Assault on Alpha Base Read online

  As Vikki poked around, McGriffin sat sweating, debating how to approach her.

  She was his only ally, his only possible way to stop them. Without the helicopter to vector the fighters in, it was hopeless. But yet … if she was one of them, could he convince her to help him?

  And if pigs had wings, they could fly.

  Reality hit him smack in the face: he was kidding himself, molding her into what he wanted her to be. Vikki might be showing some soft side of her personality, but if she was really in on this raid—and if she’d really killed a man, as Harding had just said—he wouldn’t be able to change her mind. At least not in the next five minutes.

  He inched away from the helicopter. His plan dissolved before his eyes.

  Quickly turning, he started to make his way to the C-l30, back to where he might be able to do something to the plane—the fuel tanks, anything. If he had to, he could always pump a few rounds in the instruments and wing tanks in a suicide stand.

  A trigger clicked behind his head. “Make another move and you’re dead.” McGriffin froze in his tracks. “Drop it.” His shotgun fell to the ground. He stood, raising his hands over his head, not offering any resistance. “Turn around.” As he slowly turned, Vikki came into view.

  Her eyes widened. Her rifle dropped momentarily, then straightened as she tightened her grip. Her eyes drew together and flashed as if she were betrayed.

  They stared at each other. Behind her the helicopter belched smoke, setting her body in a surrealistic frame. She whispered, “Well?”

  McGriffin drew in deep breaths. His trembling abated. He kept silent.

  Her rifle wavered. “Bill, what … do you know what you’re doing? How did you get here?”

  McGriffin blinked and jerked his head toward the downed helicopter. “Vikki …”

  She seemed to notice his uniform for the first time. She raised her voice and tightened her grip on the barrel. “How dare you. You didn’t tell me you were one of them.” She spat out the word.

  “Vikki …” He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing—”

  McGriffin stopped at a rustling behind him. Harding’s voice broke through the night.

  “Well, well. It looks like old home week here. Who is this, Vikki? Another one of your GI Joes you’ve been screwing on the side? Dragged him out of the helicopter for a little action, huh?”

  Vikki held her rifle steady on McGriffin. “Don’t be an ass, Anthony. I didn’t drag him from anywhere. He was trying to get to the plane. Lucky I caught him, too.”

  As Harding walked into view, McGriffin’s heart sank. Looks like I’ve tied one up big time. Anything else from here on out would only be a plus. An instance at the Academy roared through his mind. It was unarmed combat, and the instructor was telling them about impossible situations: never give up; never allow yourself to be shot between the eyes. Better to go down swinging and have half a chance than placidly have your hands tied behind your back and be executed.

  Harding broke his chain of thought. “So where do you know this teddy from?”

  Vikki hesitated. “He’s one of the fascists I met.”

  “An officer?” Harding dropped his jaw in mock amazement. He brought his pistol up and brushed off McGriffin’s shoulder boards. “Too bad you couldn’t have nailed one of the really big ones. I hear that intelligence is inversely proportional to rank: the higher they come, the dumber they are. And compared to your friend Britnell, this bozo must really be an idiot.”

  He jerked his head back to Vikki. “We’re loaded. Kill him. We’re ready to go.” He started toward the C-130.

  Vikki stared at McGriffin.

  After ten steps Harding stopped and said irritably, “I said, kill him. If he’s just a fascist, what’s the problem?” He narrowed his eyes and studied Vikki.

  Harding was just at the edge of McGriffin’s peripheral vision. Vikki watched McGriffin. Her eyes grew round.

  McGriffin whispered, “Vikki!” and took a step forward.

  Harding whipped up his pistol.

  McGriffin primed himself. I’m not going to stand here and be shot! He drew in a deep breath. Adrenaline raced through his veins. Vikki’s rifle wavered. He flexed his legs and started to jump—

  “Shoot him now, dammit!”

  Vikki trembled.

  Harding swung his pistol to Vikki and pulled off a shot. Vikki collapsed as McGriffin dove into the brush.

  McGriffin rolled, keeping his head tucked to his chest. Burrs and twigs tore into his skin. Pollen, shaken loose from his rolling, drove into his nostrils. He sneezed.

  He opened his eyes, still rolling. Shots peppered the ground. Two, three, four—a red-hot needle tore into his arm. It felt as if his shoulder would fall off. He grabbed at the wound and crouched lower.

  Scrambling, he ran a crooked path away from the shots. Harding crashed after him, emptying the pistol. A volley of shots rang out, but they zinged by, missing him. Reaching the edge of the meadow, McGriffin dove into the thick brush. Crawling on his hands and knees, he fell to the ground. He tried to catch his breath, then slowed his breathing so it wouldn’t give him away.

  Pressing his wound with his hand, he gritted his teeth at the pain. He balled his body up and tried to make himself invisible by pushing his head to the ground.

  Feet thrashed in the brush. The search continued briefly, a mixture of bullets and cursing filling the air. Finally, Harding yelled out in disgust, “Let’s go, dammit. He can’t stop us now.”

  Waiting until the footsteps receded, McGriffin raised his head and peered toward the meadow. Harding stood over Vikki and toed her lightly on the shoulder. When she moaned, he bent and picked up her rifle. Rummaging for McGriffin’s rifle, he cradled both weapons and looked down at her. “You’d be better off with your boyfriend, bitch.” He swung a rifle down and pointed it at her.

  Hesitating, he dropped the weapon. “Dying’s the easy way out. So much for your idealism. You didn’t have a clue about Do’brai, or why I really wanted to do this, did you? Just be sure to let them know if they find you what this was really about.” He turned for the plane.

  McGriffin closed his eyes. Opening them, he watched Harding disappear into the night.

  He could get the rifle from Vikki, try and stop the airplane. He waited and made sure no one was watching him. He was about to move when a loud whining broke through the stillness: an APU! The auxiliary power unit ran up through the decibels. One of the C-130’s engines coughed, then sputtered as it revved up. A second engine caught, and the meadow vibrated with the roar from the propellers.

  McGriffin crouched and took an unsteady step forward. He tried to ignore the pain in his arm, but couldn’t concentrate. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket with his left hand and tried to wrap it around the wound. Fumbling with the cloth, he grew frustrated when he couldn’t tie it, so he threw the handkerchief away.

  The C-130 revved up engine three and started moving up the meadow. McGriffin shot a glance at Vikki. His eyes widened. She’s gone! Wildly looking around, he couldn’t see her. She must have dragged herself away. As the airplane moved out, he felt suddenly chilled. He had to do something.

  There was nothing left to shoot with. He thought briefly about throwing rocks, but quickly shoved the idea away. His breathing quickened. Good Lord, help me! He spotted the HH-53 that Harding had abandoned. Maybe they left something in there, anything.

  Keeping pressure on his right shoulder, he stumbled toward the helicopter. The grass whipped past, hindering his motion. The C-130 started slowing as it reached the top of the meadow. The landing lights were off. The pilot relied only on the starlight to guide him.

  Staggering across the field, McGriffin reached the helicopter just as the C-130 turned. He swung a foot up and pulled himself in with his good hand.

  He looked wildly around. Nothing. The C-130 thundered, bringing its fourth engine up. The helicopter vibrated from the sound. Channeled by the ring of mountain peaks, the plane threw its noi
se straight down the meadow.

  Now think, he thought. What would a chopper pilot use in an emergency? They sit alert, but not for fighting. These things rescue people, they don’t kill them. Come on, think!

  Rescue! What would rescue helicopters use? Manny had said they were only used to rescue …

  Flares! Of course, they were probably loaded with flares.

  He crawled to the front. Wincing in pain, McGriffin tore into several bags stenciled with undecipherable black lettering. He hauled out a flare gun. Steadying himself for a moment, he caught his breath. His arm felt as if it would fall off. He grasped the flare gun with his right hand, keeping his left plastered to his right shoulder.

  Turning, he moved to the door and stumbled out. He dragged himself away from the helicopter and toward the center of the field. The C-130 ran up its engines, brakes creaking as if it were a racehorse straining against the starting gate.

  The noise was overwhelming. He raised the flare gun, aiming for the cockpit. He’d have to wait until it was closer. If he were lucky, he might be able to distract the pilot. If not, he might bring attention to any aircraft searching for them—

  “Drop it, Bill!” coughed Vikki.

  McGriffin rotated his body. Vikki was on the ground, holding an M-16 on him. She had the rifle Harding threw at her! If he could get it—

  “Vikki—”

  “Drop it!” she shrilled.

  McGriffin wet his lips. “Vikki, my God—think of all the people that could die—”

  “Think of all the people that will live. The peace, the way people will have to change once they find out how easy it is to steal these weapons. Think of the groundswell it will cause.”

  McGriffin took a step forward.

  “No closer.” She coughed, then spat blood off to the side.

  McGriffin tried to switch tactics. He ignored the pounding in his shoulder. “Vikki, how could you do this? Harding tried to kill you. I can stop him.”

  She twisted her mouth. Sitting on the ground, she looked up at him, holding her rifle steady. “You don’t understand, do you? It’s not him. It’s not Anthony at all. It’s what he can do if he succeeds. It’s something we’ve dreamed about for years.”

  A tremendous roar washed over them. Turning, McGriffin saw the C-130 start moving. Slowly, it lumbered down the meadow, kicking up dust and grit in its prop wash. McGriffin turned back to Vikki. His eyes pleaded with her.

  She raised her voice over the racket. “Drop it—”

  McGriffin gritted his teeth and dove for the ground.

  Vikki’s M-16 went off, spraying bullets over his head. The impulse knocked her backward.

  McGriffin brought the flare gun up. His hands wavering, he let off a charge, aiming over Vikki’s head.

  The night exploded in a mishmash of purple-green splotches. Vikki screamed and clutched at her eyes.

  Rolling to his back, McGriffin let off a succession of three more charges. He could barely see the plane in the ensuing brightness.

  The fireballs burst into the night just as the C-130 rotated from the ground. One went off in front of the cockpit. Pushing himself up, he squinted to see the C-130 still airborne. Burning flesh and hair stung his nostrils.

  As he watched, the 130’s right wing dipped. Catching a tree at the end of the meadow, the aircraft spun around in slow motion. An explosion lit up the night. McGriffin could barely see through the spots before his eyes. The squat transport hit water and broke into pieces, skimming the surface. It burst into flames.

  The fire flashed over the aircraft and spread to the meadow. The heat of the fire surrounding Vikki and him made him vomit. As he struggled up to stomp out the flames, he passed out.

  Chapter 23

  Sunday, 19 June, 0307 local

  7000 Feet over Oasis, Nevada

  “Don’t move, Major. You’ve got an IV in you.”

  McGriffin opened his eyes. The ceiling jiggled crazily, like someone was bouncing the room up and down. JP-4 and antiseptic mixed in a bizarre potpourri of smells. The whooshing and movement brought him back to reality: he was inside a helicopter. He tried to move his hands but couldn’t. They were bound to his sides.

  His shoulder didn’t hurt. It struck him that nothing hurt. Trying to move his arm again, he realized that he couldn’t feel it. He opened his mouth—it felt cottony.

  The nurse put a finger to his lips and smiled, shaking her head. “You’re burned pretty badly, sir. We’ve got you doped up and will be air evacking you to Salt Lake City as soon as we reach Wendover.”

  “Man … Manny?” He was surprised at the sound of his voice. The words croaked out.

  The nurse sternly admonished him. “No talking, Major.”

  “Howdy, sir.” Chief Zolley pushed his face over McGriffin’s. Zolley threw a look at the nurse. “I’ll fill him in, Lieutenant. He’s probably dying to know what’s going on.”

  The nurse grimaced at his choice of words but moved back, allowing Chief Zolley to hunch forward.

  “Manny, I mean Captain Yarnez, is right behind you. You’re both going to be spending some time in the Shriner’s burn unit. It took a while, but once the fires showed up on satellite, we were able to pull you out by airlifting nearly half the base to the mountains.” He leaned closer. “You got them, Major. The DOE team recovered every stolen nuke. They weren’t even scratched in those containers. You really did a real Sierra Hotel job.”

  McGriffin tried to wet his lips. “Alfa—Alfa …”

  “Alpha Base? It’s surrounded with the rest of the security police force, plus some Marines flown in from Pendleton on Transatmospheric Vehicles. They rounded up the terrorists, including four in a Bronco, trying to escape off base. No civilian air traffic is allowed anywhere near Wendover.” He laughed. “There’s some crazy first lieutenant, a big black security policeman, who was inside Alpha Base during the raid—he nearly took out the whole NEST and Broken Arrow teams when they didn’t produce their ID’s fast enough. He’s acting like he’s possessed.” Zolley shook his head. “Between him and those two drunk fighter pilots—after the smoke cleared, we couldn’t drag those two F-16 jocks out of the O’Club bar.”

  Moving his weight from one foot to the other, Zolley continued, “We were holed up in the command post for nearly two hours, trying to dig out from the explosions. Whoever planned that assault didn’t have to do anything fancy: they just took out our centralized communications points and hit us when we were asleep.”

  McGriffin mouthed “Vikki …”

  He grew somber. “They’ve got the girl under constant surveillance. She said something about Do’brai backing them before she passed out. Rumor is the administration isn’t going to let them get away with it if it’s true. Something about a ‘swift, decisive response.’

  “Anyway, you missed the excitement at command post, but I’m sure the hell glad you weren’t there. We would have never stopped them if it wasn’t for you.”

  As the nurse approached, Chief Zolley clammed up.

  “Sergeant, Major McGriffin needs his rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stood and directed his comments to McGriffin. “I’m only along as an official observer from command post. Colonel DeVries wants an up-to-the-minute report on everything that happens.” He grinned broadly. “He was ready to court-martial you when he discovered you left your post, but from all I’ve been hearing, you’ll get an audience with the commander-in-chief after you’re healed.”

  “Sergeant!”

  Chief Zolley placed a hand on McGriffin’s chest. “Good luck, sir.” Zolley winked, then turned and nodded to the nurse before stepping to the rear.

  The young lieutenant stuck a needle into the IV sac. “This will help you get back to sleep, Major. Just relax.”

  McGriffin blinked. Just relax, he thought dreamily. It wasn’t like his problems were over. Lieutenant Fellows, Manny … It felt great to be part of a team. It was the only thing in the world that could compare with flying, getting to work with guy
s like that. Like someone once said, “No matter how dark things get, that sun is always going to rise in the morning.”

  And then he thought of Vikki.

  He steeled himself.

  Maybe that sun wasn’t going to rise after all, at least not for her. Funny how he thought he knew her. He wondered how much more he didn’t know about her.

  After this raid, security at Alpha Base could only tighten, making it impossible for something like this to ever happen again. So in a way, maybe Vikki got what she wanted after all.

  As he drifted off to sleep, he felt placid. It wasn’t like he’d ever get bored in the Air Force, even pulling a desk job.

  Who’d have ever thought he’d see more excitement than flying?

  About the Author

  Colonel Doug Beason, USAF (ret), is the author of 14 books, eight with collaborator Kevin J. Anderson, including Ignition (bought by Universal studios), Nebula nominee Assemblers of Infinity, and Ill Wind (optioned by Fox Studios). His solo novels are Return to Honor, Assault on Alpha Base, and Strike Eagle. His latest nonfiction book is The E-Bomb: How America’s New Directed Energy Weapons Will Change the Way Wars Will Be Fought. Colonel Beason’s short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies as diverse as Analog and Amazing Stories, to Physical Review Letters and The Wall Street Journal. A Fellow of the American Physical Society and Ph.D. physicist, Doug has worked on the White House staff for the President’s Science Advisor, was the Associate Laboratory Director at the Los Alamos National Laboratory, where he was responsible for reducing the global threat of weapons of mass destruction, and was recently Chief Scientist for Air Force Space Command. On active duty for 24 years, Colonel Beason’s last assignment was as the Commander of the Phillips Research Site, where he was responsible for the facilities and personnel conducting research on directed-energy weapons and space vehicles in three theaters world-wide. He is currently Senior Vice President for Special Programs at Universities Space Research Association and is at work on several novels. DougBeason.com