“She never dissed me. Ever. Bastian did. Him and Rubeo. Rubeo was the real problem, the sexless prick.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Michaels, calling a quick truce. “Rubeo was always decent to me.”
“You met him twice.”
“Do you really think you can control 30 May? They’re Stone Age crazoids. They don’t just believe in God, they think He talks to them through the Koran. Give me a break.”
“They’re useful. For the moment. As I say — we either get the technology that allows the machines to work together or we hire an army. Which do you want?”
The arrangement with the rebels was based solely on mutual convenience, and Braxton put no trust in them. True, when they started, he had hoped to carve out a refuge here in Malaysia, a place Kallipolis could use as its physical base. But after a few months it had become obvious that neither the rebels nor Malaysia would be suitable in the long term. Even if the locals could be dealt with, the Chinese were too active. Apparently aware of some of the technology Braxton was exploiting, they’d tried to infiltrate the rebel network and even reached out through intermediaries to make a deal. Braxton would have nothing to do with them; they were even worse than the Americans.
“What are you going to do if the U.S. sends more than a few Marines?” asked Michaels.
“What we’re doing now. We bloody them, and we do it publicly. The President will back off. Her approval rating is sinking. She has all sorts of problems. Don’t fret, Christopher. As soon as I have one of the Sabres, I’m gone and on to the next phase. As planned.”
“I say, get the ships, get everything the hell out of there. That’s the best bet. We don’t need this fight. We have all the freedom money can buy. That’s what we need.”
“What?”
“You heard me. We don’t need this. This — it’s a pipe dream.”
“What happened to your ideals?” asked Braxton, truly shocked. Michaels had been one of his most fervent backers from the beginning.
“I still have them.” Michaels’s mouth moved for a moment, finishing the sentence. His eyes were intense, but something had changed.
“You’re getting married,” said Braxton. “You’ve decided.”
“We’re not going to a government, or a church,” said Michaels. There was the faint hint of a smile on his face. “But we are making a commitment. To each other.”
“That’s very nice.”
“Thank you.” Michaels didn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
“I’m going ahead as planned. I’ll see you in Kazakhstan in six weeks. We can discuss your future involvement then.”
Braxton knew there would be none, but it made no sense to declare that now.
“I can’t talk you out of this?” asked Michaels.
Braxton frowned, and hit the kill switch, ending the conversation.
Love, he thought bitterly to himself. It was a worse opiate than religion.
15
Finally giving in to the demands of his body, Danny hit his cot around 1000 hours, planning to sleep for two hours. But he slept until close to 6:00 P.M., when Turk Mako was shaking his shoulder.
“Colonel, you need to check this out,” said Turk. “We have hot video — there’s a column of rebels coming up from the south. It has to be a couple of hundred guys.”
“Wh-What?” stuttered Danny, still half-buried in sleep.
“Come on over to the command post and have a look,” said Turk.
Danny folded himself out of bed. His body was stiff, his muscles complaining that the humid air didn’t agree with them.
“You OK, Colonel?” asked Turk.
“Yeah.” He stretched. “Any coffee over there?”
“Plenty, and it’s stronger than the liquid scat the mechanics brew at Dreamland.”
“Good.”
Danny pulled on his boots and grabbed his tablet on the way out. The Marines were already suiting up for battle, their Ospreys warming on the airstrip.
“Looks like we got their attention,” said Captain Thomas. “We’re going to hit them when they come through the valley. Both sides.”
The Marines would land near the route the rebels were taking. Splitting in half, they would attack from the north and the west, hammering them from two sides. The Malaysians would accompany them.
“We need air support and protection when the UAVs come,” said Captain Thomas. “The squadron is down to one pilot, which means one plane. I’m asking for more coverage from the assault ship, but they’re way overstretched and it’s quite a haul. I don’t think they can make it in time.”
Danny glanced at Turk. The pilot studiously avoided his gaze.
“Turk may be able to take one of the slots,” Danny said. “I’ll discuss it with Greenstreet.”
“Great. Thanks,” added Thomas. “What about you, Colonel? Where do you want to be?”
“I’m going to sit this battle out,” added Danny. “I need to coordinate with Washington on our next move.”
“Understood.”
“With regret,” added Danny, resisting an urge to change his mind and go. There was just too much to do before his people got there, and if the UAVs appeared, he would be in a better spot here to monitor them.
Contrary to what he expected, Greenstreet told Danny he had no problem with Turk flying. He didn’t necessarily seem pleased, but he was certainly professional.
“If my ground commander wants another plane for more support, he’ll have it,” said the colonel.
“With Turk flying,” added Danny, just to be sure.
“He’s a competent pilot.”
A lot more than that, thought Danny, but he saw no reason to poke the bear.
“Very good, Colonel. I appreciate your cooperation. He’ll get a full update on the UAVs and brief you preflight.”
Greenstreet nodded.
“You don’t have a problem with Turk, do you?” Danny asked.
“He’s a hotshot,” said Greenstreet, a tiny bit of his professional mask slipping. “But we’ll live with it.”
Turk tightened his face as Breanna came on the screen to brief him on the UAVs. He was going to be professional, and only professional.
Her frown told him he didn’t quite succeed.
“Turk, I hope you’re feeling well,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“We’ve been able to analyze the encounter and we have a great deal of information for you. The aircraft looked to be modeled after the Gen 4 Flighthawk, though prior to the improvements we made for the New Mexico range.”
“Right,” said Turk tightly.
“Are you familiar with that project?”
“Somewhat,” said Turk. “It was before my time.”
“Their onboard maneuver library is exactly the same as Gen 3.”
“I recognize that.”
“John Rosen will go through it with you if you need him to,” she said, referring to one of the analysts on the program who had been brought over to Whiplash to help. Rosen worked for one of Rubeo’s companies. “We still have no firm data on the weapons. It’s most likely a 25mm cannon based on the tactics and the visual. Fred McCarthy is going to run down the probable capabilities.”
McCarthy’s face flashed on the screen. A retired Navy intelligence specialist, he had spent several years working for the CIA and was now on loan to Special Projects. McCarthy knew as much about weapons as any engineer — or database, for that matter.
“This is what we think they’re firing,” he said, holding up what looked like a thick metal needle. “Depleted uranium. High mass, very small volume. Consider it roughly the equivalent of a 25mm round in an M-242 — yes, I prefer the Army weapon as an analogue for the following reasons…”