possible, sir.” She said the word “sir” more like the word “cur,” and that jab wasn’t lost on Boomer.

With Seeker’s exasperated and irate help — not to mention they didn’t do very much chatting as they worked — Boomer was indeed done quickly. He uploaded his data and findings to the general. “Thanks, Boomer,” McLanahan radioed back. “We’re scheduled to do the videoconference in about ninety minutes. I found out the Joint Chiefs chairman and National Security Adviser are going to sit in. Kick back for a while and get some rest.”

“I’m fine, sir,” Boomer responded. “I’ll go hide out in Skybolt, get my e-mail, and check in on my girlfriends.”

“‘Girlfriends’…plural?”

“I don’t know — we’ll see what the e-mails say,” Boomer said. “None of them like me disappearing for days and weeks, and I certainly can’t tell them I’ve been blasting terrorists to hell from space.”