“Company Alpha-Charlie reports heavy rotors inbound, fifteen seconds behind the light helicopter,” a radioman reported. “They are requesting permission to engage.”
“Stand by,” Palcikas said.
Up until now, the means to secure the objective were plain — all military units and equipment not belonging to the First Iron Wolf Brigade were considered hostile. But that was no longer true anymore — or was it? The unidentified fixed-wing gunship attacked only the Commonwealth armor units and the ZSU-23-4 guns that were engaging it — other than the antiaircraft-artillery units, it stayed away from Lithuanian units and concentrated its deadly accurate fire on the Black Berets.
Now more unidentified aircraft were coming.
Could the newcomers be friendlies? If they were unidentified friendlies, Palcikas could be hurting his own cause by attacking them. Would a Commonwealth Air Force gunship have behaved as the unidentified gunship had? Probably not — the Commonwealth armor units were definitely defending the Soviet installation, and the Lithuanians were definitely attacking. There could be no mistake about it — the gunship saw the defenders as the enemy and the Lithuanians as friendlies.
If he was wrong, he could be letting the Byelorussians or Russians reinforce the Soviet defenders here in Fisikous. Even two or three companies inside that design-center compound could wreak havoc on Palcikas’ soldiers. But Palcikas knew something else was going on. The security building was a target for something, or someone, else entirely …
“No,” Palcikas finally answered. “No one will engage without my specific orders. Pass to all units: do not engage any aircraft over the complex without my specific orders. I want a positive identification of the inbound aircraft immediately.”
The only eyes they had on the assault zone now, the two AH-1W Sea Cobra helicopters that had been escorting the Spectre gunship, were departing after only one pass over the aircraft-design research compound. It did not belong with the Hammer aircraft, because on this particular mission the Hammer aircraft did not exist.
The MV-225 had to finish the assault alone.
“Hammer, Rattler, I see ground forces, perhaps two to three hundred, dispersed to the east and south of your LZ,” the gunner on one of the AH-1 Sea Cobras reported on the command network. “Additional forces, perhaps another battalion, converging in light vehicles and trucks from the south. The battalion that was hit by the base defenders is regrouping and is setting up a perimeter defense to the west. I see one Zeus unit on the move, but its guns are raised, repeat, raised, in service position. Over.”
“Well, what the hell does that mean?” Lieutenant Marx asked.
“It means they’re servicing their guns,” Gunnery Sergeant Trimble said impatiently. He was still angry at being taken down by his commanding officer in front of the three outsiders. “A Zeus 23-millimeter cannon has a very short barrel life, perhaps three thousand rounds, which is just a few engagements. The barrels have to be changed frequently. That thing is still alive.”
“We’re not reporting any triple-A signals,” McLanahan said. “The radar is down.”
“That don’t mean shit, either, McLanahan,” Trimble said. “If I was servicing my own rig, I wouldn’t have my radar on either — they know we can home in on their radars by now.”
McLanahan lowered his eyes and did not reply — he knew that what the big Marine said was true. Getting Luger was blinding him to the dangers they faced. He had to face reality: Luger was probably dead.
Trimble turned to Marx. “Sir, the LZ is hot. This is a special ops mission, not a MAGTF mission. This team only has thirty-three members, and there’s at least a battalion down there. We got no choice but to recommend an abort. You can’t risk an entire company for this zoomie—”
McLanahan’s nostrils flared, and Briggs was ready to get in Trimble’s face again, but this time Lieutenant Marx held up a hand quickly and said, “You’re right, Gunny, you’re right.” He turned to McLanahan and Ormack and, feeling guilty enough to offer an explanation, said, “If the Spectre took out more of the triple-A batteries, we could proceed, but there’s still live Zeus-23s down there. The SEA HAMMERs wouldn’t stand a chance over the security building with that thing nearby.” Marx reached for the command net microphone and depressed the mike button: “Hammer Lead, this is Four. Over…
“Hammer units, monitor UHF GUARD channel and stand by,” came Snyder’s call a few seconds later. Up in the cockpit of the second MV-22 SEA HAMMER, the copilot switched the radios so the Marines in the cargo section could hear the universal emergency channeclass="underline"
“Attention inbound helicopters, attention inbound helicopters, this is General Dominikas Palcikas,” a message came over a few moments later in heavily accented English. “I am the commander of the Grand Duke’s First Iron Wolf Brigade of the Lithuanian Republic. My forces now occupy the Fisikous Research Institute in Vilnius and other defense installations throughout the republic, in the name of the people of Lithuania. The Black Beret troops defending this installation have been removed. I seek only to return the Lithuanian Republic to the people of Lithuania.
“I order you to identify yourself immediately or you will be fired upon without further warning. If you are friendly, and if you will comply immediately, you will not be fired upon. I will repeat this message in Russian. This will be my final warning. Identify yourself immediately.” The message paused, then repeated in the Russian language.
The shock of that short message had quieted everyone in the cargo section of the MV-22. Finally Trimble retorted, “What is this shit? There’s no such thing as the Grand Duke’s Iron Wolf Brigade in Lithuania.”
“Palcikas… Palcikas …” Marx muttered; then, recalling his background intelligence briefings, announced, “Palcikas! Dominikas Palcikas, the commander of the Lithuanian Self-Defense Force!”
“He’s staged a coup,” Wohl said with admiration. “A damned Lithuanian Army general has staged a coup.”
“Not a coup. A military takeover,” Marx said. “If what he says is true, he’s commanding those troops down there.”
“That means we can proceed,” McLanahan said. “We’re Americans. We’re not trying to take over Fisikous.” He hesitated; then, with a shocked expression, he realized what this really meant to their mission. “Jesus … Luger …”
“Looks like Palcikas may have caused the death of the zoomie after all,” Trimble said. “If they had orders to kill their prisoners in case of a rescue attempt, he’s dead.”
“Shut up!” McLanahan shouted, ready to take a swing at Trimble.
“We can’t go down there now,” Trimble said, ignoring McLanahan. “We’ve been blown for sure. This is supposed to be a covert mission. We can’t have a fucking audience watching us touch down on that rooftop.”
“We can’t leave until we get Luger,” Ormack said. “Dead or alive, we’ve got to get him.”
“Like hell.”
“Palcikas is giving us clearance to overfly the compound,” McLanahan ‘insisted. “If we show we’re not hostile to his forces, we can keep going.”
“And what if it’s not this Palcikas character?” Trimble retorted. “What if it’s just the Black Berets trying to lure us down there? Those Zeus-23s will hose us if we get too close. I recommend we abort, Lieutenant. Follow the proper procedures, sir. Let’s get the hell out of here-now!”