by Dale Brown
“Is there any kind of self-destruct mechanism?”
“No, sir—that’s too dangerous in a spacecraft normally subject to very high heat and stresses. Master Sergeant Wohl destroyed any electronic components by hand that he could find or that were pointed out to him by Captain Noble; wearing the Tin Man suit, that would have been done very quickly and effectively. But the Iranians may still be able to recover any data or programming stored in the components they seized.”
“What about Sergeant Dolan and the suit he was wearing?”
Patrick looked uncomfortable, almost pained, but he kept his head and shoulders straight as he replied, “We’re hoping that the RPG rounds and the 105-millimeter tank round that killed Sergeant Dolan destroyed most of the armor and electronics in the suit. But the Iranians have taken a very valuable piece of hardware along with the body of a U.S. soldier. They need to give all of it back immediately or face the most severe consequences.”
“That’s not your call, McLanahan!” Jonas Sparks retorted loudly. “We’re in this mess because you didn’t plan properly, and you’re not going to even think about doing anything to recover what was taken without full presidential authority!” He rubbed his eyes wearily. “Jesus, this could be the worst compromise of highly classified technology since John Walker or Robert Hanssen.”
“Those guys were spies and traitors—the Black Stallion was attacked by Iranians inside Turkmenistan,” Vice President Maureen Hershel said. “There’s a big difference.”
“What I meant was, the damage done due to the loss of our most sensitive and cutting-edge technology is much worse, Miss Vice President,” Sparks said. Maureen scowled at the national security adviser but said nothing.
“Sir, I wanted to update you and the national security staff on developments in Iran,” Patrick said. “We’ll have to deal with the loss of the Black Stallion and Tin Man technology later.” The President looked perturbed and grim, but nodded.
“First, we’ve located about a dozen forward-deployed launch sites or hiding spots for as many as a hundred medium- and long-range Iranian missiles,” Patrick said. “The Iranians have deployed a large number of decoys but we’ve been able to separate most of them out. We believe they might have another six to ten more launch sites in other locations. We discover at least one new site per day so I feel confident we can find the rest soon.
“The Air Battle Force has the capability of neutralizing the Iranian missiles in three ways: by destroying as many launchers as possible with air and ground strikes; by hitting missiles in the boost phase with our AL-52 Dragon airborne laser; and by hitting more in the cruise phase of flight with air-launch anti-ballistic missiles,” Patrick went on. “Although we can have the ground units in place quickly, it’ll take two days at least for the full force to get set up over Iran and ready to strike.”
“How many of the dozen sites do you think you can take out, McLanahan?” National Security Adviser Sparks asked.
“Conservatively, with our full force in place: fifty percent,” Patrick replied. “We coordinate the spaceborne, air-breathing, and ground attacks, and make sure our anti-ballistic missile aircraft are over the likely launch and target areas when the attacks begin.”
“Fifty percent? I don’t think that’s good enough to risk a larger-scale war in the Persian Gulf, Patrick,” Vice President Hershel said.
“We’d limit our attacks to the heaviest missiles we can find, the ones that can threaten our forces or our allies in Iraq, the Middle East, or Central Asia,” McLanahan said. “Thanks to Colonel Raydon in Armstrong Space Station and the NIRTSat constellation we launched in support of our ground operations, we’ve located a half-dozen possible missile launch sites in the western and southern sections of the country, containing approximately a hundred medium- and long-range rockets and missiles, including the Shahab-2, Shahab-3, and possibly the Shahab-4 and -5 long-range missiles.
“However, although the recon data is updated regularly, we might not know in time if a mobile launcher missile has been moved,” Patrick went on, “so we would need to place some eyes in the sky to keep constant watch on the known or suspected launch sites. We would use the Black Stallion spaceplanes and the Megafortress bombers to launch small unmanned aerial vehicles over the launcher sites. These drones can stay aloft for almost two days and send back real-time videos of the launch sites. If they move, we’ll know about it. Once the Black Stallions and Megafortresses are on station, they can destroy any Iranian missiles within minutes.”
“So now we’re sending manned and unmanned aircraft and armed spaceplanes over Iran,” Maureen Hershel summarized, “and attacking Iranian missiles, all without a declaration of war or even a certain threat to any American or allied forces? Are we sure we want to be doing this?”
“Miss Vice President, that’s a decision for the national security staff,” Patrick said, his eyes narrowing a bit at Maureen’s question. “But all the intel and information we’re receiving tells me that the Iranian leadership will order the Revolutionary Guards to use their missiles again if Buzhazi stages another attack, which if he survived the attack on Arān he will most certainly do…”
“That’s my point, Patrick: should we attack the Revolutionary Guards, or even have strike aircraft over Iran in the first place, if we think Tehran will just attack insurgent forces inside its own borders?” Maureen asked. “My opinion is, we should not. Iranians killing Iranians is tragic and despicable, but it’s not a reason for us to go to war. Theirs is not an act of war…ours most certainly would be.”
“Maureen…er, ma’am, I’m informing the national security staff that I have forces in place that I think have a very good chance of taking out Iran’s long-range missile force,” Patrick said, painfully aware that he was speaking much more sharply at Maureen than he liked. “I’m not guaranteeing that I can neutralize Iran’s Revolutionary Guards or even neutralize all their missiles—all I’m saying is, I can send my forces into action in hours and reduce Iran’s ability to threaten its neighbors or attack its own people. All I need is a decision from this group whether or not to send me in and do it.”
President Martindale looked at his vice president, then over at Patrick quizzically. “I thought you two would have a closer meeting of the minds,” he said in a quiet voice. He turned to the Secretary of State. “Mary, get in contact with someone in charge in Tehran. I want to impress on them the seriousness of the situation here. And prepare a statement for the allies, informing them of the capture of one of our commandos and that we are contemplating a military response.”
“Yes, sir,” Secretary of State Mary Carson said. She picked up her phone on the conference table, gave instructions to the Signals officer and then to her staff at the State Department, then hung up to wait for a callback. “The U.S. affairs office in the Swiss embassy in Tehran informed us that they have been dealing with an Ayatollah Hassan Mohtaz, who is the chief military adviser to President Ahmadad, similar to our national security adviser—he’s apparently the senior leader in the government, or the one picked to stay in public view. I asked to speak with him directly. My staff is drafting an urgent flash e-mail to NATO and the Gulf Cooperative Council states.”
“Who do you have inside Iran right now, Patrick?” Maureen asked.
“Master Sergeant Wohl is still in Iran, traveling with the Qagev princess,” Patrick said. “Captain Noble and the body of Captain Lefferts are somewhere in Khorāsān province with Qagev partisans, awaiting exfiltration.”
“What? You left Noble with a bunch of unknown Iranian revolutionaries?” Gardner retorted. “Why didn’t the master sergeant go with him?”
“It was Master Sergeant Wohl’s decision, and I reluctantly authorized it,” Patrick said. “Wohl’s mission was to rescue the Qagev leadership from the Iranians, return them to their underground network, stay with them, and report back on their capabilities, organization, and progress. Captain Hunter is needed back at Dreamland to fly the Black Stallion spaceplanes—they�
�re headed in opposite directions. We decided the best course of action was to trust Boomer with the partisans.”
“You trust the Qagevs so much that you’d risk Noble’s life with those Iranians?” Maureen asked. “Noble would fetch a hefty bounty if they decided to turn him over to Ahmodod.”
“It was a risk we had to take, ma’am,” Patrick explained. “We’re in constant communications with Captain Noble, and we know exactly where he is through his hypodermal transceiver. An Air Force Special Operations team is en route from Afghanistan to meet up with them—they should rendezvous in less than two hours from now. He’ll be flown from Herat, Afghanistan back to the United States aboard a Black Stallion spaceplane. He’ll be home about six hours from now.” The President and most of his advisers in the Oval Office shook their heads at that news, hardly believing that someone could be taken from the middle of nowhere in western Asia back to the United States so quickly.
Secretary of Defense Gardner, however, was not impressed. “Any more forces in Iran?” he asked accusingly. “What about in the region? Who else have you sent out that way, other than a ten-billion-dollar space station and several dozen mini-satellites?”
“I deployed exactly what I briefed the national security staff earlier, Mr. Secretary,” Patrick said. “I ordered two EB-1C Vampire flying battleships deployed to Diego Garcia. They should arrive in about fourteen hours. They are carrying Condor special ops transport aircraft, each with a force of two Tin Man and CID ground units. They can be armed for suppression of enemy air defense, ground attack, or anti-air missions after they deploy the Condor transports. I have one AL-52 Dragon anti-missile laser aircraft deployed to Diego Garcia as well.”
“So you propose to locate and destroy all of the Iranian ballistic missile sites with four commandos, three bombers, and two spaceplanes?” Gardner asked incredulously. “It’s not possible. And do you expect to do all this without the Iranians finding out about it and screaming bloody murder? What if they discover your guys or your stealth bombers, fear we’re executing an all-out attack, panic, and decide to launch every biochem and nuke they have at Israel, Bahrain, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, or Kuwait? Will your toys stop them? If one nuke gets through and hits just one city like Tel Aviv or Doha, an entire nation ceases to exist. A dozen supertankers pass within Iranian anti-ship missile range every day. Are you going to take all those missile sites out as well too?”
“My concern is with Iran’s ballistic missiles…”
“Why are they more important than Iran’s anti-ship missiles or weapons of mass destruction, General?” Gardner retorted. “You’ve lost perspective here, General.” He turned to the President and went on, “Mr. President, McLanahan’s plan is impressive and very high-tech, and we’ve all seen his weapons’ effectiveness over the years, but unless we take the time to mobilize follow-on and defensive forces, we’re leaving ourselves wide open to disaster. An Iranian counterattack could be devastating.”
“But if we do nothing, and the Iranian Revolutionary Guards strike…”
“Then they’ll have the blood of their own people on their hands,” Maureen said. “But if we strike, and the Iranians retaliate, we could possibly lose millions of friendly forces and allies. It’s too big of a gamble, Patrick.”
“But if we do nothing, we may be passing up our best chance of assisting a people’s revolution in Iran,” Patrick said. “Master Sergeant Wohl is traveling with the Qagev princess, and according to his reports the Qagev have a sizable political, civil, and military infrastructure in place…”
“Enough to defeat the Revolutionary Guards? I don’t think so,” Director of Central Intelligence Gerald Vista said.
“It’s another important factor in the array of forces opposing the Pasdaran and the theocratic regime…” McLanahan said.
“And it could be another complicating factor too, McLanahan,” Vista pointed out. “There’s absolutely no indication whatsoever that the military would accept another monarchy—especially a Qagev, a dynasty that was bloodlessly overthrown almost eighty years ago. Recent surveys indicate that only 30 percent of the population might accept another monarchy.”
“I’m familiar with those polls—they were taken either in secret during the current regime, or the respondents were Iranian expatriates,” Patrick said. “It’s not representative…”
“We’re not going to base our foreign policy or military response on surveys and polls, Patrick,” Maureen commented.
“I agree, ma’am,” Patrick said. “Nevertheless, the monarchists are viable, organized, well-funded, and on the move, and the regular army still hasn’t supported the Pasdaran’s efforts to shut down Buzhazi’s insurgency. We should make every attempt to support any uprisings in Iran.”
“Now you want to support this Azar Qagev instead of Buzhazi?” the President asked. “Which is it, Patrick?”
“Both, sir,” Patrick said. “We support both insurgencies and we try to steer the outcome in our favor.”
“Which is what?” Gardner interjected. “A military junta led by Buzhazi, who at one time was one of the biggest Islamist enforcers of them all? Another monarchy that lavishes itself with palaces and gold while repressing their people?”
“Neither, Mr. Secretary,” Patrick said. “As flawed as we believe it is, Iran is a democracy, and an overwhelming majority of the people want a democracy. Frankly, I don’t think it matters if the people rally behind a general that uses his power to destroy the Pasdaran and strip the theocrats from their grip on the government, or a historical monarchy that brought that country into the twentieth century and made it an important Western ally. What we care about is that Iran becomes a stable, open, representative society, able to defend itself and its government against hostile and repressive forces.” He looked at each one of the presidential advisers, then said, “Or we can just pull our guys out, then sit back and simply watch what happens next.”
Most of the advisers and Cabinet officials shook their heads at Patrick’s speech-making but fell silent and looked at the President, not offering any more arguments. The President looked at them knowingly. He knew that McLanahan’s arguments made sense to them—they were just miffed that McLanahan was making them.
Secretary of State Carson’s computer terminal beeped, and she scrolled through the messages. “Response from the Iranian government through the Swiss embassy, sir,” she said as she read. “Looks like it might be going out over the news wires and Middle East news outlets soon too.”
The President could see the consternation growing on her face. “What did they say, Mary?”
“They say, ‘The Iranian Revolutionary Guards have captured a spy that killed several of their embassy staff just outside Ashkhabad, Turkmenistan, who were out on cooperative security maneuver exercises with their Turkmeni counterparts,” Carson read. “‘The Americans have claimed responsibility for the attacks, making President Martindale completely and personally liable for the murders. The captured spy and other evidence recovered at the scene of the murders is being held and analyzed for the upcoming trial.”
“Bastards,” the President muttered.
“The message further states, ‘The Iranian government believes that the American military spy was assisting anti-Iranian terrorist and insurgent forces to illegally infiltrate into Iran, recruit and train anti-government rebel forces, attack Iranian military, civilian, and government targets, work with the insurgents to disrupt or destroy the democratically elected government, and attack Muslim holy sites and supply centers that help the poor and underprivileged, such as what occurred in Qom and Arān,’” Carson went on. “‘The Iranian government condemns this irrational and unprovoked hostile action, and it calls upon the peaceful law-abiding nations of the world to join the Islamic Republic in indicting the United States and President Martindale for committing these atrocious acts.
“‘If the United States continues its illegal covert war, sends military forces within striking range of Iran, sen
ds spy planes, spacecraft, space weapons, military space platforms, and satellites over our territory to pick targets to strike, or continues to foment and support terrorist and separatist actions, the Islamic Republic of Iran has no choice but to retaliate massively and with all means available at a time and place of our choosing against the United States and all of its allies, supporters, client states, and interests around the world.’ There is a bunch of religious citations and the usual call for all devout and loyal Muslims to holy war against America, Israel, and anyone aligned with us. End of message.”
“Carl, get General Lewars in here and let’s draft up a statement for immediate release to the press,” the President said. Chief of staff Minden was already on the phone to the rest of his people. “Let’s schedule a meeting with the leadership and we’ll get them briefed up too. Mary and I will field the calls from overseas that I expect will start coming in…”
The computer on the President’s desk beeped, and he glanced at the display. “First up, President Zevitin of Russia,” he said resignedly. Since the American Holocaust, President Martindale had a policy of always taking calls that came directly from a handful of world leaders, and President Leonid Zevitin of Russia was one of them. Martindale got along with Zevitin and usually had productive and open talks with him, but he was dreading this call.
Zevitin, one of the youngest presidents of Russia at age forty-nine, was the second president of Russia since the American Holocaust just four years ago. He didn’t come from the Party apparatus, government, or the military, but from Russia’s rapidly growing oil, gas, and nuclear energy industry. He was educated in America and Britain and headed several large multinational energy companies in postings around the world before being chosen to head Russia’s energy ministry. His wealth, good looks, charm, and international presence made him popular in Russia as well as around the world, and when the interim military president of Russia suddenly died at the surprisingly young age of sixty-one, Zevitin was elected president in a landslide.
