Armageddon

“Probably as a follow-on,” said Dog. “Depending on the situation. It’s volatile.”

“It is,” said Da

“We’re setting up camp at an oil platform, Jen. It’s not going to be a picnic.”

“I was in Iraq, remember?”

“We’ll bring the support team in once the situation has been assessed,” said Dog. “And an evaluation team.”

“I’ll be ready to take off in two hours,” said Je

“You won’t be needed until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest,” said Dog, pulling over the food. “Stay and have some di

Brunei

12 October 1997, (local) 0640

McKe

“Dragon One to control—you have that forward-air-controller down there yet?” she asked as she pulled off. She wanted to get a handle on the ground situation and make sure she didn’t hit any of their own people.

“We’re working on it, Dragon One.”

“Well work harder,” she snapped. She watched her wing-mate come over the palace on the side near the sea. It didn’t appear as if anyone on the ground fired at him.

“Two, I’m going to take a real slow pass back over the dome,” she said. “Hang back and see if anyone fires at me. I want to get this sorted out”

The little Cessna poked her nose down toward the ground, settling down to a brisk walk over the compound at treetop level. This time McKe

Three bodies in plainclothes lay sprawled near the building. A green British Land Rover sat near the gate on the far side of the compound. McKe

The forward-air-controller finally came on over the police frequency. It was one of the security people who had been with Mack yesterday when he rescued her from the ministry. The man had received training in directing aircraft for attack, but it still took a few exchanges for her to work out where he was and vice versa.

“I’m going to hit those vans,” she told him once it was clear the government troops were not nearby. “Tell the officer in charge there.”

“Yes, yes, he says do it.”

McKe

“Two, where was that flak coming from?”

“Tank mounted weapon,” said the other pilot.

“One of ours?”

“Looks like.”

The weapon was apparently a Brunei army vehicle that had been stolen from its base. A Panhard M3 VDA, the French-built twenty-millimeter ca

“Two, can you get that gun?” McKe

“Roger that,” said the copilot.

“I’m going to cover your butt and clean up after your pass,” she added, working the A-37B around.

IT HAD GONE BETTER THAN SAHURAH HAD DARED IMAGINE. Besar, though clearly a degenerate, had pulled off the impossible and stolen the self-propelled ca

Two jets danced overhead. Sahurah looked up from his position as one of the planes dropped its bombs on the city-side and the Panhard anti-aircraft gun began firing. He wasn’t sure what the target was; Besar had a command station in that area but from where Sahurah stood he could see nothing.

One of his squad leaders motioned from the corner of the building. Sahurah ducked his head and ran forward, sliding down as he neared the man. The headache that had haunted him yesterday was gone and he had fresh hope—perhaps he would die today and become a martyr.

“Commander, the enemy has a machine-gun inside the building,” said the squad leader.

“Bring up the rocket-propelled grenades,” said Sahurah. Another jet passed overhead. Sahurah flinched, then felt himself flush with shame at his momentary cowardice. Human, perhaps, but a failing before the eyes of God.

He grabbed the rifle from one of the men nearby and stepped but as another aircraft passed, emptying the magazine.

MCKENNA WATCHED HER WINGMAN’S BOMBS FALL ON TARGET and took her plane further east, where a fresh clump of white-pajamas ran for the wall. She pressed the trigger and the Dragonfly’s gat began spi

By the time she cleared she had flown out of the capital and was now over the lagoon-city in the bay. She regrouped with her wingman, who sounded as if he were hyperventilating after his successful bomb run.

The situation in the palace was growing desperate. Several hundred guerillas had attacked the compound; there were less than fifty army defenders, along with some plainclothes security and a dozen or so policemen. Reinforcements were engaged in a fierce fight at a guard post outside the city; it was unlikely they could reach the palace to prevent its being taken.

The sultan had strapped a gun on his side and was with the army commander inside.

McKe

“Get a helicopter over here on the double and get the sultan the hell out,” McKe

“Helicopter is forty minutes away.”

“Forty minutes!”

“It’s coming up from Tutong,” said the controller.

Smoke began pouring out of the side of the ministry building. “Can you get some sort of boat in to make a rescue?” McKe

“The navy is working on that.”

That wasn’t going to do. White-pajamas were swarming all over the place. McKe

“Yo, ground FAC, what’s your situation?” she asked as she recovered on the city side of the compound.

“Under fire.”

“The sultan there?”

“Yes. We’re going to retreat to the south.”

“Negative! Negative!” she said, catching sight of three pickup trucks filled with white-pajamas. “No, listen, can you get out to the highway near the main entrance?”