Target Utopia (29 page)

The Cube

B
REANNA GOT UP
from the console as soon as the call with Danny was finished. She needed to take a long walk, but there wasn't time for that. There wasn't time for anything.

She settled for the kitchenette suite across from the lower conference room. It was a poor substitute.

“You must be floating in that stuff,” said Jonathon
Reid, entering the room as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.

“Almost.” She took a sip; it was hot, but a little bitter.

“Our call to the President is in five minutes,” said Reid.

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take it myself?”

Breanna shook her head. “No.”

“This wouldn't have happened if she had agreed to our original plan,” said Reid. “If it had been a full Whiplash mission from the very start.”

“I don't know about that.”

If the conspiracy had been out to get the UAVs from the very beginning, the results would have been the same, Breanna realized.

Except for the Chinese, maybe. Though even there, there was no way to tell.

“You're blaming yourself,” said Reid. “That's foolish. You're not to blame.”

“No, but I'm responsible,” said Breanna. “The buck stops here.”

“And here,” said Reid. “Should we take the call in the conference room or your office?”

“Conference room. Change of pace.” She smiled weakly.

A tone announced that a communication from Air Force One was incoming. Reid took his seat and directed the computer to open the line. Breanna closed her eyes while the encryption synchronized, readying herself.

“Breanna, Jonathon, I understand the Chinese ship is no longer on fire,” said the President as
soon as the line was established. Her face loomed in the large holographic screen at the front of the room. “We measure that as progress, I assume.”

Reid started to answer, but the President cut him off.

“I also hear that we've lost two Sabres,” said Todd, clearly in a bad mood. “What's the explanation?”

“The conspiracy appears to have taken over the controls via a transmission that mimicked one of the original command overrides,” said Breanna. She spoke quickly, not because she was nervous or wanted to get it over with, but because she felt it would be better if she was the one who told the President rather than Reid. The military aspects of the operation were hers, not his. And of course there was the Dreamland connection. “It was a vulnerability we hadn't anticipated. It affects all of the combat UAVs, not just the Sabres. I've asked the Pentagon to ground all versions of the Flighthawk until we have a solution.”

“For how long?”

“We're not sure,” admitted Breanna.

“And we're working on getting the aircraft back?” asked the President.

“We are,” said Breanna.

“What are the prospects?”

“I can't honestly say.”

“We believe we have located another of the conspiracy's bases,” said Reid, cutting in. “They're on two ships, a cargo container carrier and an oceangoing tug. We think they may have used the cargo containers to hide some of their equipment, perhaps even the minisubs they use.”

“How many bases do these people have?” asked the President, clearly exasperated.

“They have a lot of money.”

“If they were spending it on feeding the poor, we wouldn't be talking about it,” said Todd bitterly. “What are they going to do next?”

Reid shook his head. “We'll know more if we take those ships.”

“Take them.”

The President seemed to be staring directly at Breanna. She knew this wasn't true—Todd was merely looking at the camera above her screen on the plane. Still, Breanna felt as if she was on the spot.

And she deserved to be. The “leak” had turned out to be far greater than she or Reid had feared. Nothing in this operation had gone entirely as planned. Breanna knew it wasn't her fault, or Reid's—but someone had to take responsibility.

“What else?” asked the President.

“I think that's it,” said Breanna.

“It's quite enough,” snapped Todd. “Update me. Try to avoid doing any more damage to our relations with the Chinese. And stay away from the Philippines.”

“If the Chinese attack—” started Reid.

“Defend yourself, of course,” said Todd. “But try to keep them out of it, if at all possible.”

There was a pop on the line as it shut.

“I understand the Secretary of State has been talking to Beijing for the past hour,” Reid told Breanna, breaking the silence. “I would have liked to have heard the conversation. The secretary
doesn't like to be woken up in the middle of the night.”

He smiled, clearly meaning the comment to somehow cheer her up. But Breanna couldn't find anything humorous in the situation whatsoever.

“I have to go over to the big house for a breakfast meeting,” said Reid, using his new favorite expression for his office in the headquarters building across the campus. “I'll try to get back for the operation. If there are any delays or other complications—”

“I'll let you know.”

“We'll get through this,” added Reid. “Always darkest before the dawn.”

“I'm sure you're right,” she managed.

A
LONE IN THE
elevator to the surface, Reid thought about Breanna and the conversation they had just had. She was taking the matter far too hard, blaming herself, and Whiplash, for things that neither had any control over. The seeds of the conspiracy had clearly been planted years before. The vulnerability in the UAVs was extremely serious, but surely a solution would be found.

Breanna was working herself too hard. He couldn't remember when she'd had a vacation. While the same could be said about him, he didn't have a child or a spouse to take care of.

When the crisis passed, he decided, he would urge her to take some time off. It was only right.

Malaysia

N
EEDING TO MOVE
quickly, Danny decided to fly down with Turk to the Marine base and talk about a possible strike using Captain Thomas's men. Despite the fact that they'd only returned a few hours before, the Marine commander told Danny they'd be ready to launch as soon as their Ospreys were ready to go. That would be in another two hours, shortly after dawn.

That was sooner than Danny had dared hope. While he would have preferred operating at night—and with more rest—the proximity of the Chinese took away those luxuries.

“The technical people are working on a way to counteract the Sabres and the other UAVs,” said Danny. “But we're concerned about the proximity of the Chinese carrier task force. The cargo container vessel is about two hundred miles from the carrier group. If the carrier group gets any closer, we're going to go in right away.”

The Marines had practiced taking down a cargo container vessel before the present deployment, and Danny agreed that it made sense to give them that assignment while his team took the ocean-going tugboat nearby.

With the Ospreys operating so far from land, one of the aircraft would be used to refuel the others. While that would give the teams on the ships more support, it would also limit the size of
the boarding teams by a quarter. It was a necessary trade-off.

“I'll work out the logistics and talk to you in an hour,” Danny told the captain. “If anything changes, I'll let you know immediately.”

“Good.”

“One more thing—I'm a little concerned about security at the airport now that we have our trailer there. I'm going to need all my men for the mission. There's no threat at the base, but—”

“How many people do you want?” asked the captain.

“A squad?” asked Danny. “We can augment them with our perimeter gear.”

“Absolutely. They can go back with you on your Osprey.”

“That would be ideal,” said Danny.

T
URK LISTENED AS
Cowboy went over the UAV encounter. The more he talked about the other planes, the more Turk wished he'd been there. Even if it had been a plot to steal the Sabres, he still felt he could have figured out a way to get the better of them.

The combat UAVs were the key. Turk knew from analyzing the Sabre video that they were roughly the equivalent of the latest Flighthawks, with the exception of the laser weapon. That was truly an advance, but even that had its limitations. It had to fire for several seconds to be effective; more importantly, it could only be used at short
range. There were a small number of vulnerable places on a target as well.

“Think of it as a cannon that's effective from three miles out,” suggested Turk. “Don't let it get on your tail, and don't give it a clean shot at your fuel areas, even for a second.”

“It needs three, though,” said Cowboy.

“That's what the techs say. Anything less just gives you a hot foot.”

“Best thing is to take it down as soon as you see it,” said Colonel Greenstreet.

“Can't argue with that,” said Turk.

Turk diagrammed a few of the basic maneuvers he expected the planes would favor, and the best way to deal with them. None of the tactics were revolutionary, though they did take advantage of the UAVs' proclivities as well as the flight characteristics.

“Never try and outturn them,” Turk warned. “But they don't accelerate as quickly as you'd think. And they have a lot of trouble in a two-on-one situation. The first thing they'll do is dive.”

“Why?” asked Cowboy.

“That's the way they're programmed. I think it's because they were flying with Megafortresses originally, and their role was to keep interceptors away from the mother ship. So if they were overwhelmed and couldn't come up with a strategy, the default was to move away from the Megafortress. Because the EB-52s were typically flying at a high altitude, that meant going down.”

There were other tactical reasons, but the relevant point was simply knowing what they would do. Turk
talked for a while more about tactics ranging from when to hit chaff to the need to use radar missiles at relatively close range so the UAVs had less time to duck them. By the time Danny Freah appeared at the door to summon Turk, he was talked out.

“Looks like I gotta get moving,” he told the Marines. “We'll hook up when we have the op details. Basic plan, let me deal with the biggest UAV threats, you guys watch the teams on the boats.”

“And anybody that gets past you,” said Cowboy.

“I don't think anybody's gonna get past him,” said Greenstreet.

Turk glanced at the Marine officer. It was a vote of confidence—the first one he'd gotten from him.

“Thanks,” said Turk. “But if something does, I know you guys'll nail it.”

D
ANNY NOTICED A
familiar face among the detail sent to help protect the Whiplash trailer: Corporal Mofitt.

The corporal steadfastly ignored him.

Just as well, thought Danny. Not my business.

The plan for the takedown of the two ships was as simple as it was dangerous—the Ospreys would broadcast warnings to the ships that they were to be inspected for contraband, then deposit teams via fast-rope onto their decks. If there was any resistance at all, the bridges on both ships would be raked with gunfire from the Whiplash Osprey. Continued resistance would net an attack from the Tigershark. They'd stop short of sinking the vessels—but only just.

The next few hours were a whirl of preparations. Danny studied the latest intelligence and conferred via satellite phone with Captain Thomas, who had refined the takedown plan on the cargo ship. Thomas also suggested Danny take a squad of Marines with the Whiplash team to act as reinforcements, in case something went wrong on either ship.

Takeoff was set for 0800, with H hour at 0910. They were good to go.

As Danny signed off with Thomas, there was a knock at the door to the Whiplash trailer. Boston poked his head in.

“Marine wants to see you, Colonel,” said Boston. “Says it's personal, but important.”

Danny guessed it was Mofitt. He was right: Mofitt, head down, shambled into the trailer as soon as Danny said he could come in. His manner reminded Danny of a puppy who'd peed on a rug.

“Corporal? What can I do for you?” Danny asked as Boston disappeared.

“I need another chance, sir.”

“How's that?”

“Captain Thomas thinks I'm a coward, and that's not true. I know I froze, and you saw me, and I'm not going to lie about that. But—”

Mofitt stopped abruptly, as if he'd suddenly lost the ability to talk.

“Listen, I know you went stiff,” said Danny gently. “I also know that you didn't freeze the day before when you and I went out and we came under fire. It's just one of those things. It happens. You move through it.”

Mofitt looked up, surprised. “Captain Thomas doesn't seem to think so. He said I'm an embarrassment.”

“I can't speak for your captain, son. I can tell you what I would do if I were in
your
position—I'd deal with it, and move on. I'm sure you've dealt with adversity before.”

“Yes, sir, I have.”

“See.”

“Maybe you, uh, could say something to the captain? All I want is another chance.”

“I don't think he'll listen to me.”

“Sir, he has a lot of respect for you. A lot.”

Danny nodded. He saw no point in telling the corporal that he already had talked to Thomas. “I'll give it a shot. But I can't tell him what to do.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.” Mofitt's head bobbed up and down. “All my life, I just wanted to be a Marine. I just wanted to prove myself. But—that day. I don't know. That day, that moment even. It just got to me for that one time.”

“I'm sure.”

They stood facing each other for a long, awkward moment. Finally Danny told him that he had many things to do.

“Of course,” said Mofitt. “Listen, I'm sorry. I—I really appreciate it. Thank you. Thank you. All I need is another chance.”

D
ANNY REMEMBERED
M
OFITT'S
words an hour later when the Whiplash team boarded the Osprey to start their operation. The Marine backup unit
that was supposed to ride with Whiplash had yet to arrive in their Hummers.

He went to Sergeant Hurst, the head of the security detail, and told him that he was taking him and his men as backups; the Marines en route would take their place as the security force.

Hurst didn't even try to suppress the smile on his face.

“Leave two men here to watch everything,” Danny told him. “Boston—Chief Rockland—will take care of them. I'll tell your commander I made the switch. And make sure Corporal Mofitt is aboard the Osprey.”

“Mofitt, sir?”

“Yes,” said Danny. “I think he deserves another chance.”

The sergeant narrowed his eyes, but then nodded. “Yes, sir. As you say.”