Return to Honor (27 page)

Do’brai airport: ALH 787

The marines moved about Kamil and his aide in a snaking circle. They slowly made their way down the half mile of runway to the 787. Kamil and his aide were never hidden by one of the marines for more than a heartbeat. If any sniper tried to fell a marine, chances are they would hit and kill the general. Their progress was maddeningly slow, but it ensured the marines’ survival.

The sun was inching higher in the cloudless sky. Sweat rolled off the men’s bodies, glistening in the growing heat. The marines were silent; their delicate dance around the Do’brainese officers was too involved for conversation. In addition, each man had a responsibility to cover an area. The orders were to shoot first and ask questions later—there could be no mistakes because of hesitation.

As the 787 grew closer they felt an almost uncontrollable urge to sprint toward the plane. Step, turn, scan the horizon, then duck behind the aide. Repeat the process in the opposite direction, but this time duck behind the general. It was a flawless ballet, played for survival.

Krandel was so involved in the movement that he nearly stumbled over the plane’s aluminum stairs. “Keep moving and use the general to shield us up the ladder. Morales, take the point and keep facing outward.”

“Yes, sir.” The men started up the stairs backward with Morales leading, holding the general. Once Morales ducked into the plane he ran to the back, checking the seats and storage cabinets for any unfriendlies. He met Krandel at the hatch as the colonel backed into the plane. “Deserted, sir. No one alive on board.”

“Good. Have the men position themselves around the escape hatches in case the locals try anything funny. Also, raise BIGEYE and let them know our status. General Kamil and I are going to the flight deck to get a flight crew out here. Havisad, I’ll need you to translate.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Morales spun on his heel and sped out, assigning men to their stations.

Havisad dragged out the bodies of the crew he had shot a scant few hours before. “It’s clear, Colonel.”

Krandel prodded Kamil with his weapon. “Move.” Krandel pushed the general and his aide forward to the flight deck.

General Kamil turned to Krandel once they were inside the cockpit. “You will never leave Do’brai alive.”

“Shut up.”

Krandel motioned to Havisad. “Raise the control tower on the radio and get a flight crew out here for this bird.”

General Kamil persisted. “They will refuse, Colonel. And without a pilot you cannot leave Do’brai. The longer you keep me here, the harder it will be for me to convince President Ash’ath not to press charges against you.”

“Charges? That’s a joke. If we surrender, what’s to prevent you from killing us?”

General Kamil’s eyes widened. “Kill you? We guaranteed your Vice President that we would give you safe passage from Do’brai if you surrendered. But instead you deceived us and took me captive. That in itself is an act of war. President Ash’ath is benevolent—but only if you do not try his patience. So come now, Colonel. Release me and I will smooth things over.”

“Go to hell.”

Krandel turned his attention to Havisad while keeping an eye on the prisoners. “What’s the story, Private?”

Havisad put down his headphones. “The general knows what he’s talking about, sir. The control tower refuses to speak with us until the general is released.”

“Great.” Krandel snorted.

“Uh, sir?”

Krandel answered irritably, “What?”

“Sir, how about threatening them—telling them we’ll shoot the general if they don’t send out a crew?”

General Kamil broke in before Krandel had a chance to answer. “The colonel knows that I am of use to you only as long as I am alive. Once I die the plane will be stormed, and every one of your commando comrades will be killed.”

“I said shut up.” Krandel pushed the rifle into the general’s side. Krandel knew that General Kamil was right—Kamil had him over a barrel. He was about to speak when Morales ran onto the flight deck.

“Sir, BIGEYE reports that a TAV has just established communications with them and is on final approach to Do’brai. The NECC has given us control of the runway clearer to cover us on the way out.”

Krandel nodded. “Have BIGEYE inform the TAV pilot to land by the 787. We’ll transfer to his craft as soon as he lands. I want you to get a spotter and relay targeting info to BIGEYE for the runway clearer. If anyone gets within a half mile of us, have the runway clearer blow the hell out of them.”

“Yes,
sir!
”
Morales left, grinning for the first time since they landed.

Krandel turned to the general. “General, take off your uniform.”

“I do not understand what you want me to do.”

Krandel growled, “I said strip, and make it fast.” Krandel’s spirits lifted. For a business that had its ups and downs, the TAV’s arrival was certainly an up.

Do’brai airport tarmac

Hujr turned in the sand, following the marines and Kamil as they made their way to the airplane. Every time Kamil came into view an American stepped in front of the general and blocked the shot.

Hujr’s patience began to wane. The Americans
had
to miss a step; but as he waited, the escort went perfectly.

When they entered the aircraft they were well over a hundred meters away. He had to move closer.

Hujr lay still for several minutes. The militia started to move toward the plane, but they stayed well away from where Hujr lay. The time dragged, and the Americans did not show themselves.

He inched forward, centimeter by centimeter and kept low to the ground until he was a bare fifty meters from the 787. Debating what to do, Hujr’s thoughts were broken by a distant high-pitched screaming. The sound grew louder, and, almost before he could focus on it, a sleek black plane bolted down the runway, stopping before the 787.

Hujr had never seen anything like it. It was fragile-looking, yet it seemed big enough to carry several men. Once again, Hujr waited patiently.

Chapter 11

0630 ZULU: SUNDAY, 9 SEPTEMBER

This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is rather the end of the beginning.

Winston Churchill

Do’brai airport: Ojo-1

Gould’s adrenaline level was sky-high when he jumped from the TAV. The 787 lay to his right.

As he came down over the remains of Delores’ burning TAV he suppressed the emotion he’d felt earlier about her. As much as he wanted, this was no time to grieve. The important thing now was to get his TAV turned around and transfer the fuel from the bladder in the hold to his wing tanks.

Four marines poured out of the 787 and sprinted to the TAV’s stubby wings.

Gould directed traffic. “Turn her counter-clockwise. Swing her around so she’s facing the other way.”

As the marines started moving the tiny suborbital craft Gould jumped back inside and started the electric pumps to transfer the fuel. Satisfied that the fuel was flowing unhindered, he pushed the JATO units to the hatch. He’d get the marines to attach the units to the craft.

Suddenly gunfire erupted outside, beating a tattoo against the runway.

Gould pushed away from the JATOs and stuck his head outside the craft; the marines kept turning the TAV, ignoring the bullets. Gould yelled, “You men get down!” Do’brainese militiamen took potshots at the marines. Gould set himself, expecting the TAV to be punctured by a projectile at any moment.

The marines ignored his cry, determined to get the plane ready for takeoff. Gould was about to bellow another order when a strange sound came from beyond the runway.

A squat, tanklike object rolled onto the asphalt and swung its turret around with blinding speed. A whooshing sound came from the object. Explosions erupted down the runway.

Gould’s jaw dropped. “Holy crap.…what the hell is
that?”
His question remained unanswered as the miniature tank swiveled, picking off snipers, vehicles, and anything Do’brainese that moved. He stood mesmerized by the apparition until a lone figure zigzagged from the 787 to the TAV.

A marine ran up breathlessly. “Sir, I’m Corporal Morales. Colonel Krandel requests your presence on board the 787 when you’re free.”

Requests his presence? This was surreal. Where did Krandel think he was—in the O-club bar? “Right.”

Gould dropped from the TAV and ran bent over. He followed the corporal the fifty yards to the jumbo jet.

Once on board, he was led to the cockpit. When Krandel turned to him, Gould was astonished at the man’s appearance. He looked as if he’d aged ten years—and it was less than eight hours since Gould had last seen him.

Gunfire continued outside the plane, but the whooshing sound dominated all the explosions. Gould could make out the tanklike vehicle through the cockpit as it continued to neutralize the Do’brainese forces.

Krandel drew his lips tight. “Major Gould. I’m surprised to see you, but welcome back. How soon can you get us out of here?”

Gould turned his attention from the view outside the cockpit. “As soon as I’m fueled. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes more to transfer what I have in the bladder. All that’s left is strapping on the JATOs. If we do that now, we could rocket in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t know if we can hold them off that long.”

Gould pointed to the tanklike vehicle. “You guys aren’t doing so bad from here. Is that thing on our side?”

Krandel looked surprised. “The runway clearer? Sure. You flyboys launched it from Vandenberg, along with the bio-package and sleepy-gas capsule. Washington just turned control over to us. We’ve got it on auto to shoot anything except for what’s in our area. I wish we could have had it earlier. It would have made life much easier for us, but that’s another story.”

Gould stared out the cockpit window. “What’s it shooting?”

“Everything from railguns to lasers. Good as that thing is out there, I’m still not sure we can hold out another twenty minutes. The sooner we can get out of here, the better chance we have for surviving.”

“It still looks like your runway clearer is doing its job.”

Krandel came back impatiently. “Look, Major, it can’t keep everything out of our hair. Sooner or later the Do’brainese will figure a way to lob something past it. Is there any way we can get out of here sooner than twenty minutes?”

Gould chewed his lip. “Well, we might be able to save a few minutes if we started loading everyone now, rather than waiting for the bladder to empty.”

“What would that gain us?”

“About five minutes, but it’s against regs to have anyone in the TAV while it’s refueling.” Gould cracked a grin.

Krandel nodded, not smiling. “I don’t think that another broken reg will hurt us. All right, then, let’s get everyone on board. Once you’re refueled, we’ll rocket out of here.”

“Right.” Glancing around the cockpit, he sighed. “And to think I gave up flying one of these babies for TAVs. Except there’s no challenge flying one of these: compared to the TAV, they practically fly themselves. Otherwise, I would probably be doing the DFW-Honolulu route now.”

“And not having half the fun.”

Gould grinned wryly. “You said it, Colonel.” Only then did he notice the two nude prisoners tied together with their backs to each other. They sat on the deck, out of sight of the front of the cockpit. A marine private silently held a rifle on them. “Who’re the prisoners?”

“I think the short one is the one who masterminded this whole debacle. Right now he’s our insurance for staying alive.”

Gould grunted and started to leave but stopped when a thought came to him. “Can you control that runway clearer from the air?”

“Sure. We were planning on having it cover us on the way out. Why?”

“I’d want that thing to cover our front as well. I don’t want to meet any surprises on the runway when we’re taking off.”

“Good idea. We’ll work on it. Now get that TAV refueled and the JATO units on.”

“Right.” Gould exited the craft.

He made the short run to the TAV without trouble as the gunfire abated. Gathering the marines who’d turned the TAV around, he instructed them on how to strap on the JATO units.

Do’brai airport: Near the ALH 787

When the dormant tank started firing, Hujr had swung his rifle around. At fifty meters, he could clearly see the hatch and would have an excellent shot at Kamil.

The tank was spraying its destruction, keeping the militia well away from the Americans. This would be Hujr’s last chance, and if he could do it without drawing the tank’s attention to him, he just might be able to make it out alive.

Hujr didn’t wonder how the tank worked, why it awoke when it did, or even what type of weapons it possessed. He was used to accepting things as they were, and since the tank obviously was directed against the Do’brainese, he respected the fact that he would not be shown any favoritism. So he waited—he was used to it now—and with every second he waited, his determination grew.

Do’brai airport: ALH 787

“Major Gould said he’s ready for us, sir.”

“Right. Let’s get ready to make the transfer.” Krandel pushed up from the seat and rubbed his aching leg. With any luck they’d be out of this nightmare in ten minutes and he would not have to worry about the pain anymore.

As the flight deck emptied of marines Krandel crouched and spoke to General Kamil, who was gagged as well as nude. Krandel said, “We’ll notify your troops as soon as we’re out of here. Let this be a warning to you: Don’t mess with us. Next time you won’t get off so easily.”

Havisad stuck his head in the cockpit. “We’re ready, Colonel.”

Krandel stood and bade General Kamil farewell. “Remember what I said, General.” Heading out the door, he met Morales, dressed in Kamil’s uniform. “We’ll do this just like we did with the general. We’ve got to make the Do’brainese think he’s still with us so they won’t try attacking the TAV. Ready?” The men nodded. “Let’s roll.”

Drawing in a breath, Krandel ignored the growing pain in his leg and shoved Morales out the hatch. They moved in the same spiraling motions as they made their way slowly to the TAV. Their weaving dance seemed to move imperceptibly faster as the men became more anxious to reach the TAV’s sanctity. Krandel felt elated. It was almost unbelievable, but they were finally getting out of there.