Air Battle Force (59 page)

“The situation is this: Your president, Kurban Gurizev, has been brutally assassinated by Colonel General Boris Kasimov, the Russian liaison to the Turkmen government. Many Russian army regiments have already entered the capital. Yet the Russians do not as yet control Turkmenistan. The reason: The United States of America has intervened in this conflict and has sent air and ground forces to face the Russians.

“My brothers, I know you have no cause to love the Americans, just as you may not love the Russians. Both nations have sought to take your substantial mineral wealth at far less than market price and at the same time conspire with unscrupulous bureaucrats in your government for payoffs in exchange for lucrative development contracts. But the Americans rescued me from certain death by the Russians and by Aman Orazov, and they are here, standing by and awaiting your word. Before he died, President Gurizev authorized their presence in Turkmenistan, although the Russian army is in charge, under the pretext of abiding by a mutual-defense treaty between Turkmenistan and the Russian Federation.

“You may choose not to believe my words, but I tell you, it is the truth: The Russians want nothing more than to crush the Taliban and deter any other Muslim groups from gaining a foothold in Turkmenistan. They mean to crush all Muslim participation in government and stamp out any thought or attempt at equity for the Muslim majority, as they do in Chechnya and other republics and provinces.

“I know you have no reason to believe me. I am an outsider. I attacked your towns and cities, fought your soldiers, and took your property. I also know that for many decades the Russians have protected Turkmenistan—first as conquerors and dictators in their empire, but later as neighbors and partners, although for mostly self-serving reasons. You may consider them your friends and defenders and consider me your enemy.

“But I will say this, and then leave you to consider my words. Wakil Zarazi entered your country several weeks ago with a band of exactly two hundred and seventy-one men in a caravan of battered old pickup trucks. Today Zarazi's army numbers over twenty-seven thousand. Zarazi's army may have begun with a handful of Taliban desert raiders from Afghanistan fleeing from a Western assault, but we have transformed into a fighting force composed of soldiers from all over Central Asia—but mostly men from Turkmenistan. I never realized it until now, but the army once led by Wakil Zarazi, the army I command today, is in reality a Turkmen army, not a Taliban or Afghan army—the first Turkmen army since Alexander the Second of imperial Russia not to be commanded by a Russian.

“So the choice is yours, my brothers and sisters of Turkmenistan and all of Central Asia. If you reject me, I will take what remains of my army and go home. If there is another among you who wishes to lead this army, have him step forward and present himself to me and the troops. But if you wish it, I will continue to battle for independence from Russia. You will know where to find me—as will the Russians.

“This battle will be one of two kinds: a battle for survival for myself and my men or a fight for freedom and independence against General Gryzlov and the Russian army. Make your wishes known to me—I will be listening. Thank you, and may God bless you and your families, and grant you peace.”

That same time

The broadcast, played live on world news channels, ended, and the military and political analysts began discussing the speech.

“He did a good job,” Rebecca Furness said. “But he's a fucking Taliban. They won't have him lead their troops. He'll be lucky to get out of the country alive.”

She and Daren Mace had been listening to Turabi's speech via satellite on Diego Garcia. They had already finished their first patrol period after arriving in-theater, a total of eighteen hours and three aerial refuelings—which did not include the sixteen hours and three aerial refuelings it had taken for the first flight of EB-1 bombers to fly from Battle Mountain to Turkmenistan.

After refueling over the Arabian Sea just south of Pakistan, Rebecca Furness and her First Air Battle Force team flew at very high altitude over Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Turkmenistan, evading their surveillance and air-defense radars. They were able to stay on patrol over their assigned area in Turkmenistan for about three hours before having to depart and go back to the refueling track. Each crew flew three such patrols, a total of eighteen hours, before landing at Diego Garcia.

They had been on patrol all over the countryside, responding to surveillance and attack requests, but had not fired any weapons. The AL-52 Dragon airborne-laser aircraft were the primary air-defense aircraft, with the manned Vampires flying as backups. The manned Vampire bombers carrying three rotary launchers: the forward launcher carried sixteen AIM-120 Scorpion medium-range air-to-air radar-guided missiles, the middle launcher carrying ten AIM-154 Anaconda long-range hypersonic air-to-air missiles, and the aft launcher carrying eight AGM-165 Longhorn ground-attack missiles.

Each Air Battle team had two unmanned aircraft in its formation, each of which carried four StealthHawk unmanned combat air vehicles on a rotary launcher in the middle bomb bay. The forward bomb bay contained extra weapon clips for the StealthHawks, and the aft bomb bay carried a spare fuel tank that could be both used to refuel the UCAVs or used by the bomber itself in an emergency. Each UCAV carried six AGM-211 mini-Maverick missiles with thermium-nitrate warheads.

Rearming and refueling the StealthHawks proved to be a simple engineering feat, accomplished with technology and equipment they already had at Battle Mountain. After retrieval each StealthHawk was locked on to the rotary launcher and rotated to the top of the Vampire's middle bomb bay, with the UCAV's own bomb bays open and facing upward. Six-round clips of mini-Mavericks were slid over from the forward bomb bay, lowered into the StealthHawk's upturned weapons bay, and locked into place; at the same time a refueling line filled the UCAV's fuel tanks. The forward bomb bay held twenty-four weapon clips. If necessary a StealthHawk could be rearmed and relaunched less than five minutes after retrieval.

Typically the unmanned Vampire bombers would arrive over their patrol area, release their StealthHawks, return to the air-refueling track to refuel, return to the patrol area, retrieve the StealthHawks, refuel and rearm them if necessary, then repeat the process. As long as they had fuel and weapons, the process could be repeated indefinitely.

Now Rebecca and Daren were in their detachment headquarters on Diego Garcia on “crew rest”—which meant supervising their team's refueling and reloading, reviewing intelligence data, and planning their next patrol. They took catnaps when able, alternating attendance in meetings and inspections, then filling the other in as they went off in search of a quiet closet to take a nap. They still had six hours in which they hoped to be able to get some real rest, but that was probably going to be impossible.

“All Air Battle Force participants, this is Bravo. Stand by for an intelligence update,” Brigadier General David Luger announced via the secure satellite datalink. “As of the top of the hour, satellite-reconnaissance and intelligence data indicates that the Russian air force is mobilizing an additional three bomber and fighter regiments. Along with the fighters at Saratov and the bombers at Engels, we're now seeing activity at Astrakhan and Volgograd. This makes a total of six bomber and five fighter regiments mobilized in the past six hours. All of these regiments are within normal unrefueled combat radius of the various aircraft involved. In other words, we believe with high probability that all of these regiments are being mobilized for action over Turkmenistan.”

“That's not good news,” Daren said. “Wonder what the boss is going to do?”

Rebecca looked over at Daren and smiled. “Well, I just want you to know, Daren, that the work you've done since you arrived here has been nothing short of amazing,” she said. “I never thought we'd have this capability—that we'd be flying around up here while a couple B-1 bombers are cruising nearby with us
with no one on board.
It's a freakin' miracle.”

“Thanks, Rebecca,” Daren said. He reached over, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. He then realized what he'd done and was expecting a rebuff, but he didn't get one. “It's been great working with you again—although this cockpit is sure as hell different from the last one we went to war in.” He paused, looking at the satellite imagery and analysis data being presented on the supercockpit display in front of him. “Wonder what the general is going to do?”

“I don't see he has much choice. He's got to withdraw,” Rebecca said. “Nine regiments—that's as many as a hundred and twenty aircraft, if the regiments are fully staffed. We're outnumbered twenty to one, and I don't think even the airborne laser or what few weapons we have in place can make up for that.” She looked at Daren. “What do you think?”

“I think you're right,” Daren said after a long pause. “It would be better if we had some help—a couple B-2 stealth-bomber squadrons and a few fighter wings for starters. Otherwise, we can hold out just long enough to get our guys out—if that long. The Russians have too many planes too close to Turkmenistan. It's too easy for them to surge numerically superior forces.”

“So McLanahan has to pull back.” She gave Daren a wry smile and added, “That'll be a first. I don't even think he knows how.”

That same time

“I'm sorry things have escalated to this point, Mr. President,” Thomas Thorn said. He was seated in the Oval Office with Vice President Lester Busick, Secretary of Defense Robert Goff, and Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman General Richard Venti. “The United States does not want a war with Russia or anyone else.”

“Your military forces have destroyed dozens of aircraft, heavily damaged a communications vessel on the high seas, and killed seventeen men and women, sir, all in one night,” Russian president Valentin Sen'kov said. “If you don't want war, President Thorn, you have a strange way of showing it.”

“I take it by your words, Mr. President, that you did not actually declare war on the United States of America?”

“That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard, President Thorn,” Sen'kov said. “No one in my government has declared war, and certainly not with the United States. Yes, I consider the Taliban a threat to peace in Turkmenistan, but I have not declared war on them or anyone else!”

“Then Colonel General Kasimov's declarations and warnings were not authorized or sanctioned by the Russian government?”

“I don't even
know
a Colonel General Kasimov!” Sen'kov retorted. “Is this some kind of game, Mr. President?”

“We have e-mailed the Russian embassy in Washington with a digital recording and transcript of a conversation I had with Colonel General Kasimov, who said he was the Russian liaison to the Turkmen military general staff. He announced the imposition of martial law in Turkmenistan and said that, because of U.S. actions in Turkmenistan and by authority of treaties between Russia and Turkmenistan, a state of war existed between our countries.”

“I . . . this is outrageous! This is nonsense!” Sen'kov exploded. “I authorized nothing of the kind! It must have been approved by General Gryzlov, my chief of the general staff.”

“We are also monitoring a very large-scale buildup of tactical and strategic forces in Russia,” Thorn went on, “that all appear to be getting ready for air assaults in Turkmenistan.”

“I know that General Gryzlov issued a warning order directing mobilization and preparedness,” Sen'kov admitted. “He has that authority. He was very concerned about the shoot-down of the MiG-29 over Turkmenistan—fearing it might have been from a secret attack by the Taliban—and these recent attacks in the Caspian Sea and Krasnovodsk only reinforced his fears. However, I have not authorized any attacks against any forces anywhere.”

“So you issued no execution order for any attacks in Turkmenistan?”

“No, I did not,” Sen'kov said. “I understand that General Gryzlov delivered a draft execution order to my office. It is sitting here right in front of me on my desk, still unsigned.”

“So what does this mean?” Thorn asked. “Is General Gryzlov acting on your orders, or is he provoking a war on his own?”

“I don't know if he has access to information I do not, or if he has misinterpreted a directive from my office,” Sen'kov said. “In any case we will investigate immediately. But I assure you most emphatically, Mr. President: Russia is
not
at war with the United States.”

“I believe you, Mr. President,” Thorn replied. “But the world will soon see what we see: Russia getting ready to attack someone. We must have some kind of assurance that war is not imminent. The American Congress will certainly want a full explanation, and our military forces will press to go to a heightened state of alert. If that happens, we may not be able to control the escalation.”

“Then I suggest a meeting, Mr. Thorn,” Sen'kov said. “An emergency summit, in Reykjavik, Iceland, tomorrow morning. We shall issue a joint statement telling the world we are not at war; we shall both pledge to restore peace and democracy to Turkmenistan and work together to solve racial, cultural, religious, and ethnic conflicts all over the world.”

“Agreed. I'll be there,” Thorn replied.

“Very good, Mr. President. I look forward to seeing you in Iceland.”

Thorn set the phone down and turned to Vice President Lester Busick. “Summit meeting between Sen'kov and me, tomorrow morning, in Reykjavik.”

“Well, at least the bastard chose someplace more or less in between our two capitals,” Busick said as he picked up his phone to start making arrangements. “The asshole probably denies the whole thing.”