COLLATERAL DAMAGE
A Dreamland Thriller
Dale Brown and Jim DeFelice
Contents
Dreamland: Duty Roster
MALFUNCTION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
RUMORS OF REMORSE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
HESITATION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
PRISONER OF CONSCIENCE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
THE TINT OF SUCCESS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the Author
Praise for Dale Brown
Also in the Dreamland Series
Copyright
About the Publisher
Dreamland: Duty Roster
Setting
Libya, Sicily (Italy)
Key Players
Americans
Breanna Stockard, director DoD Office of Special Technology (Whiplash supervisor)
Jonathon Reid, special assistant to CIA deputy director (Whiplash supervisor)
Colonel Danny Freah, commander, Whiplash
Captain Turk Mako, U.S. Air Force pilot, assigned to Office Special Technology/Whiplash
Chief Master Sergeant Ben “Boston” Rockland, senior NCO, Whiplash
Ray Rubeo, president and CEO, Applied Intelligence, key contractor to the Office of Special Technology
Colonel Ginella Ernesto, commander A–10E squadron “Shooters”
President Christine Todd
Senator Jeff “Zen” Stockard
The Rebels
Princess Idris al-Nussoi, leader of the rebel alliance
Others
Foma Mitreski, Russian chief of station, Libya and northern Africa
Neil Kharon, freelance technical operative employed by Russians
MALFUNCTION
1
Over Libya
The vision unfolding before Turk Mako’s eyes was one part natural beauty and one part high-tech phenomenon. Flying over central Libya at just under the speed of sound, he had a 360-degree view of the desert and scrubland that made up the country’s interior. He could see every detail—leaves on low bushes starting to droop from the lack of water as the season turned dry, tumbled rocks that had been placed thousands of millennia ago by tectonic displacement, the parched side of an irrigation ditch abandoned to nature.
There were other things as well—the hull of an antiaircraft gun abandoned two years before, the picked bones of a body—not human—at the edge of a paved road that seemingly ran for miles to nowhere.
That was the ground. Turk had a similarly long and clear view of the sky as well—light blue, freckled with white in the distance, black retreating above as the sun edged upward in the east.
Turk saw all these things on a visor in his helmet. Though the images looked absolutely real, what he saw was actually synthesized from six different optical cameras placed around the fuselage of his aircraft. The image was supplemented by other sensors—infrared, radar—and augmented by interpretations from the computer that helped him fly the Tigershark II. The computer could provide useful information instantly, whether it was simply identifying captions for the aircraft flying with him—four small unmanned fighter-bombers known as Sabres—or analysis of objects that could be weapons.
For Turk, an Air Force test pilot assigned to the CIA–Department of Defense Office of Special Projects, the synthesized reality portrayed in his helmet was real. It was what war looked like.
He checked his instruments—an old-school habit for the young pilot, still in his early twenties. The computer would alert him to the slightest problem in the plane, or in his escorts.
Everything was “in the green”—operating at prime spec.
The planes he was guiding were two minutes from the start of their bombing run. Turk gestured with his hand, and instantly had a visual of the target.
“Zoom,” he told the computer.
As the screen began to change, a warning blared in his ears.
“Four aircraft, taking off from government airfield marked as A–3,” declared the computer. “Located at Ghat.”
Turk’s first thought was that it was a false alarm. He’d been flying the Tigershark and its accompanying Sabre unmanned attack planes over Libya for more than a week. Never in that time had he even gotten any indications of ground radar, let alone airplanes being scrambled. The alliance helping the rebel forces had established a strict no-fly zone in the northern portion of the country, and a challenge area in the rest of the country. The Libyan government air force had responded by keeping its planes on the ground practically everywhere, fearing they would be shot down.
When he realized it wasn’t a mistake, Turk’s next thought was that the planes weren’t coming for him—the Tigershark and the four UAVs she was guiding were relatively stealthy aircraft, difficult to detect even with the most modern radar. The Libyan government, which had inherited most of its equipment from Muammar Gaddafi’s regime, mostly relied on gear two decades old.
But the long-range scan in his helmet visor showed that the four Mirages taking off from the airfield were in fact headed in his direction.
All presumed hostile, declared the computer. It had automatically queried the planes’ friend or foe ID system and failed to find friendly matches. But even if that information hadn’t been available, it didn’t take much silicon to guess whose side they were on.