nervous anymore.
“Coming up on our final turn,” Colin said eleven minutes later.
“Aye,” Jiltanith said softly.
Her voice was dreamy, for Colin wasn’t quite real for her just now. Reality was her dagger—sleek fighter, for she was one with it, seeing and feeling through its sensors. Yet he felt the intensity of her purpose and the cat- sharp clarity of her awareness through his own feeds, and he was content.
They swept through the turn, settling into the groove for the attack run, and Geb and Tamman fell astern, increasing their separation as planned.
The huge private estate in the deep, bowl—like valley north of Cuernavaca was the true HQ of both Black Mecca and the Army of Allah in the Americas, though only a very few terrorists knew it. That made it a major operational node, one of the three juiciest targets MacMahan and Jiltanith had been able to identify. Over forty southerners and two hundred of their most trusted Terra-born allies were based there, coordinating a hemisphere’s terrorism, and the estate’s seclusion hid a substantial amount of Imperial equipment. A successful attack on such a target would certainly seem to justify an immediate strike report to their own HQ.
But there was another fractor in MacMahan’s target selection. The “estate’s” geography made it an ideal target for mass missiles, for the valley walls would confine the blast effect and channel it upward. The northerners expected the use of such weapons to come as a considerable shock to Anu, for they would provoke consternation and furious speculation among the vast majority of Earth’s people, and attention was the one thing both groups of Imperials had assiduously avoided for centuries. If anything could convince Anu
Yet the very importance of the target also meant a greater possibility of serious defenses. If enemy fighter opposition appeared, it was up to Geb and Tamman to pick it off if they could; if they couldn’t, theirs became the far grimmer task of playing decoy to suck the southerners off Colin and onto themselves, and…
“Shit!” Colin muttered, and Jiltanith stiffened beside him as he shunted information to her through a side feed. There were active Imperial scanners covering the target. At their present speed, those scanners would burn through their stealth field in less than five minutes.
Colin tightened internally as he and his computers raced to determine what those scanners reported to. If it was only an observation post, they’d be onto the target before anyone could react, but if there were automatic defenses…
“Double shit!” he hissed. There were, indeed, automatic defenses—and three fighters on stand—by for launch, though three ships were no indication of an alert. There were at least ten of the little buggers down there; if they’d anticipated an attack, all ten would have been spotted for immediate launch. He and Jiltanith had simply had the infernal bad luck to happen upon the scene when someone was readying for a routine flight. Possibly Kirinal was going somewhere in one of those fighters and the other two were escorts; that fitted normal southern operational procedures.
But it meant the base was at a higher state of readiness than usual, and there were those automatics. He could “see” at least four missile batteries and two heavy energy weapon emplacements, which was far more than their intelligence estimates had suggested.
His thoughts flickered so quickly they were almost unformed, yet Jiltanith caught them. He felt her disappointment like his own. These were the people who had sent Girru and Anshar to butcher Cal’s family and Sean and Sandy, but their orders for this contingency were clear.
“We’ll have to abort,” Colin remarked, yet even as he said it his neural link was bringing his systems fully on line.
“Aye, so we shall.” Yet Jiltanith’s course never deviated, and he felt her mental touch poised to ram the drive’s power level through the red line.
“They’ll burn through a good twenty seconds before I get a targeting setup,” he said absently.
“Nay, ’twill be no more than ten seconds ere thy weapons range,” she demurred.
“Hah! Now you’re an EW specialist, too, huh?” Then he shrugged. “Screw it. Full bore right down the middle, Jiltanith. Go for the weapons first.”
“As thou sayst, Captain,” Jiltanith purred, and the fighter shrieked upward like a homesick meteor.
For just a second, acceleration drove Colin back into his couch, but then the drive field peaked, the G forces vanished, and he felt the shockwave of alarm sweep through the southerners’ enclave. The automatic air- defense systems were already reaching for them, but his own systems had come alive a moment sooner; by the time the weapons started hunting the fighter, its defensive programs were already filling the night sky with false images. Decoys streaked away, singing their siren songs, and jammers hashed the scan channels with the fold- space equivalent of white noise.
The ground stations’ scanners were more powerful and their electronic brains were bigger and smarter than his small onboard computers, but they’d started at a disadvantage. They had to sort the situation out before they could find a target, and it was a race between them and their human controllers and Colin and the speeding fighter’s targeting systems.
There was no time to think, no room for anything but concentration, yet kaleidoscope images flared at the edges of his brain. The brighter strobes of panic when one ground station seemed to have found them. The impossible, wrenching maneuver with which Jiltanith threw it off. The relief when they slipped away before it could establish a lock. His own racing excitement. The determination and intensity that filled his pilot. His own savage blaze of satisfaction as his launch solution suddenly came magically together.
His first salvo leapt away. Hyper-capable missiles were out of the question in atmosphere; they would take too much air into hyper with them, wrecking his mass-power calculations and bringing them back into normal space God alone knew where, but mass missiles were another matter. Their over-powered gravitonic drives slammed them forward, accelerating instantly to sixty percent of light speed, crowding the edge of phase lock. Counter-missile defenses did their best, but the mass missiles’ speed and the short range meant tracking time was too limited even for Imperial systems, and Colin heard Jiltanith’s panther howl of triumph as his strike went home.
Fireballs blew into the night. Mass missiles carried no warheads, for they needed none. They were energy states, not projectiles, hyper-velocity robotic meteorites, shrieking down on precise trajectories to seek out the ground weapons that menaced their masters.
The small shield generators protecting the southerners’ weapons were still spinning up when Colin’s missiles arrived, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d already been at full power. In fifty-one millennia, the notherners had never risked escalating their struggle to the point of using Imperial weaponry so brazenly, and the southerners had assumed they never would. Their defensive measures were aimed at Terrestrial weapons or the relatively innocuous Imperial ones the northerners had used in the past, and they were fatally inadequate.
Jiltanith snapped the fighter around as the Jovian holocaust spewed skyward behind them. A bowl of fire glared against the night-struck Mexican hills, and Colin’s computers were already evaluating the first strike. Weak as they were, the base’s shields had absorbed a tremendous amount of energy before they failed—enough to keep the missiles from turning the entire estate into one, vast crater—and one heavy energy gun emplacement had escaped destruction. It raved defiance at them, and Jiltanith accepted the challenge as she came back like the angel of death, driving into its teeth.
The radiant heat of the first missile strike, added to the frantic efforts of the fighter’s ECM, denied the targeting scanners lock, and the guns were on pre-programmed blind fire, raking the volume of space that ought to contain the fighter. But Jiltanith wasn’t where the people who’d designed that fire program had assumed she would have to be, and Colin felt a detached sort of awe for her raw flying ability as he popped off another missle.
Unlike the fighter, the energy weapons couldn’t bob and weave. The missile sizzled home, and a fresh burst of fury defiled the earth.
Jiltanith came around for a third pass, two more than their ops plan had called for or considered safe, and the ground defenses were silent. Despite the shields’ best efforts, the weapon emplacements were huge, raw wounds, and the entire valley floor was a sea of blazing grass and trees, touched to flame by thermal radiation. The palatial estate’s buildings were flaming rubble, but the real installations hidden under them, though damaged, were still intact.
One of the ready fighters was already clawing upward, but Colin ignored it. He had all the time in the world, and his final launch was textbook perfect. A spread of four missiles bracketed the target, streaking the fire
