Edge of Battle

not be official Mexican government vehicles. Gray scanned them again. “They look real enough to me,” he said, his voice definitely a bit more strained. “They look…hold on…they’re dismounting troops. I count…ten soldiers coming out of each vehicle carrying heavy packs and rifles.”

“We’re outgunned,” Jason said. “All we have is small arms and the CID units against three APCs and a platoon of infantry. It’s no better than even right now, and if we lost the CID unit, we’d be toast in minutes. Ben, better organize your security forces and stand by for action.” Gray blanched slightly and hurried off.

“‘Lost the CID units’? What are you talking about, Jason?” Kelsey asked as Gray sprinted past her. “You think the Mexican army means to attack us?”

“I’m not assuming they’re Mexicans,” Jason said, “or if they are, they’re not part of the Mexican army.”

“Who do you think they…?” Kelsey stopped—she finally figured out who Jason was worried about. “You think they might be Consortium?”

“Yegor Viktorvich Zakharov was a pro in recruiting local military personnel and getting his hands on all sorts of military hardware, all over the world,” Jason said worriedly. “That slimebag recruited dozens of American military men and stole hundreds of millions of dollars of weaponry, including helicopters, armored vehicles, and even a multiple rocket launcher, to assault Washington, D.C., and the White House. The bastard even stole Secret Service uniforms and equipment and got his hands on the President of the United States himself during his attack on Washington. If he could do that, he can certainly get control of Mexican military hardware and personnel.” He clicked the mike button on his command transceiver. “Ari…”

“I’ve got a call in to Jefferson at the White House, J,” Ariadna said. “They told me to stand by. I’m sending Condor imagery to TALON headquarters at Cannon to see if we can identify any of those soldiers.”

“What do they think they’re going to do?” Kelsey asked. “Are they going to assault the base?”

“It’s a possibility,” Jason said. “If it’s the Consortium, and their attack is successful, they could throw the entire continent of North America into a terrorism panic.” He changed channels on his command transceiver. “CID One.”

“I’m receiving the downlink from the Condor,” Falcone responded. “I’m in the aircraft maintenance hangar. What’s the plan?”

“Stay out of sight until we see what they’re going to do,” Jason said.

“Wilco.”

“Break. CID Two.”

“I’ve got them on my datalink too, sir,” Sergeant First Class Harry Dodd, U.S. Army, piloting the second Cybernetic Infantry Device, responded. “I’m eight point seven miles east of Rampart One. I can be there in thirteen minutes.”

“Negative. Hold your position for now. You’re guarding our east flank. Sound off if you see anything going on.”

“Roger.”

“This might just be a show of force, or some kind of probe,” Kelsey said. “They must know about our CID units…” But she fell silent—she knew she could not afford to assume anything right now.

“Jason, we’re picking up air targets—slow-moving, probably helicopters,” Ariadna said. “Closest one is about six miles out.”

“Where from?”

“All sides—six from north of the border, two from the south,” the civilian Army engineer said.

This was quickly getting way out of hand, Jason thought, trying to choke down a growing bolus of panic rising in his chest. “Any air traffic control codes?”

“Stand by…” It was the longest wait Jason could recall in a long time. “Negative, Jason, negative on the air traffic codes,” Ari finally reported breathlessly. “I’ll try to coordinate their tracks with the Domestic Air Interdiction Coordination Center at March Air Force Base to find out where they’re from.” There was another interminable wait; then: “Jason, the DAICC duty officer just blew me off. He said, and I quote, ‘Tell Richter that his friends at the Border Patrol said unable at this time: don’t call us, we’ll call you.’”

“Jerks,” Jason said. “Put in a call to Los Angeles Center and Riverside Approach, request some kind of track correlation and point of origin, and tell them it’s urgent. And keep on broadcasting warning messages to stay at least five miles away from the base or they could be attacked without warning. If we can’t fight ’em, our only chance is to bullshit them. And radio Cannon and tell them to bring some weapon packs out here.”

“You got it, J.”

This was definitely starting to get tense. “Rampart One, TALON One, did you copy about our visitors?”

“Affirm,” Gray responded. “I’m briefing my security platoon now. Stand by.” A few moments later: “TALON One, my guys are recommending we take any infantry units that move in on us; have your CIDs take the armored personnel carriers, if they move in.”

“And the helicopters?”

“All we’ve got are small arms, sir,” Gray reminded him. “If they try a gunship air-to-ground attack, we’ll just have to hunker down, stay out of sight, and wait for the infantry to try to engage us. We’re relying on your robots to put the fear of God into them.”

“That’s exactly what we intend to do,” Jason said. “Break. CID Two, start heading back to Rampart One. Defend yourself using any means necessary.”

“CID Two copies,” Dodd responded.

“Break. Ari?”

“Still on hold with Los Angeles ARTCC,” Ariadna said. “The nearest helicopter is three miles out.”

“They’re ignoring the TFR,” Jason said. The TFR, or temporary flight restriction, was a cylinder of restricted airspace established around the base and the Condor airships to prevent aircraft from overflying them. The Condor airship had a civil aircraft transponder that broadcast identification signals to other aircraft to try to prevent a mid- air collision, since it was almost impossible for the unmanned Condors to maneuver out of another plane’s way. “Rampart One, they’re inside the TFR. Weapons tight until you see a gun, then repel all invaders.”

“Rampart One copies. All Rampart units, this is Rampart One, weapons tight, repeat, weapons tight. Sound off immediately if you see weapons or encounter hostile action. All squads acknowledge.”

“Inside two miles, J, bearing two-five-five,” Ari radioed.

Jason scanned the sky and saw a helicopter in the distance. “Got a visual,” he radioed on the command network. “Doesn’t look military—looks like a civilian aircraft, a Bell JetRanger or similar. Paint looks civilian.”

“Second aircraft bearing one-nine-five, two miles.”

“No contact,” he said. He swung around and focused on the first helicopter again. This was going to be a tough decision. If he guessed wrong, and the helicopter was hostile, it would open fire any second—but if it was not hostile, he’d have his men open fire on an unarmed aircraft. There really wasn’t any other choice—he just hoped to God he’d make the right one. “All Rampart units…dammit, weapons tight, repeat, weapons tight. It’s a civilian helicopter. Looks like it’s turning away.”

“Third aircraft bearing three-one-zero, two miles.”

“I got a visual on number three,” Gray radioed seconds later. “The sucker’s coming right for us.” Jason could now hear the third helicopter, and sweat broke out on his upper lip. “It’s moving in…it’s…shit, it’s a media helicopter. It says TV-12 on the underside. It looks like it has a zoom camera on the belly…I can see a TV logo on the side…I recognize that chopper. It’s a TV station chopper from San Bernardino.”

At that moment, Ariadna radioed: “J, just got the word from L.A. Center. They’re media helicopters—three from Los Angeles, two from San Diego, one from San Bernardino. The two on the Mexico side are also media, both from Tijuana.” It felt as if it was the first time in several minutes that Jason was able to take a normal breath. “L.A. Center asked one of them if they were aware of the TFRs in the area that they were headed directly for, and the pilots said no. L.A. Center told them to turn back, but…”

“But no TFR is going to get in the way of a good story,” Jason said. “Swell.”

“This is turning into a heck of a cluster-f—Well, you get the idea, J.” But Jason wasn’t in a joking mood. If he was a leader in the Consortium, this is precisely how he would organize a sneak attack: get a swarm of media aircraft overhead to confuse the scene, then strike. The three armored personnel carriers less than two miles away