Rogue Forces

by Dale Brown

  “That is not the truth. Those…those things are American weapon systems. The whole world knows this.”

  “The robot and the armored commando were experimental designs and they were never used directly by the U.S. government,” Gardner said, using the story he and his staff had conjured up the minute they got the call from Vice President Ken Phoenix from Nahla. “They belong to a private company that had been contracted by the U.S. Army to provide security for its forces in Iraq.”

  “So they do work for the American government!”

  “No, because after the incident with your reconnaissance plane, their contract with my government was immediately canceled,” Gardner said. “The company was then contracted by the Iraqi government. They were working for the Iraqis when that incident occurred. Frankly I don’t know why your troops were at that crash site to begin with. They weren’t looting the plane, were they?”

  “I resent that implication, sir,” Hirsiz said. “Turkish soldiers are not criminals. The aircraft was involved in the downing of a Turkish jet and the killing of a Turkish pilot; the troops were merely guarding the plane until a formal inquiry could begin.”

  “I see. You should have communicated your intentions better to the Iraqis and to us. But that would have been difficult in the middle of an invasion, wouldn’t it?”

  “So is this your plan now, Mr. Gardner: let the Iraqis take the blame for American actions?”

  “Mr. President, your forces are on Iraqi soil, bombing Iraqi villages and killing Iraqi civilians—”

  “We target only PKK terrorists, sir, terrorists that kill innocent Turks!”

  “I understand, sir, and I agree something needs to be done about the PKK, and the United States has pledged more assistance to Turkey for this. But we do not condone a full-scale ground invasion of Iraq. I warned you about unintended consequences.

  “As for the contractors at Nahla: they are working for the Iraqis and not under our direct control, but we are still allies of Iraq and can intercede on your behalf. The United States would be happy to sit down with Turkey, the Kurdish Regional Government, and Iraq to facilitate an immediate cease-fire by all parties, including contractors; a withdrawal timetable; and more comprehensive security arrangements on the Iraq-Turkey border, including international monitors, to eliminate PKK terrorists from crossing the border. But nothing will happen while Turkish troops are engaged in combat operations inside Iraq, sir.”

  “So, this is a conspiracy: America uses these robots against Turkish troops, pretends they are not involved, but then offers to be an intermediary in negotiations as long as there is a cease-fire,” Hirsiz said angrily. “Again, Turkey is the victim, forced to concede everything, pushed aside and ignored. Then no one notices when another Turkish plane is brought down or another police station blown apart.”

  “Believe me, Mr. President, we want to help Turkey,” Gardner said. “Turkey is one of America’s most important friends and allies. I understand your anger. We can send in monitors, technology, even personnel to patrol the border. But nothing will happen while combat operations are ongoing. They must stop immediately, and Turkish troops must leave Iraq. There’s no other way.”

  “There is only one way we will agree to international monitors along our border, Mr. Gardner: the Kurdistan Regional Government must disavow the PKK and all plans to form an independent state of Kurdistan,” Hirsiz said. “The KRG must remove its flag from all public places, arrest the PKK leaders and turn them over to us for trial, dismantle all PKK training bases, and shut down all companies that support the PKK.”

  “Mr. President, what you’re asking for is impossible,” President Gardner said after a moment’s confusion. “The KRG administers the constitutionally authorized Kurdish region of northern Iraq. To my knowledge, they’ve never supported the PKK.”

  “As long as the KRG exists and tries to separate its territory from the rest of Iraq, the PKK will use terrorism to try to force that into effect,” Hirsiz said. “You know as well as I that some members of the KRG leadership have businesses that secretly launder money and transport weapons and supplies from Iraq and overseas into Turkey. Many, not just Turkey, consider the Iraqi PKK a secret military wing of the KRG.”

  “That’s nonsense, Mr. President,” Gardner insisted. “There is no relationship between the KRG and PKK.”

  “They both want an independent Kurdistan carved out of provinces of Turkey, Iraq, Persia, and Syria,” Hirsiz said angrily. “The Kurdistan regional government obviously does not want to openly recognize a terrorist group like the PKK, so they support them in secret, and they oppose any efforts to shut them down. That will stop immediately! The KRG can administer the three Iraqi provinces of Dohuk, Irbil, and Sulaymaniyah, but they must do so without advocating an independent Kurdistan or trying to expand to the western provinces that have a Turkmen majority. Otherwise, our offensive continues.”

  Joseph Gardner ran a hand over his face in frustration. “Then you’ll agree to negotiations, Mr. President?”

  “No negotiations until the KRG agrees to stop supporting an independent Kurdistan state and agrees to denounce the PKK and bring its leaders to trial for crimes against humanity,” Hirsiz said. “If Baghdad and Irbil cannot get the PKK under control in Iraq and force them to stop killing innocent Turks, we will do the job. Good day, sir.” And he hung up.

  The president slammed the phone down. “Humans shouldn’t be allowed to have this much fun,” he murmured. He turned to his advisers in the Oval Office. “Tell the KRG to stop all plans for independence?” He snapped his fingers. “Sure, we can do that. The only part of Iraq that has its shit together, and Hirsiz wants it shut down. Great.”

  “But he opened the door to negotiations, sir,” chief of staff Walter Kordus said. “Always come in high and hope everyone meets somewhere in the middle.” The president gave him a sideways glance. “At least it’s a start at negotiations.”

  “I guess you could call it that,” the president said. “Did you hear all that, Ken? Stacy?”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Ken Phoenix said from Allied Air Base Nahla. “The Turkish air force is pounding the Iraqi northeastern provinces, especially Irbil and Dohuk provinces. I doubt if either the KRG or Baghdad will negotiate while the Turks are attacking their towns and villages.”

  “NATO is meeting later today to discuss a resolution ordering Turkey to cease fire,” Secretary of State Stacy Anne Barbeau said from Brussels, Belgium, the headquarters of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. “But the resolution has already been watered down to a request to cease fire. The Turks have a fair amount of support in the council here—they’re sympathetic about the continuous PKK attacks despite Turkey’s attempts to give the Kurds in Turkey more aid, a stronger voice in government, and fewer cultural and religious restrictions. I don’t think Turkey is going to get much pressure from NATO or the European Union.”

  “They’re not getting much from Congress either,” the president said. “Most don’t understand the whole Kurdistan question, but they do understand terrorism, and right now they see the PKK as the problem. Turkey will eventually overstay in Iraq and public opinion will turn, especially if they try to widen the conflict.”

  “And the last thing they need is a reason to widen the conflict…which brings me back to McLanahan,” Barbeau said acidly. “What in hell is he doing out there, Mr. Vice President?”

  “He is apparently going to help the Iraqis defend themselves against the Turks,” Phoenix replied. “This mission out to his crashed plane was a test to see what the Turkish army would do. They seemed to do nothing until they went out to the crash site. The Turks were getting ready to move or dismantle the plane, and they tried to chase them away.”

  “And McLanahan attacked.”

  “I watched the images coming from a UAV over the scene,” Phoenix said, “and I listened to the audio as it was happening. McLanahan’s forces didn’t attack until the Turks did, and they even gave them a second warning after a so
ldier shot at the Tin Man commando. After it was obvious the Turks were going to attack the workers, the Tin Man and the CID unit went to work.”

  “And now what’s happening?”

  “Some of the Turks surrounding Nahla Air Base here deployed near the crash site,” Phoenix said. “Dr. Masters and his workers are still at the crash site recovering black boxes and classified equipment. McLanahan’s UAVs have detected some Turkish ground units en route, but they’re afraid the Turkish air force will attack. The Turks have flown helicopters near the site and shot a few mortars at them, trying to scare them into retreating.”

  “You know, I don’t have much sympathy for McLanahan right now,” Gardner said. “He decided to twist the tiger’s tail, and now he might get his ass chewed off. We’re trying to find ways to de-escalate the conflict, and he just goes and finds new ways to escalate it.”

  “We’ll find out what will happen next as soon as Masters starts to head back here to Nahla,” Phoenix said. “There’s about a hundred soldiers and six armored vehicles waiting for him on the highway, and I’ll bet they’re pissed.”

  “I want our guys to stay out of it,” the president ordered. “No Americans get involved. This is McLanahan’s fight. If he gets his guys hurt or killed, it’s his fault.”

  “We should contact the Turkish prime minister and urge restraint, sir,” Phoenix said. “McLanahan’s guys are outnumbered. Even with the Tin Man and CID out there, there’s no way they can fight through the Turkish army. The Turks are going to want some payback.”

  “I hope McLanahan is smart enough not to try to take on the Turks,” the president said. “Stacy, contact Akas’s office again, explain the situation, and ask her to communicate to the Ministry of Defense for the army to hold back.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “McLanahan stepped in it big-time,” the president said as he turned to other business. “Unfortunately, it’s his guys that are going to suffer for it.”

  NEAR ALLIED AIR BASE NAHLA, IRAQ

  A SHORT TIME LATER

  “Incoming!” Charlie Turlock shouted. “Whack…?”

  “I got it,” Wayne Macomber responded. He had had his electromagnetic rail gun out and ready ever since the first mortar shell had been fired toward them about an hour or so ago. Charlie Turlock’s millimeter wave radar system built into her CID robot scanned the skies around them for miles, allowing her to detect the projectiles and instantaneously transmit tracking and targeting information to Wayne’s targeting computers.

  Charlie Turlock also carried her electromagnetic rail gun, but all of her projectiles had already been expended shooting down mortars and her reloads had been blown up when the Sagger destroyed the first Humvee. The forty-millimeter rockets in her backpack might not be fast enough to intercept the mortar shells, but Macomber’s rail gun was more than capable. He simply raised his rifle, using his suit’s powered exoskeleton like a precision aiming platform, and followed the tracking information relayed from the CID unit. He didn’t have to lead the mortar round very much—the electromagnetic rail gun projectiles flew a dozen times faster than a sniper rifle bullet and destroyed the round easily.

  “Salvo!” Charlie shouted. “Four more inbound!”

  “Bastards,” Whack muttered. That was the first time they’d fired more than one at a time. He hit all four easily, but now problems were developing. “I’m getting low on ammo—I’m on the last magazine, six more left,” he said. “I’m also going to need fresh batteries for the rifle and for me.”

  One of the technicians ran over to the remaining Humvee, searched for a few moments, then ran over to Macomber. “No more fresh batteries left,” he said. “We’ll have to plug you in.”

  “Swell,” Whack said. The tech unreeled a power cord from a storage hatch on the back of Macomber’s suit, ran it back to the Humvee, and plugged it into a power receptacle. “Charlie, you’re going to have to try intercepting any more rounds. I’m going to boost my power levels before we have to start moving out. I’ve got just enough juice in the gun to fire the last remaining projectiles.”

  “Roger,” Charlie responded. “I haven’t seen any of those rounds explode, and the projected track shows them missing us. Maybe they’re not live rounds. They’re lobbing them in just to see what we’d do.”

  “Glad we’re providing them with some entertainment,” Whack said. “Can you compute the firing location?”

  “Already have. They haven’t moved it. I can take it out if you want, or drop a gas rocket on them.”

  “I don’t want those guys riled up just yet, and we have to save ammo,” Whack said.

  “Another helicopter inbound, guys,” Patrick McLanahan radioed. “Coming from Turkey this time, higher speed. Might be a gunship. About ten minutes out.”

  “Copy,” Wayne Macomber replied. “Okay, Doc, time to pack it up.”

  “Patrick said ten minutes? I’ll take that.”

  “No, because in ten minutes we’ll be in range of whatever missiles or rockets that chopper might be carrying, and then it’ll be too late,” Whack said.

  “All right,” Jon said dejectedly. “We got the laser radar and satellite comm boxes. I guess that’ll have to do. Too much stuff for one Humvee; we’ll have to put it all on the trailer.”

  It didn’t take long for the group to pack up their equipment. Whack led the way, carrying his rail gun high so the Turkish soldiers could all see it. Charlie carried her spare backpack in her left armored hand and her empty electromagnetic rail gun in her right, hoping just the sight of it might scare some of the Turks. All the engineers squashed together in the surviving Humvee, and all their tools, equipment, and retrieved boxes were in the trailer.

  “How long until our help arrives, General?” Whack asked on his secure command channel.

  “They look like they’re changing formations, Whack,” Patrick asked. “Try to stall as long as you can.”

  “What about that chopper?”

  “Couple minutes more.”

  “Those numbers aren’t matching, General,” Whack said grimly. On the Turkish command channel he had detected, he said, “Listen up, Captain Evren. We’re coming out. We don’t want a fight with you guys. We’re going to bring our stuff back into the base. Make way.”

  “No, Americans,” Evren responded a moment later, the surprise that his radio channel was being used by the robots obvious in his voice. “You will be detained and that equipment confiscated. You assaulted members of my unit and myself. For this you must be punished.”

  Whack stopped the convoy. “Captain, listen to me very carefully,” he said. “You know what we can do. What you might not know is that we have an unmanned aircraft circling overhead. If you don’t believe me, look up.” At that instant Patrick shut down and restarted the engine on the AGM-177 Wolverine he had orbiting over the area, which caused a streak of brown smoke to become visible for a few seconds. “That is an attack drone, and it can take out all of your armor and your men with guided bomblets. I’ll order it flown over your positions before we move in, and when it’s done we’ll take care of anyone that’s still standing. Now move aside.”

  “I have my orders, American,” Evren said. “You will lay down your weapons and power off the robot and the drone and surrender. If you do not, we will attack.”

  “Got an ID on that inbound chopper, Whack,” Charlie said. “Cobra gunship. More U.S. surplus. Can’t see his weapons but I’ll bet he’s loaded for bear.”

  “Last chance, Captain,” Whack said. “Otherwise we start shooting. Move aside.”

  “I will not. Surrender or be killed. In case you have not noticed, we have our own air support. It is not as advanced as your unmanned aircraft, but I assure you it is deadly. After it attacks, there will be nothing left of you for us to, as you say, take care of.”

  “I’m going to have to take out that Cobra first, Charlie,” Whack said. “Watch my back—they’re bound to open fire when—”

  Suddenly Charlie shouted, “Mi
ssile launch!”

  “From where, Charlie?”

  “Behind us!” Just then they heard a loud BANG! Whack and Charlie turned just in time to see a spiral of white smoke arc skyward and hit the Cobra. The helicopter started a hard right bank, seemed to wobble, then started a downward autorotational spin until it hit the ground in a hard but survivable crash.

  “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Whack shouted on the Turkish command channel. On their discrete channel, he radioed, “I hope that was you, Jaffar.”

  “Yes, Macomber,” Colonel Yusuf Jaffar responded on the discrete command channel. His northern battalion had hit the Cobra gunship with a Stinger shoulder-fired missile. “Sorry we are late, but I believe you are early. No matter. We are all here and ready to take on the Turks.”

  “Hopefully no one will take on anyone here,” Whack said. He gave Jaffar the Turkish company’s frequency, then said on that channel, “The Cobra gunship was hit by an Iraqi antiaircraft missile, Captain Evren,” he said. “The Iraqi Nahla brigade is advancing on this position.” At that moment he could see the Turkish troops on the right start to fidget and rustle about; they had apparently gotten a visual on the northernmost battalion. “Captain Evren?”

  After a somewhat long and uncomfortable pause: “Yes, American.”

  “I don’t command the Iraqi army, and you did invade their country,” Whack said, “but my forces are not going to attack unless we are attacked first. I ask Colonel Jaffar not to attack as well. He is listening in. He is going to escort my team back to Nahla Air Base. I urge everyone to remain calm and keep your fingers off the trigger. Captain, if you would like to send a team out to inspect the downed Cobra, you may do so. Colonel Jaffar, would that be acceptable?”

  “That would be acceptable,” Jaffar replied.

  “Good. Captain, we’re on the move. Make way, and everyone be calm.”

  It was quite an impressive sight. Off the main highway north of Nahla, the Tin Man and the CID robot, with their rail gun rifles now slung over their shoulders, led the Humvee towing the trailer full of parts and tools across the open field. The Turkish platoons were arrayed on either side of the highway in front of them. Coming in from the northwest was a full battalion of Iraqi infantry, and coming in on the highway northeast of the base was another Iraqi battalion. They all converged on the intersection of the two highways.