Danny got on the radio. “We’re taking fire,” he told the Marine captain. “Where are those jets?”
“They’ll be there in a few minutes. They’re going after the mortars first,” said Thomas. “We have the mortars zeroed in for them.”
“We’re pinned down here,” said Danny. “Looks like they have machine guns mounted on the pickups.”
“Copy that. The planes will be ASAP.”
ASAP wasn’t going to do it. A fresh volley of fifty-caliber machine-gun bullets sent Danny prone. The Malaysians began returning fire, but that only intensified the attack. Another set of mortar shells fell behind them, these closer.
Captain Deris came over to Danny. The battle had changed dramatically in the last few moments; the Malaysians not only were no longer on the attack, they were now cut off from any reasonable defensive position.
“I have men down,” Deris told him. “We are going to be overrun.”
“The planes are coming,” said Danny. “The mortars are hitting above the hill. You can’t go up there. You’ll be cut down.”
“We will have to move,” said Deris. “At least if we take our chances through the shells, some will make it. Here, all will be killed. We have only these thin trees for cover.”
“How many men do you have?”
“Ten now, and two of those are wounded.”
Mofitt rose next to him and peered through his sight.
“Bastards are coming fast,” he said, then squeezed off a three-round burst, plunking one of the rebels.
It was too late to try running for it, Danny realized. He clicked the radio to talk to the Marine ground commander. But Thomas beat him to it, transmitting before Danny could say a word.
“Colonel, stand by for a transmission from Basher Four.” The Marine captain’s voice sounded hoarse; the gunfire in the background sounded very close. “Go ahead, Basher.”
“Colonel, this is Turk. Say location.”
“We’re about twenty yards from the road, on the southwest side directly below the Malaysian camp. There are two—”
“Yeah, roger, I got you. Hold your position. I’m taking the trucks out. I’ll check in before the next pass.”
“Everybody get down!” shouted Danny. “Down!”
The bombs came off the wings in quick succession, like the snap of a drummer’s wrist as he rolled on his snare. Turk banked, lining up to take a run with the cannon strapped to the F-5’s belly. The lead vehicle was on fire and the other had been broken in half by one of the bombs. He lit the cannon as his targeting pipper came up on a small pack of figures behind the second truck. They disappeared in a tornado of smoke.
Pulling back on the stick, Turk had a fleeting vision of what it would be like on the ground — chaos and death, the stink of burning metal and flesh in your nostrils.
It was truly hell. But you fought for your own, and you protected them, and that meant the other guy had to die.
The other guy. Which was why he was so mad at Breanna. She should have protected him, not sent an assassin.
“Basher Four to ground — Colonel, how are you looking?”
“Nice job, Four.”
“Do you need more? My gun’s full.”
“We have it under control. Trucks are on fire. Rebels are retreating. I owe you one,” added Danny. “Thanks.”
“Roger that. See you back at base.”
2
Zen wheeled himself out from behind his desk in his Senate office, revving himself into full-blown senator-at-work mode. There was a lot to do in the next few hours, starting with a vote in the chamber.
“OK, people,” he said, zipping into the outer office. “I’m off. See you all around three.”
“Senator?” His appointments secretary stood up from her desk, waving frantically to get his attention as he passed. “I have the President’s office on the line.”
“Tell ’em I just left for a vote,” he said, not bothering to stop.
“The President wants to set up a lunch. Today.”
Zen stopped at the door. President Todd didn’t call often, let alone ask to have lunch. When she did, it was usually trouble — for him.
But Breanna’s recounting of Todd’s comment the other night made him wonder what she was really up to. If he wanted to find out, lunch was the price he’d have to pay.
Maybe.
“I can’t do lunch,” he said, fudging, since his appointment could be easily put off. “But if she wants to see me at some point after three, that’s OK. Schedule it and text me.”
Zen saw Fran Knapp, his recently hired political aide, giving him a wary eye — blowing the President off for lunch was not considered a good political move.
Zen smiled at her, and kept smiling all the way to the Senate.
3
“The attack on the base had to have been helped by whoever is handling the UAVs,” said Danny, speaking to Breanna and Jonathon Reid a few hours after the attack had ended. “They’re trying to get rid of us.”
“It could easily be a coincidence,” said Reid. “There were no UAVs.”
“They had precise locations.”
“That airstrip dates to the 1950s,” answered Reid. “You have to be mindful of the politics here, Colonel. Both domestically and in geopolitical terms.”
“If they’re going to be this aggressive, we need to step up our force,” said Danny. “Or the Marines are going to take casualties. That’s going to be a disaster.”
“I think Danny has a point,” said Breanna. “We should have a full force there.”
“You know the problems with that,” said Reid.
“How about more observation assets, for starters?” said Danny.
“Even that will require the President’s approval,” said Reid. “And I don’t know that she’s going to give it.”
“We might as well ask for everything we want,” said Breanna.
“I’m not arguing with that,” answered Danny.
Three Malaysians had been killed and four wounded in the attack; the wounded had been medevacked via a Marine Osprey to the eastern Malaysian capital. Two Marines had been hit by shrapnel; both were taken back to the MEU’s flagship, offshore on the eastern side of the island several hundred miles away. The MEU was supporting Malaysian operations there.
“We still don’t know where the UAV came from,” said Reid.
“But we do know that it flies like one of ours,” said Danny. “And to me, that’s a bigger problem than whatever politics we’re worried about.”
“We’re well aware of the implications, Colonel.”
“All right,” said Danny.
“We’ve moved Team Two to Hawaii,” said Breanna. “So if the President does green-light us, they’ll be ready quickly. Sergeant Rockland is there with them. We have the Tigershark and four Sabres ready as well.”
“Right.”
“I’m not arguing with you,” put in Reid. “I’m just telling you what the situation is.”
They talked a while more about contingencies and different plans, but Danny couldn’t wait for the conversation to end. He was tired and beginning to feel frustrated, the inevitable result when politics or admin bs got in the way of action.
Greenstreet put his face barely two inches from Turk’s. “You still haven’t explained who said you could bomb those trucks.”
“I didn’t figure I needed permission to save the base,” answered Turk. He had to struggle to keep his voice level.
“I told you where to fly and what to do,” said Greenstreet. “We were coming back as soon as we took care of the mortars. We were back on target inside of five minutes.”