16s. A bank of radar-controlled Gatling guns on swiveling turrets along the bow of the Excalibur fired in tandem, managing to knock out the first of the inbound projectiles.
The second missile skipped across the flight deck and exploded near the closed hangar bulkhead. The third flew over the flight deck and hit the superstructure square-on. A tremble vibrated across the bridge.
Jon's eyepiece found the appropriate camera. His inspection of the damage saw it as superficial. It would take much more to penetrate the thick hide of a dreadnought.
The cluster of six missiles he had rapid-fired from Sparrow tubes Bow 1 and Bow 2 chased after The Cooperative's F-16s. Those planes banked hard and flew fast for the safety of their Stealth Field.
Jon watched on both radar and telescope.
The missiles closed. The planes ran like antelope from lions.
C'mon, c'mon…
The three blips disappeared from radar. Then the six tracking blips of the Sparrows also disappeared. Through his view finder, Jon saw the F-16s slow and change altitude. Now inside the dead zone, the Sparrows lost their radar track and flew off without guidance.
He announced for Trevor to hear, 'Damn, they made it back to their side before the missiles hit. They got away. I think…wait a second…'
From his position at the command station Jon monitored everything; a continual flow of information and images. One of those images came from a camera on the belly of the ship.
He saw them two miles out moving through crevices between mountain peaks, hugging the ground nearly hidden from view while their self-generating Stealth Fields hid them from electronic surveillance.
'INBOUND! Two Witiko Stingrays, starboard side contact in five seconds!'
The weapons officer repeated an order that the Brain sent electronically: 'Close support batteries to manual control. Gun crews, man your stations.'
With their stealth capability hiding the Stingrays from his scopes, Jon attempted to grab an infrared lock on the warships' rear thrusters.
The black and silver attack craft swooped up from the mountains like frenzied sharks swimming for the kill. The speed and agility of the Stingrays stood in stark contrast to the stationery bulk of the Excalibur.
High powered cannons fired in defense at the rate of thousands of rounds per minute, but without radar locks they could not do to the ships what they had done to the missiles.
In contrast, the Stingrays could not fail to hit. They raced toward the undercarriage of the dreadnought, pushed by twin rockets.
Once in the dreadnought's shadow, the attackers fired thick gold energy beams. As the ships moved so did their beams, cutting a path across the belly of the mechanical beast and penetrating the tough hide of Steel Plus. Sparks exploded from the slice, bursts of flames and smoke erupted from the lacerations carved in the hull.
The Stingrays turned off their weapons momentarily, stayed in parallel formation, adjusted their flight, and swung up and around the stern of the Excalibur.
They then flew sideways and cut two more slices into the rear of The Empire's flagship. This time the weapons pealed open the bulkhead on one of the Eagle landing pads and also tore a gash in an engine baffle.
In response, a bank of aft-mounted turrets sprayed rapid rounds across the first Stingray's port side, rupturing the ship's skin and causing a small explosion. Flakes of its metal skeleton blew off and the attacker rocked side to side like a boxer taken by a surprise upper cut.
The Stingrays nearly clipped the tower as they dove toward the flight deck. Their lasers blasted streaks in the runway causing smoke to rise from twin lines of seared steel.
Jon finally found his infrared lock. The Witiko must have received warning, for the two cruisers rocketed away at full power, dipping toward the mountains just as two heat-seekers streaked away from launch tubes.
One smacked into the rear of an enemy ship. An explosion tore away chunks of hull and knocked an engine off-line. The cruiser wobbled and, for a short moment, looked as if it might tumble from the sky. Instead, the Witiko craft righted itself and continued on, albeit at less velocity. The second heat seeker fell sucker to flares and exploded far away from its target as the Witiko attackers disappeared from sight. Around the bridge, alarm klaxons rung and technicians spoke in rushed voices as damage control parties and medics reported in. Jon-the Brain-re- opened the flight deck to gather his flock of wounded fighters. With the Air Boss in control of that operation, Jon removed his head set and turned to Trevor. 'Thunder flight reports bombing run ineffective. They say the base is well-defended against air attack.' Trevor kept his eyes staring forward. The first salvo in the war against California had ended in embarrassment.
Jon questioned, 'I suppose we should take in the dreadnoughts directly. Pound Beale with the boppers until they're nothing but dust.'
This time Stone did speak, first with a slow shake of his head then whispered words, 'No. That's exactly what the Witiko would expect. It's what they want. Two of those Stingrays cut us up pretty good and were on us before we knew it. We go into their space while the Stealth Field is still up and they'll mob us with jet plans, SAMS, and cruisers.'
'So then what?'
Trevor told Jon, 'Plan B.'
5. Plan B
Stonewall walked across Interstate 5, his eyes fixed on the trio of burning tanks. Black, oily smoke rose in plumes and intertwined as if dancing as they drifted into the overcast sky.
Two of his bodyguards followed but they said nothing. The only sounds other than the crackling and popping blazes came from the soft jingle of the General's sword as it swayed on his belt, and the dull thud of his boots on the pavement.
Garrett pulled off his hat and wiped a sleeve across his forehead but kept his eyes on the burning wrecks; funeral pyres for three tank crews courtesy of an enemy Super Cobra.
These were not the only such crematoriums. In two days of fighting, the Second Mechanized Division of Virginia lost a dozen tanks-nearly half their compliment-and an equal number of trucks, Humvees, and armored cars not to mention more than seventy soldiers killed and twice that number injured.
Of course, the optimists bragged that Stonewall's spearhead penetrated nearly forty miles into California, threatening The Cooperative's northern outpost at Weed. Not a lie, but not exactly the truth, either. Weed served as The Cooperative's only sizeable defensive line in the northern part of the state. In fact, McAllister had set up camp at Yreka-well inside California's northern border-days before hostilities began.
Captain Benny Duda approached on horseback. He hurried a salute to his CO although the latter refused to look away from the dead armor.
Stonewall spoke first, 'I wonder if this adventure would proceed more favorably if we had Dustin's Cavalry Brigade,' Garrett waved a hand toward the foothills on either side of the road. 'He would travel through the wilderness, away from this open highway, like we did in the early days. When we followed my vision. Or was it a dream? Whatever the truth, we did not travel on the main roads, we stayed in cover.'
'Yes, General. Things were different then, sir.'
Garrett's eyes widened. 'Oh yes. Much different. The times, as they say, have changed.'
'Dustin is still in Colorado, sir. He won't be joining us anytime soon.'
'Ah, yes, General Shepherd has use for Dustin there. Besides,' Stonewall watched his tanks burn and repeated in an acidic tone what Intelligence told him before the attack, 'we won't be needing him here.'
The first two days of fighting The Cooperative had been bad days. The advantages of California's Stealth Field generator out of Beale were easy to see on Interstate 5 that afternoon. They never knew the chopper approached until its missiles hit the armor.
'I'm sorry, Benny, you came here to tell me something not listen to my rambling.'
'Oh, um, yes, General. We've been ordered to send a detachment over toward Callahan.'
'Pardon me, but did you say Callahan?'
Stonewall knew the tiny gold-rush era town of Callahan rested approximately fifteen miles to the west on the
