“Ah, yes,” Xiao said. “That is succinctly put, Leader. Yet if I may be so bold, I would like to tell you about Marshal Kao’s charts. It outlines—”
Jian began shaking his head. “I have seen Kao’s precious charts. I have also witnessed Nung’s continued advance and the tens of thousands of Americans marching into captivity. Perhaps I will even keep some here next to my polar bears.”
Xiao chuckled politely, a false noise like a sitcom’s laugh track.
“The fact is,” Jian said, “that Marshal Nung will soon capture Corona. Ah, you no doubt didn’t believe I followed the situation as carefully as that, but I attend a daily briefing on the battle. Our Nung will bottle the Americans that the giant tanks freed from the Escondido Pocket.”
“And if he fails in that, Leader?”
Jian looked away. He didn’t care for the Police Minister’s insistence in this. “As long as Marshal Nung advances, I will support him. The man has an iron will when it comes to devising ways of outmaneuvering the enemy.”
“Yes, I see. If I may ask one more question, Leader?”
“Speak,” Jian said, letting a hint of annoyance enter his voice.
Xiao hesitated once more before saying, “What if Marshal Nung destroys the sword you’ve given him as he dashes it against a rock-like defense?”
“Hmm…that was well said. Yes, I must consider such a possibility, shouldn’t I? Are you suggesting we halt the offensive?”
“No,” Xiao replied. “But I urge you to give Marshal Kao’s analysis greater weight. Perhaps Nung is correct and the Americans are on the verge of collapse. We have killed and captured the majority of them in Southern California. If he captures the state and if he carves out the entire Western Coast, then he would be a hero of the people. But if he destroys the sword you’ve given him, Leader, he will have become a veritable devil to our great cause.”
Jian thought about that as he watched one of the cubs nursing. Could Kao be right? Nung was such a fighter, a real fire-eater. The man had told the Ruling Committee in advance that his armies would sustain heavy casualties during this battle. Hadn’t the others been listening? This…situation wasn’t a surprise. Well, maybe the broad extent of the losses was rather grim. But China possessed young men in abundance, eager to win marriage permits. Joining the military was one of the quickest ways to do so. There were always more hungry young men to feed the furnace of war.
Jian faced the lip-wetting Xiao. Truly, that was a disgusting habit. “Police Minister, Marshal Nung fights, and China needs a fighter, as North American cannot be conquered any other way. As long as he advances, I will support him. Now, if you will excuse me?”
Xiao bowed at the waist and he bowed deeply. “Thank you for your time, Leader.”
“No, I thank you for your forthrightness, old friend. Now, I bid you a good day.”
Colonel Wilson stood in the top hatch of his Behemoth. The monster clattered and clanked at twenty-five mph. It tore up the freeway, spewing concrete chunks behind the treads.
A few Strykers acted as scouts, roaming ahead on the freeway. Thirteen M1A3 Abrams roared behind the Strykers but ahead of the Behemoths. Behind Wilson’s five experimental tanks followed Bradley Fighting Vehicles. These also carried extra ammo and battery supplies for the Behemoth tanks. Interspaced among the heavier vehicles were Humvee Avengers carrying Blowdart anti-air missiles.
This was a suicide run, a desperation gambit by SoCal Command to halt the Chinese assault toward Corona —at least for a little while. The formation came up from the south toward Riverside, if nothing else, to destroy the Chinese supply line feeding the assault units heading toward Corona.
America needed time to get the soldiers out of Escondido and Temecula. Then command needed time to set the men into strong defensive positions in Greater Los Angeles and rearm them with supplies rushed west through the Sierra Nevada passes.
The Chinese had to know the Behemoths were coming. Wilson was surprised that so far the enemy hadn’t—
He put a hand on his headphone. “Sir,” his comm-officer inside the Behemoth told him. “I have word from SoCal Command. Chinese aircraft are on their way.”
Wilson slid down from the hatch, closing it with a clang. The Avengers were useful, but they weren’t tac- lasers and couldn’t handle a truly concentrated air attack. No. Today, as Captain—as Major Higgins had shown earlier, the Behemoths would have to provide the chief anti-air defense with their amazing electromagnetic cannons.
Wilson strapped himself into his commander’s seat. He was surrounded by screens and knew the Behemoth to be the most advanced tank the world had ever seen. Science fiction novels had predicted tanks like this. His father used to read to him. He remembered the Bolo stories by Keith Laumer. These tanks weren’t sentient like those in the series, but the internal AI gave them yet another edge over the Chinese.
Wilson had listened to Higgins before telling the other officers about the superior Chinese equipment during the Alaskan War. This time, it was different. Yet now they were throwing away these marvelous tanks in a seemingly futile effort.
“Sir,” the comm-officer said. “The Chinese appear to be using drones. And it looks as if they have stand-off bombers behind them.”
Wilson nodded. The American Air Force had taken a terrible beating in the earliest phase of the war. It was unconscionable the U.S. lacked air superiority over its own land. Yet such was the case here. The Chinese, Japanese and Korean factories simply poured out too much materiel. It was the reverse of World War II, where America had swamped the Axis Powers through abundant supplies, materiel and hard fighting by tough soldiers.
“Link the defensive net,” Wilson ordered.
“Yes sir.”
The Behemoths slowed, and the Humvee Avengers circled the big tanks. The engine revved and the huge monster began to shake with power.
Four minutes later, the attack began as Chinese UCAVs roared at treetop level, with their main cannons chugging shells and other drones firing air-to-ground missiles.
The nearest Avengers fired as Blowdart after Blowdart hissed out of the tubes and rocketed at the enemy.
“I’m switching over air command to the AI, sir.”
Wilson rubbed his mouth nervously. It was a strange feeling giving the Behemoth control on the weapon systems. He had never gotten used to that. It made him feel like a mouse inside a steel trap.
“Yes, switch over command,” Wilson said.
The turret swiveled, the cannon adjusted and the
Wilson watched on his screens. It was incredible. The drones bored in, chugging shells at them. The Behemoth 30mm cannons fired defensively and the flechette launchers filled the air with clouds of metal.
A heavier air-to-ground missile appeared. It must have come from a standoff bomber. Yes, the drones were a shield for the more dangerous aircraft: how very elementary and yet clever of the enemy. An M1A3 exploded, rocking the seventy-ton vehicle as both sets of treads peeled away. The Bradleys joined the Avengers and fired anti-air missiles.
Wilson clenched his jaws so tightly that the muscles hinging them throbbed with the effort. A drone disintegrated, pieces of it raining like hail. Then three more blew up.
Inside the tank, the turret swiveled fast with its electric motors. The cannon adjusted yet again and the great tank repeatedly shuddered. Like duck hunters gone wild, the five Behemoths blew down the drones. In some cases, they reached out twenty miles and destroyed fleeing bombers.
“Five Abrams are gone,” the comm-officer informed him.
“Keep advancing,” Wilson said. “We’re not going to stop the Chinese if we stand still.”
“Cruise missiles!” the comm-officer shouted.
“It’s all up to the AIs now,” Wilson said, speaking much more calmly than he felt.
The engine revved, thrumming so his bones shook, and Wilson wondered if that had occurred because the AI
