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motor fired, and the missile covered the last seven thousand feet of its attack run in less than two seconds. The mini-Mav’s warhead was twenty-eight pounds of thermium-nitrate-energized high explosive, which had the power of ten times its weight in TNT. The truck and its six occupants disappeared in a cloud of dust, smoke, and yellow-red explosions.
    The StealthHawk’s laser radar remained locked on to the target for postattack analysis, but from the large secondary explosions and size of the smoke and fire clouds surrounding the target, it became clear only seconds later that the truck was toast. “Target appears to be destroyed,” Patrick said.
    â€œDamn, I’ll say,” Rebecca breathed as she watched the last moments of the StealthHawk’s bomb-damage assessment on Patrick’s multifunction display. She had a lot of experience with the thermium-nitrate explosives and knew that that same mini-Mav missile could take out a main battle tank—“overkill” was a gross understatement when describing a thermium-nitrate warhead hitting a little Toyota pickup. “Pretty awesome weapon.”
    â€œStealthHawk engaging the second pickup,” Patrick said. “Missile two away. . . .”
    The StealthHawk leveled off two thousand feet above the ground and headed for its second target, a column of two Toyota pickups filled with guerrilla soldiers. This time the occupants saw it coming. “Split up! Split up!” Zarazi screamed. He raised his AK-74 rifle and opened fire, and the other five men in the back of the pickup opened fire as well.
    It was like looking down the barrel of a gun just before the trigger was pulled—and then realizing the barrel was pulled away right at the very last second. Moments after Zarazi’s truck veered away, the first truck disappeared under a tremendous explosion. Zarazi and the guerrillas in the second pickup saw the other pickup emerge from the cloud of flame and smoke looking as if the truck had been blasted apart by a giant shotgun, set afire, and then tossed across the ground. “Allah, have mercy,” Zarazi muttered. “Allah, get us out of this, and I promise I will avenge myself on the infidels that send these demon robot planes to kill your faithful servants—I swear it!”
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    â€œOh, baby! ” Patrick exclaimed. The mini-Mav’s infrared sensor clearly showed the second pickup truck and its terrified occupants as the missile homed in. At least six automatic rifles were firing at both the mini-Mav and the second StealthHawk, but it was too late. He switched to the first StealthHawk’s imaging-infrared camera as the mini-Mav missile hit, and its picture disappeared. Tires, engine, fuel tank, ammunition, and bodies exploded in perfect unison, and the truck cartwheeled in a cloud of fire across the wasteland. “Got the sucker!”
    â€œGot one more truck trying to get away!” Furness exclaimed. “He knows we’re on his tail, and he’s hauling ass.”
    â€œDon’t worry, the StealthHawk has lots of ammo and fuel,” Patrick said. “That third truck is toast.” Patrick entered commands to launch a third mini-Maverick . . .
    But instead of the missile’s releasing and gliding to its target, the StealthHawk UCAV itself started to descend. “Check altitude . . . altitude two thousand . . . check altitude, altitude two thousand . . . Shit, I think I lost contact with the UCAV.”
    â€œWell, at least we get a ringside seat for the impact,” Rebecca said. But the unmanned air vehicle didn’t make impact—instead it leveled out at two hundred feet aboveground, clearly in view of the Taliban fighters below, and began flying westward. “Okay, General, where in hell is it going?” Rebecca asked.
    â€œDamned if I know,” Patrick replied. “But it’ll run out of fuel in forty