It was the most exhilarating twenty minutes of his life, Hal Briggs thought as he continued his run through his assigned circuit. Just one more Shahab-2 launch site, about three miles ahead, and he could head to the exfiltration point. He had destroyed about sixteen launchers and scores of other vehicles with the incredible Cybernetic Infantry Device’s weapon backpacks, and a few simply by the sheer strength and speed of the CID unit itself — and he was sure he had killed several Revolutionary Guards troops he had encountered at the launch sites or along the way by merely frightening them to death.
“Condor One, Odin,” Colonel Kai Raydon aboard Armstrong Space Station called via the secure satellite link.
“Go ahead, Odin,” Hal replied.
“You look like you’re having more fun than a human should be allowed to have, son.”
“I shoulda got me one of these things years ago!” Hal exclaimed happily.
“Well, I got a present for you, One, so don’t waste all your ammo or power — I think we found the laser.”
“Great! Load me up and I’m on it.” Seconds later Hal studied the route to the new target. It was at a military airfield about twenty miles east of the Strongbox, twenty miles northeast of Hamadan, just west of the town of Kabudar Ahang. It was a very large complex, with two three-mile-long parallel runways and one two-mile-long runway roughly perpendicular to the first. Satellite images showed a “Christmas tree” alert parking area on the north side with hangars for eight fighters; a large weapon storage area on the northeast side; and the main part of the base on the east side, with barracks and housing for several thousand personnel and ramp space for about a hundred aircraft.
“Check out the big revetment on the southwest side, One,” Raydon said. On the southwest side of the base midway along the southernmost parallel runway was a large aircraft parking area surrounded by twenty-foot-high earth and sand walls. “They made a mistake and operated the radar just as one of our recon satellites crossed overhead and got a direct bearing on it — the radar is sitting in the parking lot near that building southwest of the revetments. We got some excellent pics of the vehicles in the revetment, and I think it’s the laser. Looks like they made the sucker road-mobile. Genesis, are you looking at these pics?”
“Affirmative,” Patrick McLanahan responded from the White House Situation Room. “I’m downloading the pics to a higher-res monitor so I can zoom in and study it closer. But you could be on to something, Odin. If they made the Kavaznya laser mobile, they could set it up anywhere on earth and threaten any aircraft and any satellite with it, and it’d be impossible to locate. But I’m also concerned about them ‘mistakenly’ turning on the radar — that could be a trick to lure us into a trap.”
“We’ll be in position in about ninety minutes to get a moderate oblique ISAR shot of it,” Raydon said. “In three hours I can get a perfect overhead shot. The NIRTSats are good, but we need better resolution to be sure.”
“We’re not going to wait three hours, guys — I can be there in forty minutes or less,” Hal said. “Condor Two, if you’re up for it, I want you to finish up my circuit. Just one target left.”
“Roger, One,” Brakeman acknowledged. “I’m switching my circuit to Condor One’s…got it, I’m on the way.”
“One, this is Three, wait up,” Charlie Turlock radioed. “I’ll cover you. I’ve got one more launch site to go and then I’ll rendezvous with you. Two and Four can finish their circuits, get picked up at Foxtrot, and then meet us at point Mike for exfil.”
“Three, I’ll be heading toward the airfield, but I’m not going to wait up,” Briggs said. “I’ve got one partial and one full backpack and battery pack. Looks like the whole south side of the airfield is wide open space. I’m going in.”
“It smells like a trap to me, guys,” Patrick McLanahan said. “I see all kinds of buildings, gullies, and revetments south of the perimeter fence — they can hide an entire armored battalion in there. Remember the Russians have been helping the Iranians the whole time — we might as well be fighting the Holocaust all over again in Iran.”
“Condor One, this is Stud One-Three,” Hunter Noble radioed. “I’m beginning deorbit procedures and I’ll be on the ground in fifteen minutes. I’ll be rearmed and airborne again in less than an hour, and thirty minutes after that I’ll place a spread of SPAWs on that spot. You don’t need to risk it — I’ll take it out for you.”
“Negative, One-One,” Hal said. “I can be there and out by the time you launch. I’ve been kicking Iranian ass all morning — I’ll take out this laser site for breakfast and join you back at the Lake for a steak dinner celebration tonight.”
“Condor One, don’t be a hero,” Boomer radioed. “I can take it. Assemble your troops and get the hell out of there.”
“Hey, stud, mind your manners,” Hal said. As soon as he saw Brakeman on his electronic tactical display heading for the last Shahab launch site, he started running toward the Hamadan military airfield. “I’m taking out that laser emplacement. If I miss or didn’t get it all, you can clean it up for me — but I’m not gonna miss. Worry about that last Shahab-5 site you missed instead. Deal? Condor One out.”
It took less than thirty minutes for Hal Briggs to reach Hamadan Air Base. The entire south side of the base was alfalfa fields and olive and date orchards, with a few rocky hills scattered about — Hal could see the base’s perimeter fence from five miles away. The scanners aboard the Cybernetic Infantry Device robot detected all of the outbuildings, irrigation pipes and pumphouses, guard shacks, the perimeter fence, the mobile radar vehicle, and the large building next to the revetment where the mobile laser was placed. Hal was able to compare the latest NIRTSat imagery with his telescopic view of the actual area and was able to correlate everything. “I’ve got a good eyeball on the objective area,” Hal radioed. “I can’t see the laser yet, but I see the radar and the few troops they have guarding the place. Piece of cake, guys. Are you guys getting all this?”
“We’re getting it, One,” Patrick responded. The sensor data from Hal Briggs’s CID unit was being uplinked to the Air Battle Force’s network and to Silver Tower, so it could be shared by virtually the entire American military. “I can see a few patrols nearby, and those buildings look like they can hold several platoons and armored vehicles. The other Condor units have completed their circuits and are awaiting pickup at Foxtrot. Hold off for twenty minutes and they can join you to assault the area together.”
“In twenty minutes I can polish off these turkeys and be at point Mike by the time you guys arrive,” Hal said. “I’m going in. Meet me at Mike. Condor One, moving out.” He took one last scan of the area, made sure his grenade launchers were chambered and ready to fire, and dashed off.
Hal hit thirty miles an hour across the fields and orchards, and within a minute he was within sight of the perimeter fence. His sensors picked up movement to his right — a Russian-made BMD light infantry support vehicle, firing its puny 7.62-millimeter coaxial machine guns at him. Hal fired one high-explosive round and silenced it quickly and cleanly…
…and he immediately detected and struck two more BMD vehicles to his left, with one 70-millimeter tank round missing him by several yards and an AT-3 anti-tank missile whizzing just a few yards away from his head. He picked up speed, reaching almost fifty miles an hour now. The BMDs and their weapons seemed as if they were standing still. He hit another BMD even before the aged Soviet-era light tank could get a shot off at him.