"Honor is simply the morality of superior men." - H.L. Mencken
Chapter Twenty Five
Silver Tower
Business District, Dubai
Fires raged through the ground floor windows of the building where the Prokofiev operators had holed up. Those pathetic dolts thought they had a perfect firing line on the Silver Tower's remaining exit, but the Enforcers Corps chopper and its gunner had routinely ruined their plans.
Now Storr, still at the wheel of the lead truck, hit the gas, and The Empress followed him. They bounced over the concrete curbing, left the garage, and rumbled onto the street, with the chopper still hovering above.
Within two minutes they were headed southwest along the desolate highway, bound for Mina Jebal Ali, guided by night vision and, well, to be blunt, vengeance and greed. Patti contacted her over the suit's radio and said that their ship, the NYK Line's Leo Leader out of Panama was pulling into the dock and would be ready within a few minutes to receive them.
"How did the Americans get here? By land? Or by sea... If there's an American ship in the air, this could be all for nothing. Do you understand?"
"Jul, there's no need to remind me of that again."
"Well, if you haven't taken care of that, then I can't promise you anything."
"I understand. And you should understand that linking up with Storr was beyond foolish."
"You gave me no choice. Prokofiev couldn't stop them. Vympel couldn't stop them. So I earned his trust by killing the Chinese. Are you happy?"
"What will you do with the Irken now?"
She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure."
The Tigr was parked just behind a pile of concrete rubble on the north side of the tower. The vehicle's doors were open, a few Prokofiev operators lay around the vehicle, more than likely gunned down by Irkens as they attempted a dismount. Tuvia turned over the car to Dib and Lakota. He was going back into the tower to find his cousin, who was with Schleck and Volker. The rest of Tuvia's men had sought cover in the Almas Tower, but ironically, the chopper had broken off to escort the telecom trucks. Tuvia said the convoy was heading south down Sheikh Zayed Road.
Dib took the wheel, with Lakota at his side. He checked the gauges. Half a tank of gas. More than enough. They had to assume The Empress was meeting someone. The farther south she drove, the stronger the radioactive fallout became. She might be moving the gold out of Abu Dhabi, but probably not much farther south than that.
"Dib, I just got a call from my men at the airport," Said Tuvia over the radio. "They've been putting some fire on that cargo plane, but one of the choppers is keeping them pinned down. My transports have an armored column of T-99's and 9K22's inbound."
"See if you can drop those tanks in to disrupt the DMOV convoy. Get those anti air guns at the airport and in the city. That's about all we can hope for now. I'm thinking the gold is with the DMOVs."
"Okay, Dib."
He turned onto the highway and put the pedal to the metal. One headlight was out, and the engine wailed against the coaxing. He turned off that headlight and used the suit's night vision.
"Ghostex Lead, this is Copeland," Called the team's medic. "Heston and Daugherty are stable but took some serious shrapnel hits. The suits administrated pain meds before I could do anything. Heston's fuel cell is out, damaged by the grenades, and Daugherty's is shot, too. We need to evac a-sap."
Copeland's camera view filled a window in Dib's HUD, and he glimpsed his men sitting up against the tunnel wall, both grimacing.
"All right, hold position till I can get you out of there. Noboru? Pak? Go back for Riggs and Schoolie."
There were few jobs more grim than retrieving the bodies of your fallen Comrades.
He tossed a look at Lakota. "There's just the two of us, some small arms, and a few grenades. How do we stop a convoy of trucks with a big lead?"
"Somebody told me you drove Corvettes when you were younger."
"Maybe."
"Then just drive, baby, drive!"
He drove his foot deeper into the pedal.
"That's nice!" She cried.
Dib flicked his gaze to the right, saw Torque's door just a few feet away, both Corvettes neck and neck now, their Borla exhaust systems thundering as they raced up the four lane road.
He blinked again and saw Lakota. She looked at him.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure we take out those trucks. She doesn't get away this time. Not this time." Her voice did not falter, and he knew she would keep her promise or die trying.
The telecom trucks were running with lights out, so it took both Dib's night vision and zoom lens to finally glimpse them in the distance, range 2.23 kilometers and falling fast.
"I can't get this piece of crap to go any faster."
"It's no Corvette. It's an armored beast."
He snorted. "Yeah."
"Whoa. Hold," She said. "We don't have to catch them." She spoke rapidly to someone else on the other channel, her voice muted by the helmet.
He tensed. "What?"
"You know the old saying, if it becomes a sensor it has to talk to all of us?"
"Yeah, yeah, that thing about situational awareness, but what's that have to do with-"
"Tuvia's sending stuff to me since he know's you're driving. He's regained temporary contact with Chesma. Ikashanko says he's talking to Fleet Admiral Ziebrov, passed on word of what's happening. Chesma's just launched a jet powered Pchela-1T from her top side launch unit. Drone's in the air now. Check it out."
A window opened in the upper right hand corner of Dib's display to stream video from the unmanned reconnaissance drone as it arced high over the road. He spotted their Tigr and the three trucks gliding like blips in a video game display across the dark road. The drone's camera panned right and focused on a long series of docks. A flashing red label appeared with the words Mina Jebel Ali, in Russian.
After a pause, a second glowing label IDed her as the Leo Leader, a hulking blue cargo vessel with a huge bay entrance constructed at her stern. Ramps were just now lowering so that The Empress could drive her trucks directly into the hold without stopping.
"All right, I'm confused," Dib confessed. "She might be heading to the dock, but is she taking the trucks because it's just faster?"
"No, because she's also got the gold," Finished Lakota. "And the DMOVs are just a decoy. We assumed the gold was in the better defended vehicles, and we played right into her hand."
"She's crazy."
"And so are we."
"Ghostex Lead, this is Partisan's Pride, up top at nine thousand feet, over."
A new window in Dib's HUD showed a rotating file image of a Russian An-225 Mriya that was operating out of the Stas in the Indian Ocean. The image switched to the pilot, who wore a heavy pilot's helmet, breathing mask over his mouth, large, dark single lens covering the remainder of his face, topped off with a large metal monocle over where his right eye would be.
A bar below him indicated that his aircraft was equipped with a two prototype PS/VAL-2 laser cannons attached to the belly and the nose cone of the massive cargo plane. The 225's chemical oxygen iodine laser was primarily an air to air missile defense weapon, but according to the Russian intel, the VAL-2 had recently been modified to take out ground targets.
Two smaller windows opened on Dib's HUD screen to show the 225's escort: four of carrier based Su-47s operating from the Joseph V. Stalin Carrier Strike Group.
Dib could barely contain his excitement.
He'd already resigned himself to losing her, but now he had a real chance, with good intel. God bless the Russians.
"Partisan's Pride, this is Ghostex Lead," He began, trying to calm down. "I need a strike on those three telecom trucks observed via air drone. If you can take out the engines with minimal collateral damage, the beers are on me. I'd like to take my target alive. Also, I've got a cargo plane at the airport. I've got anti air on the way, but I'm not certain if they'll make it on time. Need that taken out, too, if it's not too much trouble."
"Roger, Ghostex Lead. We have your ground targets. Vodka is more preferred. Stand by..."
Dib switched channels. "Tuvia, can you get me some people out here? We're going to stop the trucks, but I need help! Pick up my guys at the Silver, then come out!"
"I'll call my men from the Almas, but we only have two Tigrs left here. I can call some more from the north."
"Do it!"
"I will, Dib. And good news. My cousin is okay."
Dib sighed. The Empress could have killed the boy. He doubted she had a soft side. She'd left him alive because that benefited her in some way- but how?
The stench of fuel and burning rubber filled the truck's cabin, and the temperature grew unbearably hot for a moment before the engine began to cough and protest. The Empress didn't notice the basketball sized hole in the hood until smoke began wafting from it.
Storr's truck pulled over to the side of the road, followed by the second truck, and then The Empress joined them, the engine finally dying altogether.
She was aghast as she climbed out of the truck, glanced at the sky, then got on the radio to Patti. "You told me you jammed their uplinks here."
"That's correct."
"Well, they've taken us out with a laser, melted right through the engine blocks. The gold is sitting here. Either you come and pick me up, or it's over. I still have the oil reserve data. Time to cut your losses, you hear me?"
"We need that gold, too."
"Get me out, or I'm walking right now!" She screamed.
Storr ran over to her. "What now? You want us to carry the gold to the ship?"
Several of the Elite troops slid open the rear doors and hopped down from the truck. They ran ahead of Storr and The Empress, then began pointing down the road. One whirled back. "Vehicle coming. Looks Russian." He said in Irken.
"I've called for a pickup," Said The Empress.
"I'm sure you have." Storr turned away from her and began speaking in French to the chopper pilot. He finished, looked at her, smiled weakly, then began speaking to someone else in German.
Meanwhile, the European chopper broke away, wheeled around, and headed north toward the oncoming vehicle.
"Okay, so there's a gunship," Said Lakota calmly. "Any thoughts?"
"Not really."
"So we just drive right at him?"
Dib squinted. "His rocket pods look empty."
"But his cannons aren't."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
Lakota's voice grew more tense. "Lieutenant..."
"Relax. I got this."
Dib took a long breath. She couldn't hear or see what he did on the closed strategic channel. The 225 pilot had cut loose two of his escorts, and the Su-47s were both en route, with the lead jet already locked on to the European gunship.
The pilot stoically reported that one of his air to air missiles were away.
A shooting star wiped across the sky and descended toward the gunship.
Dib's heart beat once. Twice.
He gasped.
The missile struck the gunship top down, and the chopper disintegrated into a fireball that lit up the entire highway. Flaming debris shot from the flames and spread like fireworks to cast a deep glow over the Tigr's hood.
Dib veered to the left as a jagged piece of fuselage slammed down on the hood and shattered the windshield. Then he rolled hard right, tires screeching, as the fiery hunk of metal sent flames billowing toward his helmet.
The Empress stood, aghast. Their air defense had just been blown from the sky, and all she could do was breathe. For just a second, she closed her eyes and told herself no, she wasn't ready to surrender. Not yet.
A blast of air nearly knocked her to the ground.
Suddenly, a pair of jets came swooping down, banked hard, then slowed and turned on their axes as vectoring nozzles switched directions, pointing downward. She'd studied these jets, Su-47s, but she didn't know that these things could switch into VTOL craft. Both hovered now like choppers, and their pilots cut loose with internal cannon fire, rounds ripping and sparking across the road, sending all of them diving for cover behind the trucks.
The Elites began to return fire with their plasma rifles, but Storr hollered for them to keep down. The jets descended even more, and the cannon fire grew unbearable, shredding through the trucks, the gold, a few of the rounds caught the Elites and sent them into the air, the rounds ripping through them and taking limbs along with large chunks of body and armor.
She grabbed Storr by the arm and ran toward the embankment, exploiting several feet of cover below the road. The Elites were screaming, dying up there in the hell storm of unrelenting salvos as their brothers were torn apart by autocannon rounds.
"This is it, Storr," She said. "I guess this is it."
"Did you think I would come here with no backup plan myself?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Wait. Look..."
"What am I looking at?"
"A favor from your old friend Chieftain Major General Tak, who would like to see you more than ever- and I've promised that meeting. And so now we are saved."
"I thought we had a deal."
"Unfortunately, your contacts let you down. Mine won't. You'll be coming back to Irk, to Vasclorein City, with me."
He'd barely finished his sentence when both jets blew apart in successive bursts. Wings, cockpit canopies, and landing gear appeared through swelling fires and tumbled end over end to crash down and scrape across the highway. A wedge shaped piece of fuselage crashed into the telecom trucks, knocking two on their sides and tearing them open. Bricks of gold tumbled out and glittered in the flames, and The Empress hit the dirt as more bricks thumped to the ground around her.
She reached down, grabbed one bar, and cursed at the top of her lungs.
Six Irken Empire Spittle Runners thundered overhead had as he approached the shattered telecom trucks.
At the same time, a pair of Irken Air Reapers accompanied by another pair of Steel Slicers streaked above them, and Dib immediately assumed they been responsible for taking out those Su-47s.
As he and Lakota bounded out of the Tigr, a wave of plasma fire from somewhere behind the trucks sent them down on their bellies, and not a second later, a plasma grenade exploded on Lakota's side of the armored vehicle.
He screamed for her. No answer.
Feeling as though he'd been hit by ten thousand volts, Dib bounded around the Tigr and dropped down beside Lakota, who was lying facedown near the wheel. Razor sharp pieces of shrapnel had peppered one side of her suit. He rolled her over, and her eyes slowly flickered open. "Don't let her get away..."
His HUD showed her vital sign and that the suit had already hit her with painkillers.
Dib nodded, looked up, and saw that the Irken Spittle runners were just now coming around to escort a single Voot Cruiser.
And then, from the embankment, he saw two figures dash forward, away from the trucks.
Dib charged after them, and they didn't notice his approach as the propulsion systems wash shipped across the road.
He leveled his rifle on the taller one and cut loose a triplet of rounds that punched the guy onto his back; however, the rounds failed to penetrate his armor. He was only stunned.
The smaller figure swung back to face him.
It was her.
And she fired into his chest- one, two, three rounds- even as he threw himself into the air and knocked her to the ground. He dropped his rifle and pinned her arms with his knees, and his gloved hands fumbled for the latch on her helmet. He found it, threw it back, and, as she fought to squirm free, twisted off her helmet and tossed it away.
He wrapped his gloved hands around her neck and began to squeeze as he choked her. "Do you know how long I've been looking for you!?" he screamed in English, knowing she understood him.
"I don't care," She said, groaning in exertion.
With a sudden jerk she rolled, driving her legs up and over his head, boots slamming into his helmet. The power in her legs was remarkable, and she tore him free, forcing his head back with both her ankles. He lost his grip on her throat and fell away, reaching out to his right for his rifle.
"Ghostex Lead, this is Partisans Pride, second squadron of Sukoi's inbound. They will have missile range in two minutes, over!"
He couldn't answer the pilot.
And if he could just delay her for two minutes...
Dib sat up- in time to watch The Empress's boot connect with his helmet, knocking him back down.
He rolled, tried to sit up again, but she stood over him now, aiming her pistol at his head.
"Who are you?" She demanded, her antennae whipping in the propulsion wash as the Voot Cruiser landed, with Irken Elites thumping out side the door gunner, who swung his HPC around in Dib's direction.
The first guy Dib had shot was staggering to his feet and screaming in Irken, waving for The Empress to follow him.
Was that Storr?
Ignoring him, she yelled once more for Dib to ID himself.
The weird light in her eyes told him enough. If he kept pushing her buttons, he'd buy more time. "You don't give me order, little girl."
Voices in his ear now: "Dib, it's Tuvia! We're on our way! Almost there!"
"Ghostex Lead, this is Partisans Pride, one minute... Stand by..."
The Empress leaned toward him, aiming at his neck. "I can shoot you right here, and you'll die."
"Kill me. Kill me right here, right now! I'm not afraid to die!"
"Jul!" Screamed the other man. That had to be Storr!
The Irken Elites were running forward now, about to surround them.
Dib stole a look back at Lakota, who was now lying on her side, clutching her rifle, and staring vaguely at him.
Then he glanced back up the road, where in the distance he saw two vehicles, Tigrs, the rest of his team along with Tuvia and some of his own team members. The Irken Spittle Runners had fanned out, and two were turning toward the oncoming vehicles.
Dib wanted to call off Tuvia and his people, but it was already too late."
Lakota began firing at the oncoming Elites, who dropped and returned fire.
At that moment, The Empress leaned down and began to jab her gun into his neck.
Dib grabbed her arm as the pistol went off.
And then he pulled her down toward him with all his might. She lost her balance and fell. Just as he moved to climb back on top of her, plasma fire hammered across his back, and then it came, the sharp, steady pain.
He gasped and fell over, onto his side, as The Empress was pulled away by the other Irken, who Dib confirmed was now Storr.
He was working for her?
Lakota fired again, and strangely, the Elites retreated without returning fire, even as Lakota continued to squeeze the trigger.
Rockets ignited from above and streaked away from the Irken Runners. Dib turned his head to watch as his people bailed out of the troop compartment of the Tigr, only seconds before the rockets struck. Twin explosions of blue swelled into summits of plasma, and the screams from his men over the team channel were awful and unbearable. The Tigr assumedly carrying Tuvia turned around and headed back in retreat, Dib could hear Tuvia yelling over the channel in Russian for his driver to stop.
"Ghostex Lead, this is Partisans Pride, thirty seconds..."
You're too late, Dib wanted to tell him, but a wave of dizziness was taking hold, the ground listing to the left as though he were on a boat.
He knew if he stared hard enough at those flames in the distance he'd see Torque, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Ghostex Lead, Sukoi's on station. Lock in five, four, three, two..."
The Empress glanced back once more at the soldier who'd attacked her. It had been years since she'd encountered a man so fiery eyed and determined. he seemed obsessed with her, and she took that as a true compliment. She thought of ordering the Elites to grab him, capture him, but she wouldn't explain why she would issue such an order.
She was about to climb into the Voot Cruiser, but was halted by a tall Irken wearing a set of ACUPAT fatigues, tan shirt under with matching combat boots.
"Zim?" The Empress expressed heavy shock in her tone. "What are you wearing? Why are you here?"
She turned to Storr, who presented an IR American flag patch.
She turned back to Zim, who now had a large human side arm aimed at her chest, an IMI Desert Eagle Mk. XIX .50 that would punch right through her.
"I'm sorry, Jul," Zim said, his large ruby eyes brimming with tears as he pulled the trigger.
The Empress gasped as the .50 caliber action express round fired from Zim's side arm ripped through her chest, the sound of metal on metal clanged, the round exiting out her PAK as it exploded, components and steel ripping away from it and falling to the concrete below. She began to fall backward, and Storr caught her, gently lying her down as Zim hopped down from the Voot Cruisers rear ramp, Elites standing in a circle, watching.
Zim reached Jul and knelt down beside her, taking her hand in his own. His face grew tense with sorrow. "I'm sorry." He said again as he raised the side arm and put it to her temple.
"Zim..." She said in a weak voice. "I am too." The tears now forming in her turquoise eyes.
Zim ordered Storr and to contact the Russians and have them pick up Dib and his team immediately, just before he closed his eyes, turned away, held his breath, and pulled the trigger.
And Jul's grasp in his hand grew limp.
(End Chapter)