The commander had already vectored two French jets south, and was in the process of alerting another flight as backup.

“Your aircraft is clear to engage if necessary,” said the air commander. “We’re establishing direct coms now.”

“I’d like to keep him over my operation area,” said Danny.

“That’s all right with us. Colonel—we’re seeing two helicopters taking off nearby. We’re not sure if they’re hostile.”

“Can we shoot them down?”

“Have they taken hostile action?”

“I’d rather not wait for that.”

“Stand by.”

Danny clicked into Turk’s frequency.

“I’m talking to the allied command about the helicopters,” he told him. “Stand by and be ready.”

“They’re getting close.”

“Are they armed?”

“The Hind has a chin gun,” said Turk.

“Understood. Anything hostile, take them out. We’re a few minutes away.”

“Yup,” snapped Turk, clearly irritated that he had to wait. The helicopters could get right next to Rubeo without doing anything hostile, and then shoot. Turk knew there would be no way to protect him.

“Whiplash, be advised, those helicopters are part of the rebel alliance,” said the air commander, coming back on the line.

“They came out of a government city,” said Danny.

“City leadership has gone over to the rebels.”

“When?”

“It’s in progress,” said the controller. “The helicopters are not hostile. We have spoken to one of their ground commanders.”

“You’re sure of this?”

“Affirmative.”

“They’re moving into an area where my guy on the ground may be threatened,” answered Danny. “Tell them to get the hell out of there.”

“We’re working on it. Do not engage.”

“Tell them to change course,” Danny said.

“I am not in direct communications with them at this time. We’re trying to establish a direct link. Suggest your aircraft attempt to contact them as well on Guard.”

“If they continue, they will be shot down,” Danny warned. He went back to Turk. “Turk, command is saying the aircraft are considered friendly. Try contacting them directly. If they look like a threat, nail them.”

“I want them to stay back.”

“Understood and agreed. Warn them off. Don’t fire unless you have to, but keep Rubeo safe.”

“What about the MiGs?”

“Air command allegedly is taking care of them,” said Danny. “But same thing there.”

“Yeah, roger, I got it. Easier if we were just running this on our own.”

“But we’re not.”

“Tigershark copies.”

16

Libya, north of Mizdah

Kharon hesitated, unsure what to do. Finally he decided to follow Rubeo, who was heading back up to the hills where they had been. After the first tentative steps, he put his head down and began running in earnest.

Whatever happens, I’ll stay with him. I’m as good as dead now anyway.

He caught up with Rubeo and trotted alongside him for a few steps. Then he decided to go ahead.

“I’m going to see if I can see anything from the top of the hill,” said Kharon.

“OK,” wheezed Rubeo.

Kharon started to run again. He cut left, up the steep side of the hill. Several large rocks blocked his way. He veered right, then felt the side of his foot giving way in the loose dirt. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, the left side of his face burning.

Rubeo was about ten yards from Kharon when he went down. He changed direction, huffing with every step.

The young man lay curled up, in obvious pain. His face had hit the rocks and blood streamed down the side to his chin and the ground. As Rubeo started to inspect the wounds, he saw that Kharon’s pants leg was soaked red as well. He reached over and started to examine it.

Kharon yelped as Rubeo touched the leg. His bone had punctured the surface; he had a compound fracture.

“H-Help me,” muttered Kharon.

“You’re going to be OK,” said Rubeo.

“I’m cold.”

“You’re going into shock,” said Rubeo. “You broke your bone. It’s a compound fracture.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“We’re going to be OK. My people are coming for me.”

The helicopters were getting very loud. They were exposed here, easily seen.

“I’m going to get one of the guns from the van,” Rubeo told him. “Just in case we have to hold out for a few minutes.”

“Don’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll be right back. I promise.”

17

Tripoli

The three vans carrying General Zongchen’s committee and their security team were met at the airport by a pair of NATO armored personnel carriers that had just arrived. The alliance had also added more ground troops—two companies’ worth of Spanish infantrymen, who fanned out around the far section of the airport.

Another ring of security had been established near the hangar where they were to meet the Libyan defense minister. Here, members of GROM—roughly the Polish equivalent of American SEALs—stood guard. The committee’s own security team was instructed to stay outside the building; no guns were to be allowed inside the walls.

Zongchen looked at Zen as the Polish GROM commander, through a translator, informed him of the ground rules, which he seemed uncomfortable with.

Zen shrugged. “I don’t think we’re in any more danger here than anywhere else,” he told the general. “Assuming you trust the minister.”

“I trust no one,” said Zongchen. “But let us proceed.”

The minister’s presence at the airport was supposed to be a secret, but with all these troops, it was obvious to even the dullest human being that something important was going on. It wouldn’t take much to guess what that was.

Zongchen’s energy level had increased during the short trip to the airport; he practically sprang ahead toward the terminal. Even Zen, with his powered wheelchair, had trouble keeping up.

The interior of the hangar was empty except for a ring of Polish guards around the walls. A pair of folding tables had been placed end to end near the center of the large space. There were a dozen chairs arranged somewhat haphazardly around them. Three were occupied—one by the new Libyan defense minister, one by his translator, and one by an army general.

Zongchen greeted them enthusiastically. The bearing of the Libyan delegation was clearly more to his liking than that of the rebels, and he seemed more relaxed than he had been in the city. Introductions were made, and as the committee members began sorting themselves into seats, Zongchen began saying that he had just come from a meeting with one of the rebel leaders and they were very eager for a settlement.

“They will have to lay their weapons aside,” said the defense minister. “When they have done that, then we will have a talk.”

“That wasn’t the impression you had given us earlier,” said Zen.

“There is much eagerness,” added Zongchen. “But it might behoove the government to make a sufficient gesture—perhaps a public announcement of a cease-fire.”

The defense minister turned to the general. The two spoke in quick but soft Arabic.

“We need something from the alliance,” said the defense minister. “A sign that you will cooperate with us. A temporary cease-fire. From the alliance, and the rebels.”

Technically, the alliance wasn’t at war with the government, merely enforcing the no-fly zone and protecting interests declared “international” by the UN. So agreeing to a mutual cease-fire was not a big deal. Zongchen told the minister that an agreement might be reached quickly for a cease-fire.