The major stiffened as he stood at the comm-table, hearing General Pi personally give the order. The major took three steps toward the technicians, shouting, “Is the missile ready?”
“It is ready,” the chief tech said.
“Put in these coordinates,” the major said, pressing a button on his console.
The techs made adjustments and then signaled that they were set.
“Fire!” the major shouted.
The chief tech tapped a screen.
The Blue Swan ignited on its launch pad as smoke billowed densely. The EMP missile lofted slowly at first and then quickly gained speed. It roared as flames flickered from its exhaust port. Then it shot toward the highway where the Behemoths smashed everything in their path.
“How much farther until we reach Escondido?” Jose asked from his gunner’s seat.
“A little less than a mile,” Stan said.
There were nine Behemoths left. None had dropped out due to battle damage. For each, it was equipment failure, usually in the treads or the engine. The stalled Behemoths were already on their carriers and headed back toward Temecula.
Behind the advancing Behemoths and Abrams, Bradleys and Strykers followed the heavy trucks and haulers. From a recon UAV, the mass looked like a giant mechanical snake slithering toward the trapped pocket.
“Captain,” Colonel Wilson radioed. The man sounded worried.
“What is it, sir?” Stan asked.
“Get ready! The Chinese are sending cruise missiles!”
“Are they nukes, sir?” asked Stan.
“That is unknown, but they’re coming fast. You have a minute or two left.”
“Are the tac-lasers ready, sir?”
“Captain, they’re going to swamp us!”
“No,” Stan said, knowing Wilson knew better. “We’ve been waiting for this, remember? It’s time to employ our special tactic and teach the Chinese another reason why they shouldn’t mess with the Behemoths.”
“But if they’re using nuclear weapons—”
“Let’s fight, sir, and worry about the results later.”
“I hope this works, Higgins. Colonel Wilson, out.”
“Yeah, me too,” Stan whispered. “Jose!”
“Right here, Professor.”
“Raise the cannon. It’s time to see just how good these Behemoths really are.”
On I-15, a little less than half a mile from the forward line of the trapped Americans, the nine Behemoth tanks raised their force cannons. The ejected shells flew many times faster than a rifle bullet, and the shells could fly in a relatively flat trajectory.
The Behemoth AIs linked with the tac-laser defensive net, and several extra UAVs were already sending data. All the while, the Chinese cruise missiles bored in on the Behemoths.
Ninety-eight seconds later the mayhem began. Cruise missiles approached and laser beams flashed. Flak fired and chain-guns chugged. Even more impressively, the force cannons shot cruise missiles out of the sky from long range, well before the missiles detonated their warheads.
One enemy missile acted much differently than the others, and it came last in the attack. This missile did not try to hug the ground as it approached the Behemoths. Instead, it flew upward to increase the range of its EMP strike.
Inside Stan’s Behemoth, he said, “Look at that, Jose. It’s going for an airburst. The missile must be a nuke. Take it out.”
The giant cannon swiveled. The AI fired a targeting laser and computed the missile’s height, speed and future position several seconds from now. Automatically, the AI fired the force cannon and the Behemoth shuddered as the round sped skyward.
Meanwhile, the Blue Swan reached its desired position. Within it, the computer triggered the firing mechanism. The first explosion occurred which would initiate the EMP burst.
At that moment, the Behemoth’s round smashed the Blue Swan missile. Instead of creating an EMP blast, the missile disintegrated in the air, the pieces raining down as useless junk.
As quickly as the missile attack had begun it was over. Several cruise missiles had reached their targets, but the rest were destroyed. The cost was several burning tac-lasers and chain-gun platforms with their accompanying crews, but not one Behemoth was lost.
In their slow and relentless rumble, the nine giant tanks continued toward Escondido.
Marshal Nung stared at the computer table, blinking in astonishment. “Did you witness that?” he whispered. “The tank destroyed our missile.”
“What now?” Gang asked.
Nung looked up. It felt as if his eyes were on fire. He struck the computer table. “Nothing changes.”
“Everything changes,” Gang said. “You have failed to halt their breakthrough.”
“Ah, I see. One failure shatters your resolve—how truly pitiful.”
Marshal Gang stiffened, while those in the command chamber at their various stations showed shock and surprise at the insult.
Nung looked away. He must control his temper and tongue no matter what the provocation. He could not speak this way to a fellow marshal. Word of it would filter back to the Ruling Committee and they might see it as him cracking under the strain of command. Even so, it was impossible that he apologize to Gang, to this tool of his enemies.
Nung shook his head and he faced the others. “In war, many attacks fail. The one that succeeds is the critical assault. This setback has done nothing to alter my will or change the ultimate fate of the Americans.”
“Have I heard you correctly?” Gang asked. “Formerly, you said that trapping the Americans was the linchpin to your plan as you starved the enemy of needed troops. Now, with the failure of the Blue Swan missile, the enemy has broken through to Army Group SoCal. He will be able to reinforce his defenses with these badly needed soldiers.”
Nung massaged his forehead, struggling to maintain his decorum. “In an instance like this, precision is vital in deed and word. The Americans have only broken through to this northernmost pocket; they have not broken through to the entire Army Group SoCal.”
“Perhaps that is so,” Gang said, “but this is the largest of the trapped pockets.”
Nung studied the computer table, the operational map. The lights on the side were all blue, indicting everything worked properly. In his thoughts, he put aside Gang and his words and concentrated on the military and strategic situation. After a time, he began to speak. “With these giant tanks, the Americans have broken through. That is true. But it will be another matter entirely to escape with these soldiers into Los Angeles.”
“You are the eternal optimist,” Gang said. “It is one of your military gifts. Yet I would suggest that you are underestimating the importance of this attack. I fear it might begin a chain-reaction of assaults against the other beleaguered forces, the other pockets, as you call them?”
Nung raised an eyebrow. The suggestion was preposterous. It was mere rhetoric, wind. He had no time for Ruling Committee gadflies, even if Gang was the second-most senior marshal in Greater China after Kao. He had a campaign to win. This was a setback, nothing more. With the giant tanks down here in Escondido, it meant they no longer helped guard Palm Springs. He would have to make the Americans pay for that. In fact, looking at the operational map…yes, he knew what to do. This reminded him of Siberia, of the drive to Yakutsk. Once more, he must outflank the enemy.
“We must call Marshal Kao,” Gang said.
Nung looked up in surprise. He was forming a plan and had already forgotten about Gang. “If you will excuse me, Marshal, I have no more time for handwringing. The Americans have handed us a rare opportunity. We must snatch it while there is still time. Yes, they have stolen a march on us. It was clever of them and it was bold. Now, I plan to use their boldness against them like a Shaolin priest practicing kung fu on a pirate.”
Gang opened his mouth, and hesitated. He glanced around the room. Perhaps he saw the command
