body armor. Everyone did, including the Lieutenant.
Oh-oh, what was this? Jake spied movement on his scroll. “Goose,” he said.
Goose poked his head out of a hole in the side of the trench. The man was gaunt and dirty. They all were. Goose had the far-off stare in his eyes. They all had that too, including the Lieutenant.
“What’s up?” Goose asked.
Jake pointed toward the enemy line.
“I thought it was your turn,” Goose said.
Jake shook his head.
Goose crawled out of the small cave. He used the steps, climbing up to the machine gun platform.
“They’re getting clever,” Jake said. “It’s a robot. I’ve never seen one like this. Mark seven-three-seven.”
Goose checked his tablet, nodding as he tucked the device away in a cavity in his body armor. He exhaled, blowing out white steam. Then he grabbed the butterfly controls and surged upward.
Jake watched on the computer scroll as the heavy machine gun chattered hard. Bullets whizzed across no-man’s-land, hammering at the target. The small, turtle-like robot blew out metal parts. A gun appeared from its turret, but he steel-jacketed .50 caliber bullets didn’t give the Chinese robot time to fire. The robot scout stopped, frozen in time.
“Down!” shouted Jake.
Goose ducked, moving the machine gun mount down with him.
Seconds later, the hiss of enemy bullets came from overhead.
“Let’s move,” Jake said.
They ran along the trench with their shoulders hunched. Enemy mortar shells landed, exploding ice, snow and dirt. Particles trickled into the trench.
“You’re welcome,” Jake muttered to no one in particular, with his back now pressed against the freezing dirt wall.
“When is this going to end?” Goose asked.
“You’re one to talk,” Jake said. “You’re a protester. You got to prove you love your country by bleeding to death in the snow.”
Neither said a word afterward. They endured, as everyone in the pocket waited for the end. The big question was how. Would they freeze to death when the wood ran out? Or would they starve to death? If it became too much suspense, one could climb up into no-man’s-land. Many had. That would end the game quickly.
At this point in the siege, all the quitters were long gone, dead or captured. The hardened survivors waited, inurned to terrible punishment and deprivation.
CENTENNIAL, COLORADO
Commander Bao of MC ABM #3 scowled so fiercely his eyes had almost disappeared between two slits. The angry face was not due to the orders to move out. He was sick of the city siege and sick of using his great laser to blast strongpoints. The scowl was not because of the cold weather that refused to let up.
No, he made the terrible face because his ulcer hurt abominably. He was out of the soothing bottle. He’d drunk the last of it yesterday and the quartermaster said there wouldn’t be another consignment for some time. The Americans had sunk the supply ship that carried more.
Therefore, Bao was in agony as he sat in the giant tractor cab that pulled the three segments of his Mobile Canopy ABM. He looked out the window, but hardly saw a thing. The sun shone, so his lack of sight wasn’t due to falling snow. He hardly saw because the ulcer pain was beginning to overmaster him.
Bao opened his mouth, panting silently.
The driver must have noticed. “Is something wrong, Commander?” the man asked, sounding worried.
Bao shook his head. He didn’t want to speak and let the man hear the pain in his voice. He put his forehead against the cool glass of the passenger-side window. He wanted the aching to stop, but he couldn’t let himself think about it. He had a great task to perform. Marshal Liang himself had spoken to all the MC ABM commanders via computer screen.
Bao understood how important his next fight would be. China had the T-66 tank, and the Americans had trumped it with the Behemoth. Now Marshal Liang wished to trump the American marvel with one of Chinese’s latest technological inventions.
As Bao panted silently, he realized that he hadn’t trained in tank tactics. None of the MC ABM commanders had. This was a makeshift use of a great air-defense laser.
We used our lasers in Denver and it gave the city to the Army. Now we must deliver our Army from a surprise attack.
Bao realized his mother must have seen this moment long ago in her dreams. Why else had she always told him to do his best? The fate of the great invasion—Liang had told them—rested on the coming fight. The lasers must defeat the rail-guns.