Rogue Forces (34 page)

Just as he hit his thrusters, a Hellfire missile fired from the Turkish Cobra gunship exploded at the spot he had just left, and Whack and Martinez were swatted out of the sky like clay pigeons hit by birdshot.

The BERP armor protected Whack from the blast, but after he landed he found all of his helmet systems dark and silent. He had no choice but to take his helmet off. Illuminated by the nearby fires of burning vehicles, he could see Martinez lying about fifty yards away, and sprinted over to him. But just as he got within twenty yards, the ground erupted with heavy-caliber shells peppering the area around the robot. The Cobra gunship had moved into cannon range and was spraying twenty millimeter shells on him. Whack knew he was next. Without power, his BERP armor wouldn’t protect him.

He looked around for someplace to hide. The nearest Iraqi machine-gun nest surrounding the XC-57 was about a hundred yards away. He hated to leave Martinez, but there was no way he could carry him, so he started running. Hell, he thought grimly, maybe running made it a
little
harder for the Cobra pilot to kill him.
He heard a machine gun open fire, and he tried doing a little dodging and weaving like he’d done as a football player at the Air Force Academy. Who knows how good those Turkish gunners are, he thought as he waited for the shells to rip into him. Maybe—

And then he heard a tremendous explosion, big enough and near enough to knock him off his feet. He turned and looked up just in time to see the Cobra gunship crash into the field just a couple dozen yards away. As the sound and feel of burning metal wafted over him, he got to his feet and ran. The heat and choking smoke made him crouch down as he ran, and he could hear and feel the missiles and ammo on the burning chopper cooking off behind him. Wouldn’t it be a bitch, he thought, to avoid getting turned into Swiss cheese by a Cobra gunship only to have the chopper’s unexpended ammo get him? Of course, that’s my luck, he thought, that’s the way I’m supposed to—

Suddenly it felt as if he had run headlong into a steel barricade. “Whoa, whoa, slow down there, Mr. Jackrabbit,” he heard the electronic voice of a CID unit say. It was Charlie, who had run over from her position to the east. “You’re clear. Take a minute. You lose your headgear?”

“I lost everything…the suit’s dead,” Whack said. “Go get Martinez.” Charlie waited a few moments, shielding Whack with her armor, until the explosions stopped on the downed Cobra, then ran off around the burning wreckage. She returned a few minutes later carrying the other CID unit. She then dragged Martinez with one hand and carried Macomber under her other arm back to the security post near the XC-57.

“Those other gunships are coming in,” Charlie said, picking up her rail gun and scanning the skies with the CID unit’s sensors. “Most are going after Jaffar’s brigade, but there’s a couple after us.” She paused for a moment, studying the electronic images of the battlefield. “I’ll draw them away,” she said, then bolted off to the east.

Whack peeked out over the sandbag bunker…and when he looked in the sky he saw the unmistakable flare of a missile motor
igniting, and he jumped to his feet and ran away from the bunker as fast as he—

He was instantly thrown off his feet, blinded, deafened, half-broiled, and pelted with supersonic pieces of debris when the missile hit just a few yards behind him. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t knocked unconscious, so all he could do was lie on the ground in pain, with his entire head feeling like a charcoal briquette. But a few seconds later, he was scooped up off the ground. “Ch-Charlie…?”

“My rail gun’s DOA,” Charlie said as she ran. “I’m getting you out of—” She suddenly stopped, turned, and crouched down, shielding Whack from a thunderous burst of cannon fire from the Cobra. “I’m going to put you down and get that thing,” she said. “He doesn’t want you, he wants—” The Cobra pilot fired again. Whack could feel the heavy-caliber shells shoving him and Charlie as if they had their backs to a hurricane. “I…I’m losing power,” she said after the last fusillade ended. “That last blast got something…a battery, I think. I don’t think I can move.” The Cobra opened fire again…

At that moment they heard an explosion behind them, the cannon fire ceased, and they heard the sounds of another helicopter crash. Neither of them moved until they heard vehicles approaching. “Charlie?”

“I can move, but it’s real slow,” she said. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.” Whack painfully wriggled out from the CID unit’s mechanical arms and looked around for the Turks. “Stay put. We’ve got company.” The vehicles were almost on them. He had no weapons, nothing he could fight with. There was nothing he could—

“Raise your hands and don’t move,” he heard a voice say…an
American
voice. Whack did as he was told. He saw the vehicle was an Avenger mobile air defense unit. An Army sergeant came up to him, wearing night-vision goggles, which he raised. “You gotta be a couple of the Scion guys, because I ain’t seen
nothin’
like you two before.”

“Macomber, and that’s Turlock,” Whack said. “I’ve got another guy back there.” The sergeant whistled and waved, and a few moments later an open-back Humvee came up. Whack helped load
Charlie up on the Humvee. As she was taken back to Nahla, he got another Humvee, went back and found Martinez, had some soldiers load him up, and took him back to base as well.

Martinez was unconscious and had several broken bones and some internal bleeding and was taken to the infirmary for emergency surgery; Charlie and Whack were checked out and were fine, with Whack suffering a number of cuts, burns, and bruises. She and Whack were taken to a guard post near the departure end of the runway, where two Humvees, a Stryker wheeled armored command post vehicle, and an Avenger unit were partially hidden by runway end light structures and the Instrument Landing System transmitter building. Standing outside the Stryker watching the battle through image-intensified binoculars were Patrick McLanahan, Hunter Noble, Jon Masters, Captain Kelvin Cotter, the air traffic management officer, and Vice President Kenneth Phoenix with his Secret Service detail.

“Glad you guys are all right,” Patrick said. He handed out water and energy bars. “That was close.”

“Why are you guys out here?” Macomber asked.

“The jamming has knocked out all our radars and most of our communications,” Cotter said. “The Triple-C is pretty much dark. I can get line-of-sight laser comms out here.”

“What’s the word, General?” Wayne asked. “How bad did we get hit?”

“The word is, it’s just about over,” Patrick said. Wayne lowered his head dejectedly…until Patrick added, “It’s almost over, and it looks like we won it.”

“No shit?”

“Between the CIDs, you, and the Wolverines, we pretty much stopped the Turks completely,” Patrick said. “The Turks weren’t expecting the Iraqis to fight so hard, and Jaffar’s guys went berserker on them. Then, when Wilhelm joined it, the Turks turned and headed north.”

“I had a feeling Wilhelm wasn’t going to just sit around while Jaffar went out there,” Whack said.

“It was four brigades against two, plus you guys and the cruise missiles, but that was enough for the Turks,” Vice President Phoenix said. “I have a feeling their hearts really weren’t in it. They came to Iraq to hunt down PKK, not fight Iraqis and Americans. Then they started fighting robots and armored soldiers firing Buzz Lightyear rail guns, and they split.”

“I hope so, sir,” Patrick said. “But I don’t trust Hirsiz one bit. He’s already been pushed over the brink by the PKK, and now we handed him a defeat. He’s likely to lash out. I don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop at bombing some suspected PKK-friendly businesses in Irbil.”

“Looks like Jaffar will be reinforcing his forward battalions and start taking his casualties back to base,” Cotter said, stepping out of the Stryker and scanning the area to the north of their position with binoculars. “Colonel Wilhelm and Major Weatherly will keep their battalions on the line in case…
yaaah
!” Cotter screamed as an impossibly bright flash of white light pierced the night sky, exactly where he was looking.

The first flash was followed by hundreds more, each one brighter than the last, and then the thunder of massive explosions and the roar of superheated air reached them. Clouds of fire rose hundreds of feet into the sky, and soon they could feel the heat wash over them like ocean waves rolling onto the beach.

“
What in hell was that
?” Phoenix cried. He and Jon Masters helped Cotter, who was flash-blinded, to the ground and poured water on his face.

“Smells like napalm, or thermobaric bombs,” Macomber said. He took Cotter’s binoculars, reset the optronic circuits so any more flashes wouldn’t blind him, too, and scanned the area. “Je…
sus
…”

“Who got hit, Wayne?” Patrick asked.

“Looks like Jaffar’s two forward battalions,” Whack said in a quiet voice. “God, that must be what hell looks like down there.” He scanned the area around the blast zone. “I don’t see our guys. I’ll try to get in contact with Wilhelm and—”

Just then there were two huge bright flashes, followed moments later by two massive explosions…this time,
behind
them, inside the
base. The chest-crushing concussions threw everyone to the ground, and they crawled for any bit of safety they could find. Two massive fiery mushroom clouds rose into the sky. “
Get under cover!”
Patrick screamed over the hurricane-like chaos as clouds of smoke rolled over them. “
Get under the Stryker
!” The Secret Service agents pulled Phoenix into his Humvee, and everyone else crawled under the Stryker just as they were pelted by massive chunks of falling debris.

It took a long time for the deadly debris to stop falling, longer before anyone could breathe well enough through the choking clouds of dust and smoke, and longer still before anyone found the courage to get up and survey the area. There was a massive fire somewhere in the center of the base.

“That’s
twice
I’ve been too close to a bomb attack!” Jon Masters shouted. “Don’t tell me—Turkish bombers again, right?”

“That would be my guess,” Patrick said. “What got hit over there?”

One of the Stryker crewmembers got out of his vehicle, and when everyone else saw his eyes widen and his jaw drop, a chill of dread ran up their spines. “Holy shit,” he breathed, “I think they just nailed the Triple-C.”

T
HE
P
INK
P
ALACE
, Ç
ANCAYA
, A
NKARA
, R
EPUBLIC OF
T
URKEY

A
SHORT TIME LATER

“What do you mean, they
retreated
?” President Kurzat Hirsiz asked. “Why did they retreat? They outnumbered the Iraqis five to one!”

“I know that, Mr. President, I know,” Minister of Defense Hasan Cizek said. “But they weren’t just fighting Iraqis. The American army helped them.”

“God…so we were fighting Americans, too,” Hirsiz said. He shook his head. “It was bad enough we decided to draw the Iraqis into a fight; I never expected the Americans to respond, too.”

“As well as two of those American robots and one of those armored commandos…the Tin Man soldiers,” Cizek added. “They also had two cruise missiles that attacked with bomblets and antipersonnel mines.”

“
What
?” Hirsiz exploded. “How badly did we get hit?”

“Very badly, sir,” Cizek said. “Possibly twenty percent or more.”

“Twenty percent…
in one battle
?” a voice shouted. It was Prime Minister Ays¸e Akas. She had not been seen in public since the declaration of a state of emergency and the disbanding of the National Assembly, but had been meeting with lawmakers most of the time. “Mr. President, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I did not summon you here, Prime Minister,” Hirsiz said. “Besides, we did much worse to the Iraqis. What do you want? To turn in your resignation, I hope.”

“Kurzat, please, stop this insanity now before this turns into full-scale war with Iraq and the United States,” Akas pleaded. “End it. Declare victory and bring the troops home.”

“Not before the PKK is wiped out, Ays¸e,” Hirsiz said.

“Then what are you doing attacking Tall Kayf?” Akas asked. “There are few PKK in that area.”

“There is a situation at that air base that needed to be resolved,” Hirsiz said.

“I know about the American spy plane—you still allow me to watch television, although you’ve taken away my telephone and passport and keep me under twenty-four/seven guard,” Akas said. “But why would you waste Turkish lives for a hunk of burned metal?” She looked at Cizek. “Or are the generals in charge now?”

“I am still in charge here, Prime Minister, you can be assured of this,” Hirsiz said.

“So you gave the order to bomb Irbil?”

“What is it you want, Prime Minister?” Hirsiz asked irritably, finding a cigarette.

“I think you should allow me to meet with Vice President Phoenix, in Irbil or Baghdad.”

“I told you, no,” Hirsiz said. “In a state of emergency the president must decide all actions, and I don’t have time to meet with Phoenix or anyone else until the crisis is resolved. Besides, Phoenix is still at Nahla, and it’s far too dangerous for him to travel.”

“I won’t go as an opponent of the war, but as the prime minister of Turkey, who, as you said, has little power in time of war, with the National Assembly disbanded and a council of war replacing the cabinet,” Akas said. She stopped and blinked in disbelief. “You said Phoenix is still at Nahla? He’s at Nahla Air Base? Isn’t that where the fighting is, where all those men perished?” She saw Hirsiz and Cizek exchange glances. “Is there something else? What?”

Hirsiz hesitated to tell her, then shrugged and nodded to Cizek. “It’s going to be in the news soon anyway.”

“We bombed Nahla Air Base,” Cizek said. Akas’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “We targeted the headquarters building of the Iraqi and American forces.”

“
You what
?
Bombed their headquarters
?” Akas shouted. “You
are
insane, both of you. Is Phoenix dead?”

“No, he was not in the building at the time,” Hirsiz said.

“Lucky for
you
!”

“I did not start shooting at Iraqis and Americans until
they
started
shooting at Turks!” Hirsiz shouted. “I did not start this war! The PKK murders innocent men, women, and children, and no one says a word to us. Well, they will talk to us now, won’t they? They will scream and complain and threaten me!
I don’t care
! I am not going to stop until Iraq stops harboring the PKK and promises to help eradicate them. Maybe with a few dead Americans in Iraq by our hands, they will talk to us about destroying the PKK.”

Akas looked at Hirsiz as if studying an oil painting or an animal in the zoo, trying to find some hidden understanding or meaning in what she saw. All she could discern was hatred. He didn’t even look back at her. “How many Americans were killed in the base, Minister?”

“Twenty or twenty-five, I don’t remember; about a hundred injured,” Cizek replied.

“My God…”

“Ays¸e, maybe it is a good idea for you to meet with Phoenix and talk with Gardner,” Cizek said. Hirsiz turned, his eyes wide with surprise and his jaw set in anger. Cizek held up a hand. “Kurzat, I’m afraid the Americans will retaliate—maybe not militarily, not right away, but with every other means at their disposal. If we don’t start negotiating with them, they’re more likely to hit back. Call a cease-fire, have our forces hold in position, and let Ays¸e go to Baghdad. Meanwhile we’ll resupply our forces, bring back our wounded and dead, and start collecting intelligence on the whereabouts of the PKK and their supporters. We have to be sure we don’t lose support from our allies, but we don’t have to give up everything we’ve gained.”

Hirsiz’s expression was a mixture of rage and confusion, and his head snapped back at his two advisers as if it were out of control. “End? End now? Are we any closer to destroying the PKK than we were five thousand lives ago? If we don’t follow through with this, the five thousand soldiers who have lost their lives will have died for nothing.”

“I think we have shown the world our crisis, Kurzat,” Akas said. “You have also shown the world, and especially the PKK and their
Kurdish supporters, that Turkey can and will lash out to protect its people and interests. But if you let the situation spin out of control, the world will simply think you’re insane. You don’t want that to happen.”

Hirsiz studied both of his advisers. Akas could see the president looking more and more alone by the second. He returned to his desk and sat down heavily, staring through the large picture window. The sun was just coming up, and it looked like it was going to be a cold, drizzly day, Akas thought, which certainly must make Hirsiz feel even more alone.

“All I tried to do was protect the Turkish people,” he said softly. “All I wanted to do was stop the murdering.”

“We will, Kurzat,” Akas said. “We’ll do it together—your cabinet, the military, the Americans, and the Iraqis. We’ll get everyone involved. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Hirsiz closed his eyes, then nodded. “Call an immediate cease-fire, Hasan,” he said. “We have the phased withdrawal plan already drawn up: execute phases one and two.”

The minister of national defense’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Phase two?” he asked. “But, sir, that pulls troops all the way back to the border. Are you sure you want to pull back that much? I recommend we—”

“Ays¸e, you may notify the foreign minister that we wish to meet with the Americans and Iraqis right away to negotiate international inspectors and peacekeepers to monitor the border,” Hirsiz went on. “You may also notify the speaker of the National Assembly that, pending a peaceful and successful withdrawal from Iraq, I will cancel the state of emergency and reseat the parliament.”

Ays¸e Akas walked over to Hirsiz and hugged him. “You’ve made the right choice, Kurzat,” she said. “I’ll get to work right away.” She gave Cizek a smile and hurried out of the president’s office.

Hirsiz stood by his desk and looked out the window for a long moment; then he turned and was surprised to see his minister of national defense still in his office. “Hasan?”

“What are you doing, Kurzat?” Cizek asked. “A cease-fire: fine.

That will give us time to rearm, reinforce, and regroup. But a pullback all the way to the border, before we’ve had a chance to set up a buffer zone and eradicate the PKK?”

“I’m tired, Hasan,” Hirsiz said wearily. “We’ve lost too many men…”

“The soldiers died defending their country, Mr. President!” Cizek said. “If you pull back before the operation is finished, they will have died for nothing! You said so yourself!”

“We will have other opportunities, Hasan. We have the world’s attention now. They’ll know we’re serious when it comes to dealing with the PKK. Now give the orders.”

Cizek appeared as if he was going to continue to argue, but instead gave a curt nod and walked out.