Battle Born (59 page)

“Kavaznya—that was that antisatellite laser site in Siberia, wasn’t it?” Rebecca asked. “The one that had the accident? I remember the Russians claimed we bombed it, but everyone said its reactor had a meltdown.” She looked at Luger in complete surprise. “You . . .
you bombed it
?”

“With a damned B-52,” Rinc said breathlessly. “Here’s a picture of it . . . I
think
it’s a B-52, with the long pointed nose and the stealth fighter tail. This is the control wheel off it. You flew a B-52 bomber all the way inside the Soviet Union at the height of the Cold War and bombed its most important secret military site?”

“I see you’ve noticed our little display,” Patrick said. “Be careful what you ask me, you two—you may find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the mysteries of Dreamland, and once you’re in, you can
never
return.

“We can end the tour right here. Colonel Luger
won’t show you what’s inside. You’ve seen more than anyone else not part of the program has ever seen before, and you are the first nonactive-duty military types to ever set foot in here. But once you step inside, I can’t take you out again. The bracelet stays on forever. You may get your life in the Air Guard back again, but you will always be tied into the high-level security and scrutiny of this place. From the moment you step through that door, somebody will
always
be listening.”

“I . . . I’m not sure if I want to do it,” Annie Dewey said, twisting the vinyl-covered bracelet absently, then rubbing the spot where the microchip was injected. “I don’t know if I want to be part of all this intrusion into my life.”

“She’s being honest with herself and with me,” Patrick said. “All of you better do the same. Like General Samson said, the life you’ll live sucks. You may get to return to Reno and fly for the Nevada Guard, but Big Brother will still be watching. You’ll always be under scrutiny, you’ll always be watched. Not only you but your families, your friends, your coworkers—anyone who comes in contact with you.

“But you’ll be a part of something extraordinary, exciting, almost mystical. We get to fly the hottest jets, test the hottest weapons. We’re not on the cutting edge here—we’re a generation or two
beyond
it already.”

Patrick meant to say it with great excitement, as he did to so many other newcomers to the base. But he knew what it was like in that corridor back in Dreamland, with the faces and memories of old friends staring back at him from many years and many adventures—and he couldn’t do it. Working here, living here, making the commitment to be part of this place, it wasn’t at all about excitement. It was about doing a terrible job against even more terrible odds—and winning with the fewest number of losses.

Patrick, sitting alone back in the conference room at Adak Naval Air Station, thought about the stuff back on the wall at Dreamland with his somber “thousand-yard stare,” as if his friends and partners, both living and dead, were waving to him from somewhere on the horizon—which they were. They were telling Patrick to let go of his feelings, share his fears with these people. The shadows of the dead had accepted these strangers—now Patrick had to do the same.

He paused, mentally touched the photograph of Brad Elliott, and said in a quiet voice, “Maybe you’ll save some lives; maybe you’ll get to see your friends die horrible, slow, agonizing deaths. Maybe you’ll save the world from going up in flames; maybe you’ll be forced to do some illegal or immoral things, because the consequences of failure are too grave, and you’ll hate the world you live in because you’ve ruined it. Maybe you’ll make a little history; maybe you’ll die alone, fighting a battle your country will deny ever happened. If you’re lucky and your remains are recovered, you’ll be buried in a desert cemetery that no one will ever visit, because officially it doesn’t exist. Most times,
you
will just cease to exist.”

As they listened to the disembodied voice in their heads, Furness, Seaver, and Dewey looked at each other with a mixture of surprise and sadness. It was like staring into a dark cave and deciding whether or not to go inside. That simple door at the other end of the corridor seemed like the portal to another world. The three guardsmen looked at each other, silently querying themselves and each other. This time Rebecca was not going to make the decision for them.

Finally, Rinc Seaver shrugged. “Well, jeez, General,” he said, “when you put it that way, how can we refuse? I’m in.”

“Oh, hell—I’m in,” Rebecca said. It made her feel
good that Rinc Seaver committed first—she was afraid that revealing his weakness to her might have dulled his fighting edge. It was good to see him want to get back into action once again.

“I’m in too,” John Long said. He had quietly entered the Corridor, escorted by Hal Briggs, as they stood and thought about their futures. He glared at Seaver. “As long as I don’t have to fly with that piece of shit.”

“Fine by me,” Rinc shot back.

“Don’t argue in this place
!” Patrick snapped, jumping to his feet in the conference room nearly three thousand miles away, eyes blazing and neck muscles taut. “Don’t you dare even raise your fucking
voices
in that hallway, or I will come back and kick both your asses out into the desert
myself
! That place is as sacred as a church. The floor you stand on is hallowed ground. You will goddamn learn to respect that! Do you understand?
Do you understand?
”

“Yes, sir,” Long mumbled.

“Yes, sir,” Rinc said. “Sorry, sir.”

“You fly with whoever we
tell
you to fly with, both of you,” Patrick said. “I think it’s time you got your heads screwed on straight, both of you. Colonel Long, Seaver didn’t cause the accident. He saved himself. He’s a good stick. Let him do his job.

“Seaver, you’re busy chasing ghosts that don’t deserve chasing. You’ve got to get your mind properly focused on your crew and your mission before we go flying. You think you have something to prove. You don’t. You just need to do your job and back up your teammates. That’s what’s important. Stop worrying about what others think or feel. Your life will be miserable if you don’t—and it won’t just be because of us here at Dreamland. You copy me?”

“Yes, sir,” Long and Seaver replied quietly.

“Captain Dewey? Are you in? You can go outside
and think about it, give Tom or your folks a call if you’d like.”

“You know about Tom, do you, sir?” Annie asked the thin air, as if talking to an invisible friend.

“Hey, he’s a nice dude—for an urban cowboy wannabe,” Hal Briggs chimed in.

“Hell, Heels, we knew about him too—and we didn’t need any spies or listening devices to find out,” Rebecca said with a smile. “He looks real fine, but he doesn’t have a brain cell in his poor peanut head. Stay with us. We’ll have a good time as long as we stick together.”

“Then I’m in,” Annie said.

“Good,” Patrick said. “Colonel Luger, escort the new Megafortress crews into hangar one, please.” He visualized the photos, charts, and other memorabilia on the wall, gave the photo of Brad Elliott a light, warm touch with his fingertips, then gave his new air combat team a thumbs-up from three thousand miles away. “Go look at your new ride, Aces.”

MINISTRY OF DEFENSE HEADQUARTERS,
SEOUL, UNITED REPUBLIC OF KOREA
DAYS LATER

R
eports coming in from Chagang Do province, sir,” General An Ki-sok, chief of staff of the United Republic of Korea armed forces, reported as he hung up the telephone. He was in the office of the minister of defense, retired general Kim Kun-mo. “Our infantry and artillery battalion at Pyorbai is under attack. At least two, possibly three battalions of light infantry and armor coming across the border. Kanggye is already surrounded and Chinese troops are in the city. We lost contact fifteen minutes ago—the Pyorbai barracks could already be overrun.”

“A Chinese invasion?” General Kim exclaimed. “So
fast?
”

“Yes, sir,” General An said. “Here is an update from reconnaissance planes, sir: at least two armored battalions and one infantry battalion against Kanggye itself; three, perhaps four more armored battalions and two infantry battalions moving south from J’an and Waichagoumen. Mostly light armor and infantry, moving very quickly, but they have substantial air defense, attack helicopters, and heavy armor backing them up.”

“Do you suppose the Chinese are assisting rebel Communists inside Korea?” Kim asked. “Perhaps this
attack was timed to correspond with those two rebel missile launches that aborted themselves over Hwanghae province last night.”

“Very possible, sir,” An replied. “Kim Jong-il’s rhetoric coming from Beijing is more bombastic than ever. He congratulates whoever launched those missiles, and he has promised help from the Chinese to anyone who takes up arms against us. If he was going to mount a counteroffensive with China’s help, Chagang Do province would be the best place to start.”

“They’re going after the weapons labs,” Kim said as he picked up the telephone that connected directly with the Blue House, the presidential palace in Seoul. “If they capture the facilities intact, they’ll capture a large number of special weapons warheads and prevent us from developing any more of our own.”

“We cannot let that happen, sir!” An retorted. “We fought too hard to lose it so quickly and so suddenly like this! We must act!”

“President Kwon here,” the president of United Korea answered a few moments later.

Kim raised a hand to silence his chief of staff. “Mr. President, General Kim here. I’m at the Ministry of Defense. Chinese troops were reported invading Chagang Do province. It appears they’ve taken Kanggye.”

“What? Chinese troops? How many? Where?”

“Apparently, two brigades entered Kanggye and took over the Army barracks at Pyorbai,” Kim replied. “We’ve had no contact from the province within the last half hour.” Kim read a report handed to him, swallowed hard, then said into the telephone, “Sir, photo and electronic reconnaissance planes report massive Chinese ground movement across the border. In addition to the estimated two brigades that took Kanggye, there are reports of two more full brigades crossing the frontier at Linjiang and Dandong, including aviation
units. No reports from Seventh Battalion stationed at Pyorbai—obviously our units were overwhelmed by Chinese forces.” The Seventh was called a battalion, but in fact it was a hodgepodge of several partial infantry and light-armored North Korean companies, augmented with former South Korean men and equipment. Up until very recently, the men in this unit were mostly concerned with foraging for food—they were no match for any regular combat force even half their size, let alone two battalions of seasoned Chinese border troops.

“Where are they concentrated?” President Kwon asked. “What could their objective be?” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “The nuclear research facilities? The weapons laboratories?”

“That would be my guess, sir,” Kim responded. “Sir, we need a way to stop those troops from taking Kanggye and the weapons labs. If Korean Communist rebels seize any special weapons and are able to use them against us, the loss of life could be staggering. But we cannot sacrifice those weapons labs. If we try an aerial or artillery bombardment, we could damage or destroy them—or the Chinese will do it for us.” There was silence on the line for several long moments; then in a low, stern voice Kim said, “This is the time that we must use a weapon that can kill the enemy but not harm the buildings or equipment.”

“What are you talking about, Kim?”

“A subatomic or chemical weapons attack against Chinese troops, sir,” he said ominously. “Precisely what these weapons were designed for, exactly why North Korea had them in their inventory—to wipe us out without destroying our cities, our factories, our military or civil infrastructure. We have no choice, sir. If we lose Chagang Do province and all of its military
facilities to the Chinese and to the Communist rebels, we will eventually lose our cities to attack.”

“I am not convinced an attack like this is necessary, General.”

“I believe it is necessary now more than ever, sir,” Kim said emphatically. “We were not sure if the Chinese had launched an attack against Seoul and Pusan—this time we’re sure the Chinese have invaded. They’ve attacked our aircraft and overrun our army outposts, and they are apparently trying to capture our weapons research facilities. We cannot allow that! We need to keep those facilities intact. The only way to do it is to use special weapons.

“The effects of both a chemical weapons and a neutron weapons attack will be confined to a very small area,” Kim went on. “Vx nerve gas is potent but nonpersistent, meaning our forces can safely move in within days of the attack; the chemical disperses when exposed to wind or moisture, so danger to surrounding areas is minimal. The subatomic weapons create great destruction within a few hundred meters of ground zero, but virtually no destruction outside that radius. They kill within two miles of the blast and injure within four miles, while leaving our facilities intact. We can—”

“I do not believe we are even discussing this
!” President Kwon shouted. “This is insanity! This is foolishness!”

“Sir, the Chinese knew the risks when they staged this invasion,” Kim said. “If we do not respond immediately with overwhelming force, we stand the risk of losing our weapons facilities, Chagang Do province entirely, and perhaps our entire nation to the Chinese. What will you do, sir?”

President Kim hesitated. “Is there any word from our forces in Kanggye?” he asked. “Have they been captured?
Killed? What is the extent of the Chinese incursion?”

“There is still no word from Kanggye, sir,” Kim said, “only reports of massive numbers of Chinese armored forces heading south from all across the frontier. The longer we wait, sir, the harder it will be to uproot those troops.”

Kim heard Kwon loudly swear to himself and pound on his desk as he tried to sort out the jumble of fears and emotions swirling inside. The attack on Pusan had forced him to agree to a massive bombardment of Chinese forces near Changbai—but this was different, completely different.