“What’s the matter anyway?” asked Han, who glove-twitched furiously. “Why all the alarm?”
There was silence from the techs as Han began to twitch with greater awareness.
“What’s this, Captain?” a tech shouted. “You just switched one of the drone’s settings.”
“You must be mistaken,” said Han.
“He’s turning the systems on and off,” the other tech said in wonder.
At that moment, there was loud banging, like a door striking a wall. Feet pounded on the chamber’s floor and equipment clattered against what sounded like body-armor. Thoroughly frightened, Han tore off his helmet. An enforcer-lieutenant entered the room and pointed a gun at him, with three other scary-looking sergeants doing the same thing.
“What’s the matter?” cried Han.
“Sabotage!” shouted the lieutenant, his muscular face a blotchy red color.
Han looked up at the bewildered techs.
“The American carriers used your recon corridor!” the lieutenant shouted. “Their aircraft are attacking our carriers as we speak! Captain Han, you are under arrest as a CIA spy. So are you two! You filthy traitors sicken me.”
“No, no!” shouted the shorter tech. “It was all Captain Han’s fault. Without our knowledge, he de-activated his drone’s sensors.” The tech pointed at Han down in the pit.
The lieutenant stepped up to the tech. With his gun-holding hand, he smashed the man across the forehead. The tech crashed to the floor, moaning and clutching his bleeding head.
“You’re a nest of traitors without even the manhood to stick together!” the lieutenant snarled. He waved his gun. “Shackle them. We’re going to take them down to interrogation and find out exactly how and why this treachery occurred. I promise you that.”
It was then that Captain Han began to shout incoherently, cursing the lieutenant, China and most of all the Space Service.
(Reuters) At a terrible loss of pilots and aircraft, the United States Navy struck at the Chinese Invasion Fleet yesterday. It was reminiscent of the Battle of Midway, as the gods of war blessed the bold. The two air wings went in low, flying a mere fifty feet above the Pacific Ocean. They slipped through the outer Chinese radar-net and caught the middle defense-zone ships asleep. Those ships were seventy kilometers from the carriers. Our aircraft sank the two cruisers, a helicopter-carrier and four destroyers.
That opened the way through the Chinese air defense for a mass barrage of American cruise missiles. Those missiles helped give America its greatest victory thus far in the war.
The air-battle in the Chinese primary zone was a different affair. The massed might of seven supercarriers faced the two American air-wings. Not since World War Two against the Japanese has such an aerial duel taken place in the Pacific Ocean. Chinese pilots, Electronic Warfare and missiles proved a tough match for our brave airmen. American planes were lost at an estimated rate of two for every one Chinese aircraft. Despite such losses, the remaining attackers bravely zeroed in on the big supercarriers.
Captain Danny Wright came in low, arming his Gladius-6 air-to-ship missile. With a shudder, the ship-killing missile dropped from his underbelly and ignited. The short flight-time and wave-top attack meant the Gladius-6 burrowed deep into the Chinese carrier. The explosion was among the three direct hits recorded by our pilots, and a fourth strike sunk a non-carrier vessel. As the last Navy pilots streaked for Alaska, with Captain Danny Wright among them, the cruise missiles arrived. They caught the Chinese pilots landing on their carriers to rearm and refuel. Three more hits were recorded, with the sinking of the Chinese supercarriers
Unfortunately, the two U.S. Navy carriers launching the brave attack were hit by a brutal Chinese counter- strike. After a long battle with damage-control, the two U.S. carriers sank, along with the escorting destroyers and cruisers. It was a bitter blow, but the Navy gave a shot to the chin against the Chinese invaders.
The fight continues, but now the Chinese know that neither the Navy, the Army, the Marines, nor the incredible Alaskan National Guard will surrender. It is a fight to the finish, and the Chinese will learn their lesson as the Japanese and the Germans learned it long ago. You can hit America by surprise and get in several good blows, usually by underhanded means. But in the end, America will arise victorious as the last nation standing.
Lu Po, the hero of the San Francisco raid, had returned to where he and his White Tiger Commandos had originally landed in Alaska. It was a cold day, with the wind blowing and snow swirling.
Rumors had already made the rounds that Admiral Ling was angry. The Americans had struck at the fleet, sinking two carriers. Many Chinese fighters had also crashed into the ocean. Others were heavily damaged. Perhaps as bad, Lu had heard that a fuel tanker had gone up in flames during the attack, as had two munitions vessels. That had increased nervousness in High Command about the continued American harassment-attacks on the Kenai supply lines.
In his snow-camouflaged combat suit, Lu presently stood under evergreens near the road as several of his Commandos threw ropes over the lowest and heaviest branches. Four Americans knelt nearby, two of them teenage boys. There was a woman among them, the reason his men were only using three ropes. His team would take the woman to a detention center.
Lu glanced at the Americans on their knees in the snow. One was much older, the father likely. Yes, one of the boys and the woman resembled the old man. The father whispered earnestly to the three youngsters. The smallest had tears in his eyes. He was the weakling of the group. The older teenager glared at the White Tigers. That one had fire. All of them, including the woman, had their hands tied behind their backs. These four were partisans, formerly armed with civilian weapons. There had been a Colt .45, a Winchester lever-action and two Remington shotguns. Lu had been amazed at the amount of ammunition each of the Americans had been carrying.
The four had poured sugar into the gas tanks of several trucks and shot at Chinese soldiers. There had been far too much sabotage lately. Even before the American air strike on the fleet, High Command had become concerned, especially with the continued attack on supply dumps and trucks.
Even better, partisan-hunting behind the front meant he didn’t have to face professional soldiers but these winter warriors. Look, the smaller boy was crying aloud as his tears dripped to the snow. The boy and the father should have thought of that before they dared pick up rifles against the occupation.
Lu filled his lungs with cold air. He saw that everything was ready, so Lu Po snapped his fingers.
White Tigers lifted the three males to their feet and chased them with bayonets to the ropes. The youngest screamed, and struggled to free his hands. The father spoke even more urgently to that one.
“It’s too late for that,” Lu said, as he strode to them.
Several White Tigers threw nooses around the three necks.
“Don’t hang my little brother!” the oldest teenager shouted.
Lu snapped his fingers.
White Tigers pulled, hoisting the three gurgling partisans into the air as their legs kicked.
The red-haired woman, with tears streaking down her cheeks, watched in horror. Then she stared at the White Tigers staring at her.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” she whispered.
Before Lu could answer, his belt-computer beeped. He unclipped it and checked his messages. There was another, more dangerous partisan band fifty kilometers from here. Command wanted his White Tigers to take care of it. There were helicopters coming to pick them up, but no one to take the woman to a detention center.
Lu clipped the small device back to his belt and regarded the woman. “You will have your wish,” he said.
