by Dale Brown
“I’ll get the ball rolling, Patrick,” Griffin said. “What’s your guess?”
“My guess is that this attack on Bukhara was an operational test mission,” Patrick said. “I’ve flown many of them myself with planes from Dreamland and from Battle Mountain. I think the Russians are getting ready to roll out a whole new attack system, based on long-range bombers. The addition of the Koala missile is the scariest part — with it they can hold thousands of targets in North America at risk.”
Battle Mountain Air Reserve Base, Nevada
Later that morning
David Luger snatched up the secure telephone receiver as soon as he was told who was on the line. “Muck!” he exclaimed after logging in secure. “How are you, sir?”
“I’m fine, and I’m not ‘sir’ to you anymore,” Patrick responded.
“You’ll always be ‘sir’ to me, Muck,” Dave said. “How’s the Nine-sixty-sixth treating you?”
“Just fine,” Patrick responded. “Good bunch of guys. Some of the civilian contractors need a bath and a haircut, though.”
“Sounds like our kind of guys. And what’s it like to be hobnobbing with the numbered air force brass?”
“Remember the old saying about not wanting to watch how sausage is made?”
“Got it.”
“How are things out there?”
“Quiet and busy at the same time,” Dave replied. “Our tanker guys are getting plenty of work, but the bomber guys and UCAV operators are going stir-crazy. We had to fly the AL-52s back to the lake.” Even on a secure line, both parties hesitated to mention Dreamland or HAWC.
“I expected that to happen,” Patrick said. “We were spending their money but not keeping up with the test schedule.” The AL-52 Dragon airborne-laser anti-ballistic-missile aircraft was a test program initially begun at the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, or HAWC, the supersecret flight-test facility in south-central Nevada known as Dreamland. Patrick McLanahan brought the Dragons, the first operational aircraft to use a laser as their primary attack weapon, to Battle Mountain and created a combat unit based around these amazing planes. They were used over both Libya and Turkmenistan with outstanding results, against both air and ground targets and on targets as small as a heat-seeking missile and as large as a Russian MiG-29 supersonic fighter. But technically the planes still belonged to Dreamland, because Patrick didn’t have an official budget. “Too bad. Are they going to continue the program?”
“Hard to tell. The Cobra program is doing well — they should deploy their first operational aircraft ahead of schedule.” The YAL-1A Cobra was an airborne chemical-oxygen-iodine laser set in a Boeing 747 airframe. While the AL-52 Dragon airborne laser had actually been used in combat, the technology used in the YAL-1A was less expensive and far less risky, and so it had much more political and military support than HAWC’s version.
“Who’s the project officer assigned to the AL-52?”
“There wasn’t one when we brought the planes in,” David said. “The director of flight ops signed for the birds himself.”
“That’s not good.” If there was no project officer assigned to the flight-test program, there was a very good chance the AL-52 Dragon airborne-laser program would languish — or, more likely, be canceled. “I’ll see what I can do from here.”
“Good. Hey, we got the word that the Seventh Bomb Wing is down for their ORI. We put in a request to cover their sorties. Any word on that?”
“It was discussed. They’re going to gin up some fly-stores instead.”
“That doesn’t make sense. We’re ready to go now. We can do everything the Seventh can do, plus the SEAD stuff.”
“I know. General Hollister stood up for us, but Zoltrane and Samson wanted fly-stores.”
“Hmph. Well, it’s kind of a moot point anyway — we still need to be certified by Eighth Air Force before we cover sorties. Any word on when we’re going to recert?”
“After this Russia thing cools down, I’m sure they’ll be out there to get you recertified.”
“I hope so — we’re definitely ready. The sooner, the better. So what’s up, Muck?”
“Dave, I’ve got a request for you,” Patrick said. “Do you have any NIRTSats handy?”
“Sure,” Luger replied. NIRTSat stood for “Need It Right This Second” satellite. Up to four of the different types of the small oven-size NIRTSats — reconnaissance, communications, or weapon targeting — were loaded aboard a winged rocket-powered booster, taken up to thirty or forty thousand feet, then dropped from a launch aircraft such as Battle Mountain’s EB-52s or EB-1C bombers or from other carrier aircraft, such as Sky Masters Inc.’s DC-10 launch/tanker aircraft. After launch, the booster’s first-stage solid rocket motor shot the aircraft to the top of the stratosphere, where the second-and third-stage motors would kick in and propel the booster into low Earth orbit, anywhere from fifty to three hundred miles’ altitude. After ejecting its satellites in the proper sequence and spacing, the booster would then fly itself back to Earth for reuse.
Although the NIRTSats carried very little fuel and therefore could not be easily repositioned and could stay in orbit only a short time, they gave a wide range of users — field commanders, aircrews, even small-unit commando forces — their own specialized satellite constellation. But the cost per pound was high; and although Dreamland and the 111th Bomb Wing had launched many NIRTSats over the years, it was still considered an experimental system. “Who’s the customer?” Dave asked.
“The Nine-sixty-sixth Wing.”
“Air Intelligence Agency? You own every other satellite in the Air Force inventory already, and you control several others I’m sure I don’t want to know about. What do you need NIRTSats for?”
“I need a look at some Russian bomber bases to set some baseline database imagery.”
“Hold on a sec.” David Luger began entering commands into his desktop computer, pulling up a complex grid of lines surrounding the globe at various different levels, then studying the results. “I assume you’ve looked at your current taskings? You’ve got them pretty well covered.”
“All we have covered now are the reported active bomber bases as of the last CFE and NPT treaty reports; the CFE reports are at least two years old, and the NPT and Open Sky reports are over a year old,” Patrick said. “I want all the known bases, active or otherwise — any bases that can still handle a hundred-and-fifty-ton-plus bomber.”
“Like the Backfires, eh?” Dave asked. “The planes that apparently came out of nowhere and bombed the hell out of that CIA base in Uzbekistan?”
“Exactly.”
“We’ve actually been doing some looking ourselves, Muck,” Dave said. “Obviously, if those bombers reached Bukhara, they can reach the peacekeeping forces in Turkmenistan.”
“The Backfire bombers have an unrefueled range of just a little over a thousand miles with a max combat load,” Patrick said. “But none of the Backfires from bases within that radius were used. That means they had to use air refueling. We’ve believed for years that the Russians wouldn’t use Backfires in a strategic role, but if they start putting the air-refueling probes back on and using them for long-range bombing missions, they become a strategic threat once again.”
“Agreed.”
“So now we have to go back and look at every past heavy-bomber base in Russia to find out where the Backfires came from,” Patrick went on, “and also to find out what else is going on. The Tupolev-160 Blackjack bombers aren’t supposed to have air refueling probes either, according to the CFE Treaty, but if they’re putting probes back on Backfires, they can just as easily reactivate the retractable probes on Blackjacks, too.”
“Sounds like good sound reasoning to me, Muck,” Dave said.
“My guess is that the Backfires have been moved east, to somewhere in Siberia,” Patrick said. “It’s just a hunch, but I would like to get updated pics of the old Siberian bomber bases to see if they’ve been active lately.”
�
��So what’s the problem?”
“I haven’t been able to sell my theories to anyone,” Patrick replied. “Around here it comes down to cost versus benefit. Retasking a Keyhole or Lacrosse satellite practically needs a papal edict. Landsat is a polar-orbit bird and won’t help me; if I move Ikonos, it will decrease its service life too much before a replacement can be launched; and SPOT charges too much for images of Russia.” SPOT Image was a private French firm that supplied radar and optical satellite imagery to users all over the world; many governments and military forces, including those of the United States, often purchased up-to-the-minute SPOT images to supplement their own data, or to mask their interest in a particular area. “I can’t convince Houser to send my plan up the chain.”
David said nothing — mostly because a dull pain was starting to develop in his left temple. He wasn’t crazy about the direction this conversation was taking.
“Is the Air Battle Force still heading up the peacekeeping surveillance effort in Turkmenistan?” Patrick asked.
David Luger hesitated a bit before responding. Yep, he told himself, he could clearly see the reason for Patrick’s call now — and he didn’t like it. “I never received any orders relieving us of command,” he said finally, “but with all our planes grounded and the Russians’ advances into the interior of the country, no other surveillance assets instead of satellites have been committed. We’re in charge of nothing right now.”
“The Backfires are obviously a threat to UN peacekeepers—”
“We don’t know that for sure, Muck,” Dave interjected.
“In any case, we can reasonably argue that there was a violation, so an investigation into where those bombers came from is fully justified. The suspected violation authorizes the Air Battle Force to investigate, according to the terms of the Security Council’s cease-fire resolution. That means you’re authorized to employ all necessary assets to investigate the violations. You can legally launch NIRTSats anywhere you want. You can—”
“Patrick,” David Luger said seriously, “I’m not going to do that.”
“Well, you can’t launch from the Megafortresses, because they’re still grounded — although I think after we make this argument, we can get that restriction lifted — but you can launch from the Sky Masters carrier aircraft,” Patrick went on. “I did a preliminary mission plan: two boosters, eight NIRTSats, placed in sixty-five-degree elliptical orbits at two hundred and twenty miles’ altitude — we shouldn’t need one-meter resolution, so we can afford to go a little higher. We’ll get all the baseline shots we need in about twelve days. If we have the fuel, we can reposition whoever’s left to an eighty-degree elliptical at whatever altitude they can make it to and get the remaining shots until we lose the birds. We’ll then plan to—”
“Get me the okay from the Air Force or from Air Combat Command, Patrick, and I’ll do it tomorrow,” Dave said.
“But that’s what I’m saying, Dave — you don’t need authorization from anyone,” Patrick said. “As the joint task force commander, you have full authority to launch those constellations. Then you can just share the data with the Nine-sixty-sixth here, and I’ll—”
“Patrick, I’m sorry, but I won’t do that,” Luger said tonelessly.
“What?”
“I said I’m not launching anything from Battle Mountain without an okay from Air Combat Command or higher,” David said.
“But you have the authority to—”
“No, I don’t,” Luger said. “I’ve been ordered to stand down until our activities have been investigated. The fact that the joint task force has not been terminated doesn’t mean I can ignore a direct order from my superior officers to stand down.”
“But I need that imagery, Dave.”
“I understand, Patrick, and I’m sure we can get it for you. But until I get an order to launch, I won’t do it.”
“Dave, Air Intelligence Agency is authorized to request support from any unit or command in the United States military,” Patrick insisted. “I can call up Beale or Whiteman or Offutt or Elmendorf and launch any number of reconnaissance and intelligence-gathering aircraft I need.”
“Then go ahead and do it, Patrick,” Luger said firmly. “I’ll watch.”
“This isn’t funny, Texas….”
“I’m not being funny at all, Patrick,” David said. “I would love for you to put in a request for support to Air Force or Air Combat Command, because then we’d get recertified and back into the air again. But the bottom line is, if you thought you could do it through normal channels, you would have done it already. You probably already made the request, and it was turned down.”
“Gary Houser is my boss here, Dave,” Patrick said by way of explanation. “You remember Gary, don’t you? He tormented young lieutenants like you for fun, like a cat toying with a mouse.”
“I remember him. He was a great pilot — just not a great person. You protected me from him…took a lot of the heat away from me and put it on you.”
“Well, he’s doing the same shit to me now, here,” Patrick went on. “He wants me to find out where the Backfires came from, but he won’t give me the tools I need to find them. He’s toying with me, hoping I’ll fail and retire.”
“Maybe you’re right, Muck. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Well, I can’t let him get away with that shit.”
“And maybe he’s right, Patrick,” Dave said.
“He’s…what?”
“Maybe you should retire, Patrick.”
Patrick was thunderstruck. He couldn’t believe that his longtime friend and partner just said what he said. “Dave…you don’t really believe that…?”
“Patrick, overflying four hostile countries without permission to retrieve that UCAV after it had gone out of control, then crash-landing on Diego Garcia after being ordered by the secretary of defense himself not to. Or when you ordered the bombing of Engels without authority, when you flew back over Russia in direct violation of orders after Dewey and Deverill were shot down — all those incidents happened because you made them happen. I’ll agree that the situation was desperate, you made a hard decision, and everything turned out for the better for us in the long run. But the fact is, you exceeded your authority each and every time. We don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened — maybe lives would have been lost….”
“Maybe? Engels bombers were preparing to kill every soul in Chärjew. Dewey and Deverill might still be in a Russian prison if I hadn’t gone back for them!”
“You don’t know that, Patrick,” Luger insisted. “In any case, you had no right to disregard orders.”
“I had every right. I was in command.”
“I know your arguments, Patrick, and I disregard them all,” Luger said. “We all have a superior officer. When he or she gives a lawful order, we’re supposed to obey it. The problem is, you don’t. Every day I saw more and more of Brad Elliott emerging from within you.”
“Oh, Christ, you’re not going to give me the ‘I’m turning into Brad Elliott’ bullshit, too, are you?” Patrick retorted. “I heard that enough from Houser and Samson and half the four-stars in the Pentagon. It has nothing to do with Brad Elliott — it has everything to do with accepting responsibility and taking action.” He paused for a few heartbeats, then added, “So you’re not going to consider my request for satellite-reconnaissance support?”
“I’ll be happy to consider it — but I’ll upchannel the request to my superior officers at Air Force, Air Combat Command, and Eighth Air Force,” Luger replied. “That’s what I feel I have to do.”
“You actually think that’s the way you should play this, eh, Dave?” Patrick asked. “Make no decision yourself. Don’t exercise your authority. Ask permission first — and don’t forget to say ‘pretty please.’ ”
“That is the way it’s supposed to be done, Patrick — you just forgot that somehow. Maybe it is Brad Elliott’s influence working on you. There’s no doubt that Brad wa
s your surrogate father, and he praised and encouraged your success in the military the way you know your actual father never would have done. Your real dad wanted you to join the police force, and you told me many times how disappointed he was when his oldest son wouldn’t follow in his footsteps—”
“Don’t give me that Freudian psychobabble crap, Dave.”
“—or maybe it was just your sense of how the bomber world works…no, how your world is supposed to work, your world of instant justice delivered from above.”
“Are you listening to yourself, Dave? Do you really believe all this shit you’re telling me?”
“But that’s not how my world works,” Luger said, ignoring Patrick’s remarks. “In my world, in my command, I need authorization before I commence a risky operation that puts lives and weapon systems in jeopardy.”
“Oh, I get it — you have your command now, and you’re going to do everything you can not to see it get messed up. You’re afraid to take a risk because it might mean you’re unsuited to command a combat unit of your own.”
“With all due respect, Muck—eat shit,” Luger snarled. “The only reason I got this command is because you screwed up, so let’s not forget that. I didn’t ask to get it; I was your deputy, and I was content to do that job. But now I make the decisions here—not you. It is my responsibility and my call, and what I say is that I require authorization from higher headquarters before I’ll commit my aircraft, satellites, airmen, or ground teams. You must get me that authorization before I commence operations. If you don’t, I’ll upchannel your request to my superiors before I begin.
“And you know something, Patrick? I have a feeling you already knew the answer to your request, which is why you came to me first,” Luger went on hotly. “You thought you’d take advantage of our friendship and ask me a favor, hoping I’d go along just because we’ve partnered together for so long. Tell me I’m wrong, Muck.” No response. “Yeah, I thought so. And you wonder why half of Eighth Air Force wants to see you retire. You’ve turned into something I never thought I’d ever see you become.”
