Ralph Peters (22 page)

"
They're desperate,
"
the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said.
"
But I still don't think we should trust them too far. Once they get back on their feet, they'll be back
at our throats.
"

"
If
they get back on their feet,
"
the secretary of state said
"
They've been struggling to do just that for over a generation. You're talking about a broken, ruined country, hanging on for dear life.
"

"
Between nations,
"
the national security adviser said,
"
trust is merely a matter of shared interests. If the Soviets are currently behaving toward us in a trustworthy manner, then it's because it's to their advantage to do so. When such conduct ceases to be advantageous, I can assure you that it will stop.
"
The national security adviser rarely spoke, but when he did it was in a sharp, lucid, tutorial voice. He was the architect behind the President's foreign policy views, and Waters had come to depend on him to an uncomfortable extent.
"
Today, the United States shares the Soviet Union's interest in keeping the Japanese out of Siberia. Tomorrow, the Soviets may begin asking themselves why they allowed us
into
Siberia. For I remind you, gentlemen, that our assistance to the Soviet state is not intended to preserve that state for its own sake, but, rather, to maintain a regional balance of power. And ... we are not there to help the Soviets achieve victory, but to prevent a Soviet defeat. The opening of Siberia to the world economy is inevitable. We just have to ensure that the United States has equal, or, ideally, preferred access to Siberian resources, and that the Japanese access is on the restrictive, disadvantageous terms possible. We need to remain honest with ourselves, to keep our goals clear. Our fundamental purpose is not to aid the Soviets, but to deny the Japanese.
"

"
The little buggers still ought to be grateful, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs said.

"
Mr. President, if I may . . .
"
Bouquette said.

"
Go ahead, Cliff.
"

"
There
is
one area of concern with the Soviets, one
matter—and we're not sure of its relative importance—in which they don't appear to be telling us everything they know. Now, this is all rather nebulous ... but we've picked up a reference in high-level Soviet military traffic to something called a Scrambler. Now, in the context of the message, it appeared that this Scrambler was some kind of Japanese operation or system. At any rate, the Soviets seemed very, very worried about it.
"

"
Why don't we just ask them what the hell it is?
"
the chairman of the Joint Chiefs asked.

Bouquette spread his hands out at waist level, as though holding an invisible beachball.
"
If we did, we'd have to tell them we were reading their communications on the most secure system they've got. We can't afford to do that. For a number of reasons. As you all realize.
"

"
Well,
"
the chairman continued,
"
with the only fully modernized outfit in the United States Army about to enter combat, I'd like to know exactly what we might be getting into.
"

"
Oh, I think we're all right. At least for the present,
"
Bouquette went on.
"
I want to show you the text of an intercept we took off the Japanese earlier today. Intriguing coincidence. They were having trouble with their system, and we got some good take. By dumb luck. They didn't realize how badly the signal was bleeding, and with computer enhancement and advanced decryption, we got about an hour and a half's worth of traffic.
"
Bouquette looked confidently about the room, setting the rhythm at last.
"
Now, this was General Noburu Kabata's private line back to Tokyo. You all recall that General Kabata is the senior Japanese officer on the ground out there. His command post is in Baku. Supposedly, of course, he's just a contract employee working for the Islamic Union. But that's merely a nicety. In fact, Kabata is running the whole show. Well, we found out that he's not entirely pleased with his Arab and Iranian charges—to say nothing of the rebel forces in Soviet Central Asia. But, then, you know the Japanese. They hate disorder. And Kabata's got a disorderly crew on his hands. But look at this...
"
He pointed to the nearest monitor. A bright yellow text showed on a black background:

TokGenSta/ExtDiv: Tokuru wants to know what you've decided on the other matter.

JaCom/CentAs: I have no need of it at present Everything is going well, and, in my personal opinion, the Scrambler is needlessly provocative.

TokGenSta/ExtDiv: But Tokuru wants to be certain that the Scrambler is ready. Should it be needed.

JaCom/CentAs: Of course, it's ready. But we will not need it

"
Now, gentlemen,
"
Bouquette said,
"
the first station is the voice of the Japanese General Staff's External Division in Tokyo. The respondent from the Japanese Command in Central Asia—something of a misnomer, since the actual location is Baku, on the western shore of the Caspian Sea—is none other than General Kabata himself.
"

"
That's all well and good, Cliff,
"
the secretary of defense said,
"
but what does it tell us? That's raw intelligence, not finished product.
"

Bouquette shrugged.
"
Unfortunately, it's all we've got. Of course, we've made this Scrambler a top collection priority. But, at least this intercept seems to indicate that whatever it is, it's not an immediate concern.
"

President Waters was not convinced. Here was yet another unexpected element in a situation the complexity of which he already found unnerving. He looked to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs for reassurance yet again. The chairman had a tough old-soldier quality that had acquired new appeal for Waters as of late. But the chairman was already speaking.

"
Now, goddamnit, you intel guys had better find out just what's going on over there. We can't play guessing games when the nation's premier military formation is about to go into battle. You assured us that, and I quote, 'We have the most complete picture of the battlefield of any army in history.'
"
The chairman tapped his pen on the tabletop.

"
And we do,
"
Bouquette said.
"
This is only one single element. When the Seventh Cavalry enters combat, their on-board computers will even know how much fuel the enemy has in his tanks—
"

"
Mr. President?
"
the communications officer spoke up from the bank of consoles at the back of the room.
"
I've got Colonel Taylor, the Seventh Cavalry commander, coming in. He's back from his meeting with the Soviets. You said you wanted to talk to him when he returned, sir.
"

Taylor? Oh, yes, President Waters remembered, the colonel with the Halloween face. He had forgotten exactly what it was he wanted to talk to the man about. More reassurances. Are you ready? Really? You aren't going to let me down, are you? Waters could not explain it in so many words, but, in their brief exchanges, he had found this fright-mask colonel, with his blunt answers, far more reassuring than any of the Bouquettes of the world.

"
Mr. President,
"
the chairman of the Joint Chiefs said, leaning confidentially toward him, as though Taylor's face had already appeared on the monitors, as though the distant man were already listening in,
"
I don't think we should mention this Scrambler business to Colonel Taylor. Until we have a little more information. He's got enough on his mind.
"

President Waters spent the moment in which he should have been thinking in a state of blankness. Then he nodded his assent. Surely, the generals of the world knew what was best for the colonels of the world.

"
All right,
"
he said.
"
Put Colonel Taylor through.
"

Taylor did not want to talk to the President. Nor did he want to speak to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as much as he liked the old man. He did not want any communications now with anyone who might interfere with the operations plan that was rapidly being developed into an operations order for the commitment of his regiment. Besides, he was very tired. He had not yet taken his
"
wide-awakes,
"
the pills that would keep a man alert and capable of fighting without sleep for up to five days without permanently damaging his health. He had hoped to steal a few hours of sleep before popping his pills, so that he would be in the best possible condition and have
the longest possible stretch of combat capability in front of him. Now he sat wearily in the communications bubble in the bowels of an old Soviet warehouse, waiting.

Just let me fight, damnit, Taylor thought. There's nothing more to be done.

Sleep was out of the question now. By the time this nonsense was finished, it would be time to start the final command and staff meeting with the officers and key NCOs of the regiment. Then there would be countless last-minute things to do before the first M-100 lifted off.

"
Colonel Taylor,
"
he heard the voice in his earpiece.
"
I'm about to put you through to the President.
"

The central monitor in the communications panel fuzzed, then a superbly clear picture filled the screen. The President of the United States, looking slightly disheveled, elbows on a massive table.

The poor bastard looks tired, Taylor thought. Then he tried to perk himself up. His past exchanges with the President had taught him to be prepared for the most unexpected questions, and it was difficult not to be impatient with the President's
naiveté
. For Christ's sake, Taylor told himself, the man's the President of the United States. Don't forget it.

"
Good morning, Mr. President.
"

For a moment, the President looked confused. Then he brightened and said,
"
Good evening, Colonel Taylor. I almost forgot our time difference. How is everything?
"

"
Fine, Mr. President.
"

"
Everything's all right with the Soviets?
"

"
As good as we have any right to expect, sir.
"

"
And your planning session? That went well, I take it?
"

"
Just fine, Mr. President.
"

"
And you've got a good plan, then?
"

Here it comes, Taylor thought.

"
Yes, sir. I believe we have the best possible plan under the circumstances.
"

The President paused, considering.

"
You're going to attack the enemy?
"

"
Yes, Mr. President.
"

"
And you're happy with the plan?
"

Something in the man's tone of voice, or in his weariness
of manner, suddenly painted the situation for Taylor. The President of the United States was not trying to interfere. He was simply asking for reassurance. The obviousness of it, as well as the unexpected quality, startled Taylor.

"
Mr. President, no plan is ever perfect. And every plan begins to change the moment men start to implement it. But I harbor no doubts—none—about the plan we've just hammered out with the Soviets. As the combat commander on the ground, I would not want to change one single detail.
"

Taylor heard a laugh from the other end, but the sound was disembodied. The President's face remained earnest, worn beyond laughter. Then Taylor heard the unmistakable voice of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the background.

"
Mr. President, Colonel Taylor's telling you not to fiddle around with his plan. We'll give him a lesson in manners once we get him back in-country, but for now I think we better do what he says.
"
The chairman laughed again, almost a snort.
"
I know Colonel Taylor, and he's apt to just ignore us, anyway. Isn't that right, George?
"

Thank you, Taylor thought, fully aware of the risk the chairman had just taken on his behalf, and of the cover he had provided. I owe you one.

"
Well, I'm not certain I like the thought of being ignored,
"
the President said seriously, but without malice.
"
However, I have no intention of interfering with the colonel's plan. I think I know my limitations.
"

If I live, Taylor thought, until election day, I just might vote for the poor bastard, after all.

"
Colonel Taylor,
"
the President said,
"
I'm just trying to understand what's going on. I'm
not
a soldier, and I seem to spend a great deal of time being confused by all this. For instance, these wonder machines of yours, these miracle weapons. No one has ever managed to explain to me in plain English just exactly what they're all about, how they work. Could you take the time to do that?
"
How, Taylor wondered, could you tell your president that you did not have time, that you had everything
but
time?

"
You mean the M-l00s, Mr. President?
"

"
Yes, all that gadgetry the taxpayers bought you. What's
it going to do for them?
"

Taylor took a deep breath, searching for a starting point.
"
Mr. President, the first thing you notice about the M-100 is that it's probably the
ugliest
weapons system ever built.
"
Taylor heard a background voice ordering that an illustration of the M-100 be called up.
"
The troops call it the flying frog. But, when you fly it, when you learn to fight out of it, it becomes very beautiful. It's squat, with a big belly to hold all the equipment and the fire team of dragoons—mounted infantrymen—in the back. It has tilt rotors mounted on stubby wings. It doesn't look like it could possibly get off the ground. But it
does
fly, Mr. President, and it flies very fast for a ship of its kind—or slow, when you want it to. Its electronics make it almost invisible to the enemy. He might see it with the naked eye, but our countermeasures suite—the electronics that attack his electronics and confuse him—is so versatile, so fast, and works on so many levels, that one of his systems might see nothing but empty sky, while another sees thousands of images His guided munitions will see dummy aircraft projected around the real one. But our target acquisition system— the gear we use to find
him
—has 'work-through technology Unless the Japanese have come up with a surprise, we should be able to look right through their electronic defenses.

"
You see,
"
Taylor continued, choosing his words from the professional history of a military generation,
"
we rarely fight with our own eyes anymore. It's a competition of electronics, attempting to delude each other on multiple levels, thousands of times in a single second. The Japanese taught us a lot, the hard way. But we think we've got them this time. Anyway, the revolution in the miniaturization of power components gives us a range of up to fourteen hundred nautical miles, one way, depending on our combat load. That's good for a bulky system that's really still more of a helicopter than anything else. But the best part of all is the primary weapons system itself. The Japanese surprised us with laser weaponry back in Africa. And they're still using it. But on-board lasers have more problems than were apparent back in Zaire. We didn't realize how dependent the Japanese were on recharging their systems, for instance. They were closely tethered to their support system and they could only fight short, sharp engagements. We took a different technological tack.

"
Our main weapon is a 'gun' that fires electromagnetically accelerated projectiles. Just think of them as special bullets that use electromagnetic energy instead of gunpowder. These projectiles travel very, very fast, and when they strike their target, they hit with such force that they either shatter it or, at least, shatter everything inside it by concussion. There are several kinds of projectiles—the fire-control computer selects the right type automatically. One type is solid and can penetrate virtually anything. Another has two layers, the first of which detonates against the outside, igniting anything that will burn, while the hard inner core proceeds on through any known armor. The shock wave alone kills any enemy soldiers inside a vehicle, while rendering the vehicle itself useless. A tremendous advantage is that one M-100 can locate and destroy several hundred targets on a single mission. After that, the 'gun' needs to be recalibrated back at its support base, but it's still far more versatile, lethal, and survivable than the Japanese laser gunships.
"

"
And the pilot's . . . just basically along for the ride?
"
the President said.
"
The M-100 . . . does everything automatically?
"

"
It can do a great deal automatically. But the vehicle commander—the pilot—and his copilot/gunner still make the broad decisions. And the desperate ones that a machine still cannot think through. Ideally, you go in firing fully automatic, because the computers can identify and attack multiple targets in a matter of seconds. And the computer gets intelligence input directly from national-level systems. But it's still the man who decides what to do when the chips are down. For instance, the computer never decides when to land and employ the dragoons. It's a smart horse. But, in the end, it's still a horse.
"

Despite Taylor's best efforts, the President still looked slightly baffled. Then Waters spoke:

"
Well, Colonel Taylor, while you've been filling me in, I've been watching some graphics your boss called up for me. Very impressive. Very impressive, indeed.
"
His distant eyes seemed to search very hard for Taylor's.
"
Tell me, is it really going to work? In combat?
"

"
I hope so, Mr. President.
"

"
And . . . you have enough ... of these systems?
"

Enough for what? You never had enough.

"
Mr. President, I've got what my country could give, and we're going to do the best we can with it. I'm confident that we have sufficient combat power to accomplish the mission as foreseen by our current op-plan. Besides, there's more to the regiment than just the M-l00s. First, we have fine soldiers: superb, well-trained soldiers who are ready to believe in the job you sent them to do, even if they don't fully understand it. Without them, the M-100 is just an expensive pile of nuts and bolts.
"
Taylor paused, as the mental images of countless men with whom he had served marched by—not just the soldiers of the Seventh, but faces remembered from half a dozen trials, as well as from the endless drudgery of peacetime garrisons.
"
Mr. President, I've got other equipment, as well. Magnificent electronic warfare gear... a battalion of heavy air-defense lasers to protect us while we're on the ground . . . wing-in-ground transporters that can haul my essentials in a single lift. And the Tenth Cav is giving me tremendous intelligence, electronic attack and deception support. But, in the end, it's going to come down to those soldiers down in the squadrons and troops. Are they tough enough? Are they sufficiently well-trained? Will they have the wherewithal to hold on longer than their adversaries? I think the answer is yes.
"