confidence in his men, but they were basically light infantry; a single armoured enemy detachment would make short work of them, or at least shut down the airport and prevent the exploitation of their victory. The control tower had been sealed; a shaped charge made short work of it and the team charged upwards.
“This is Airport One, we need help,” a female voice was pleading, high above them. There was no point in being stealthy now; the team advanced as quickly as they could, finding a second locked door, but one light enough to be kicked aside with a single kick. The paratroopers swarmed into the room, seeing a set of flight controllers, their eyes wide with terror and shock. One of them was screaming into a radio; Aliyev shot her, just on general principles. The others raised their hands and were rapidly secured, searched, and placed out of the way.
“Delta-lead, we have secured objective two,” a voice buzzed in his ears. Aliyev had had years of training to come to grips with the local secured communications network that the Americans had invented and the Russians had copied. “There are seven aircraft and plenty of fuel; five down and seventeen prisoners.”
“Move them to the terminal,” Aliyev ordered, as the flight controllers were herded out of the room, pushed and shoved by Russian commandos. The body of the dead flight controller was moved out of the way as Aliyev took the main terminal, shouting for two of his specially trained commandos to come in and take over the flight terminal. The airport had to be cleared of traffic so that their reinforcements could come into the airport and help them to secure it. “Have the pilots check the aircraft and let me know if they can be used for our own transport.”
“I have locked the airport out of the general network,” a commando reported. “We have full control over the terminals and there are no signs that anyone intends to come take it off us.”
Aliyev smiled once; had it really been ten minutes since they had begun the operation? It felt as if it had been hours. “Get the radioman to work,” he snapped. They had been lucky; one of the other random variables would have been a destroyed or damaged civilian airliner on the runway, something that would prevent them from flying in reinforcements until it could be moved out of the way. “I want them to know that they can send in their reinforcements as quickly as possible.”
He took a breath. There were hundreds of aircraft holding position well behind the front lines; they would have their chance to move in and reinforce the new position, with thousands of additional commandos, some heavy weapons, and even a few light armoured vehicles. By the time the enemy got themselves organised, Aliyev would have an entire brigade sitting on the airport and expanding his zone of control as rapidly as he could. Unless they reacted quickly, the enemy would discover that their rear area was disintegrating under his pressure…and that of the main body of the Russian forces.
“This is Control,” a new voice said. Aliyev lifted an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that so quickly. “Stand down; I repeat, stand down. This exercise is terminated.”
The ‘shot’ flight controller stood up, rubbing the side of her body. She had been lucky; it wasn't unknown for participants in Spetsnaz exercises to come away with broken bones, if not worse. The soldiers were trained to be ruthless, even with the units who were playing the role of the defender; the only concession to humanity had been the use of laser weapons instead of real assault rifles. It was enough to know that if it had been a real assault, the unit would have taken the airport very quickly, without a real fight.
“I trust I was convincing,” she said, as they headed down the stairs. “I thought I might actually have managed to raise someone on the outside that
“This is Airport One, we need help,” a female voice was pleading, high above them. There was no point in being stealthy now; the team advanced as quickly as they could, finding a second locked door, but one light enough to be kicked aside with a single kick. The paratroopers swarmed into the room, seeing a set of flight controllers, their eyes wide with terror and shock. One of them was screaming into a radio; Aliyev shot her, just on general principles. The others raised their hands and were rapidly secured, searched, and placed out of the way.
“Delta-lead, we have secured objective two,” a voice buzzed in his ears. Aliyev had had years of training to come to grips with the local secured communications network that the Americans had invented and the Russians had copied. “There are seven aircraft and plenty of fuel; five down and seventeen prisoners.”
“Move them to the terminal,” Aliyev ordered, as the flight controllers were herded out of the room, pushed and shoved by Russian commandos. The body of the dead flight controller was moved out of the way as Aliyev took the main terminal, shouting for two of his specially trained commandos to come in and take over the flight terminal. The airport had to be cleared of traffic so that their reinforcements could come into the airport and help them to secure it. “Have the pilots check the aircraft and let me know if they can be used for our own transport.”
“I have locked the airport out of the general network,” a commando reported. “We have full control over the terminals and there are no signs that anyone intends to come take it off us.”
Aliyev smiled once; had it really been ten minutes since they had begun the operation? It felt as if it had been hours. “Get the radioman to work,” he snapped. They had been lucky; one of the other random variables would have been a destroyed or damaged civilian airliner on the runway, something that would prevent them from flying in reinforcements until it could be moved out of the way. “I want them to know that they can send in their reinforcements as quickly as possible.”
He took a breath. There were hundreds of aircraft holding position well behind the front lines; they would have their chance to move in and reinforce the new position, with thousands of additional commandos, some heavy weapons, and even a few light armoured vehicles. By the time the enemy got themselves organised, Aliyev would have an entire brigade sitting on the airport and expanding his zone of control as rapidly as he could. Unless they reacted quickly, the enemy would discover that their rear area was disintegrating under his pressure…and that of the main body of the Russian forces.
“This is Control,” a new voice said. Aliyev lifted an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that so quickly. “Stand down; I repeat, stand down. This exercise is terminated.”
The ‘shot’ flight controller stood up, rubbing the side of her body. She had been lucky; it wasn't unknown for participants in Spetsnaz exercises to come away with broken bones, if not worse. The soldiers were trained to be ruthless, even with the units who were playing the role of the defender; the only concession to humanity had been the use of laser weapons instead of real assault rifles. It was enough to know that if it had been a real assault, the unit would have taken the airport very quickly, without a real fight.
“I trust I was convincing,” she said, as they headed down the stairs. “I thought I might actually have managed to raise someone on the outside that
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