Shadow Command

with maintenance, crew support, and security vehicles. One such battery was set up at the airport, with another northwest and a third positioned west of the city. The S-300 missile was effective against targets flying as low as thirty feet aboveground, as high as one hundred thousand feet, as fast as Mach 3, as far out as one hundred and twenty miles, and deadly against even low-flying cruise missiles and theater ballistic missiles.

The S-300s were augmented by the Tor-M1 air defense system, which were tracked armored vehicles that fired eight high-speed, short-range radar-guided anti-aircraft missiles from vertical launch tubes. The Tor-M1 was designed to protect mobile headquarters vehicles, vehicle marshaling areas, refueling areas, and ammunition dumps from attack helicopters, unmanned aerial vehicles, and low-flying subsonic tactical bombers. Although the Tor-M1 had a crew of three, it was designed to be a “set and forget” system, allowing for fully autonomous engagements, or it could be tied into the S-300’s fire control system to form an integrated air defense system. Together they formed an almost impenetrable shield around Mashhad.

That day, Mashhad was one of the most heavily defended cities on planet Earth…and it was about to be put to the test.

About two hours before dawn, the first alert was issued from the long-range air defense radar at S-300 battery number two, located thirty miles northwest of Mashhad: “Alarm, alarm, alarm, this is Syeveer battery, high-speed low-altitude target inbound, bearing two-eight-zero, range one-fifty, velocity nine-six-five, altitude nine-zero.”

“Syeveer, this is Tsentr, acknowledged,” the tactical action officer, Captain Sokolov, responded. His tactical display showed three high-speed, low-altitude targets heading toward Mashhad. “Contact, sir,” he reported to the regimental commander. “Looks like a terrain-following bomb run, right where you thought they’d be.”

“Completely predictable,” Colonel Kundrin, the air defense regimental commander, said confidently. As if sensing that something might happen that morning, he had been dressed and at his post in the regimental air defense command center on the top floor of the administration building at Reza International hours earlier. “The planes may change over the years, but the tactics remain the same. We placed that battery in perfect position — the bomber is trying to terrain-mask down the valley, but the mountains funnel right down to where we placed that battery. A fatal flaw in their mission planning. He can’t continue straight ahead, and if he pops up over the ridges he’ll be exposing himself even more.”

“Too fast and too low for a B-2 stealth bomber — this must be a B-1 bomber,” Sokolov surmised. “And they haven’t launched their hypersonic cruise missiles either.”

“I don’t think they have any stealth bombers left after President Gryzlov and General Darzov expertly pounded their bases and caught the fools flat-footed on the ground,” Kundrin said. “Besides, this is not the American air force we’re up against — it’s just McLanahan, the general that went crazy up in space. He’s probably fired all his missiles already. Tell Syeveer to engage at optimal range, and be sure to watch for a trailing aircraft. If he’s got more than one bomber, he’ll either be in close trail or attacking from a different axis. I don’t want anyone to slip inside.”

Sokolov relayed the order. “Order to engage confirmed, sir, fifteen seconds to go…wait one! Sir, Zapat battery reports new hostile target inbound, bearing two-five-zero, range one hundred, altitude one hundred, speed eight-seventy and increasing!” Zapat was the westernmost battery, situated fifty miles west of Mashhad.

“I knew it! Predictable, all too predictable,” Kundrin said happily. “Looks like we placed that number three battery in a perfect place too — covering the Binalud ridgeline west of the city. If I were to plan an attack on the airport, I’d hug the ground along the ridge, then pop around the end of the ridge and launch missiles right at rollout. That’s exactly what McLanahan did — and we were in exactly the right spot to nail him! He’ll have his bomb doors open and his radar signature will be massive! Tell Zapat to engage when ready!”

Each battery had three missile trailers, separated by several miles but linked to each other via microwave datalink, each carrying four 48N6 vertical-launch interceptor missiles which were already raised to launch position. Once the order to attack was given and the proper attack mode set — launch at optimal range — the engagement was virtually automatic. As soon as the target came within range, a nitrogen gas catapult pushed the missile out of the launch tube to a height of about thirty feet and the rocket motor ignited, accelerating the missile to greater- than-a-mile-per-second velocity in less than twelve seconds. Three seconds later, a second missile automatically fired to assure a kill. The S-300’s missiles climbed to an altitude of only twenty thousand feet, guided to a predicted intercept point.

“Status?” the regimental commander asked.

“Batteries engaging targets, four missiles in the air,” Sokolov reported. “Targets making only minimal evasive maneuvers and little jamming. Solid lock-on.”

“The last act of overconfidence,” Kundrin said. “They have no room to maneuver in any case. Too bad they’re unmanned aircraft, eh, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. I’m concerned about those T-waves, or whatever they hit our fighter with.”

“We’ll see in a moment, won’t we?”

“Missiles tracking perfectly…targets making slightly more aggressive maneuvers…channel-hop away from jamming, still locked on…three…two…one…now.”

There were no other reports from the tactical action officer, which confused the regimental commander. “TAO, report!”

“Sir…sir, both missiles reporting ground contact!” Sokolov said in a low, confused voice. “Negative warhead detonation. Complete miss!”

“Release batteries and launch again!” Kundrin shouted. “Target range and bearing?”

“Second volley processing…missile three launched…missile four launched,” Sokolov said. “Target range nine- zero, bearing steady at two-eight-zero.”

“What of battery three? Status?”

“Battery three engagement…” And then his voice cut off with a sharp intake of breath.

Kundrin flew out of his seat and stared at the display. It was unbelievable…“They missed?” he exclaimed. “Another ground impact?”

“Battery three re-engaging…missile three launch…missile four…”

“Say range and bearing on battery three’s target?”

“Range eight-zero, bearing steady at two-five-zero.”

“That…that doesn’t make sense,” Kundrin said. “Both target bearings did not change even though they fell under attack? Something’s not—”

“Sir, batteries two and three second-engagement missiles show ground impact as well!” Sokolov said. “All engagements missed! Battery two re-engaging. Battery three—”

“Negative! All batteries tight!” Kundrin shouted. “Inhibit auto engage!”

“Repeat that last, sir?”

“I said, all batteries tight, inhibit auto engagement!” Kundrin shouted. “We’re being meaconed!”

“Meaconed? You mean, jammed, sir?”

“They’re broadcasting false targets on our displays and making us fire at ghosts,” Kundrin said.

“But we have full countermeasures and anti-jam algorithms in place, sir,” Sokolov said. “Our systems are in perfect working order.”

“We’re not being jammed, dammit,” Kundrin said. “Something’s inside our system. Our computers believe they are processing actual targets.”

The command network phone rang; only the regimental commander could answer it. “Tsentr.”

“This is Rayetka.” It was General Andrei Darzov himself, calling from Moscow. “We copied your notification of an attack response, but now we see you have canceled all engagements. Why?”

“Sir, I think we’re being meaconed — we’re reacting to false targets generated by our own sensors,” Kundrin said. “I’ve inhibited automatic responses until…”

“Sir, battery two S-300 and Tor units receiving automatic engagement commands and are preparing to launch!” Sokolov shouted.

“I gave no such orders!” Kundrin shouted. “Countermand those orders! All