Stan slid back down to his seat. “Fire in a spread around our target,” he said. “Do it one right after the other. We have to hit one of those bastards or we’re all dead.”
Surge after surge powered out of the Behemoth. Each penetrator roared across the distance at Mach 10. Each missed except for the last. It hammered into the MPT trailer, cutting through the armor with ease. A terrific explosion caused the armored compartment to blow apart in a glorious and billowing geyser. It knocked out the first MC ABM on the enemy side.
Inside his tank, Colonel Stan Higgins led the cheering. “Keep doing that!” he shouted. He picked up the microphone and called the other commanders, telling them what he’d just done. He wanted them to barrage-fire into an area, hoping that one of the penetrators hit the targeted MC ABMs.
FORWARD EDGE OF THE BATTLE AREA, COLORADO
Captain Tzu took the Heron down low. With the other seven bombers, he roared at the American Behemoths. The order had finally come through.
“Tracking,” the navigator said.
Tzu pulled a lever. The standoff bomber shuddered. One of its big air-to-ground missiles detached from the bay and dropped. Its rocket engine fired and the missile shot toward the distant Behemoths, quickly gaining speed.
Tzu did the same thing again, dropping another missile.
“Captain!” the bomb specialist shouted. He monitored the Heron’s defensive gear.
Tzu looked back at the man.
“Americans missiles—”
The bomb specialist never had a chance to finish his sentence. A flock of anti-air missiles arrived from the Jefferson MBTs nearest the Herons.
An anti-air missile struck the left side, hitting the planet at the joint between the fuselage and wing. The warhead ignited, tearing the wing from the plane and creating a huge hole.
Captain Tzu looked through the opening. Then the Heron turned on its wounded side and began to plunge earthward. Tzu’s seatbelt held him in place. It felt like a hot poker had thrust through his gut. The fuselage began to spin faster and faster. He had been right about the law of averages. One of these times, the Americans would hit and destroy his bomber.
Centrifugal force rendered Tzu unconscious seconds before the Heron plowed into the pristine snow and exploded in a fiery ball of destruction.
AURORA, COLORADO
Commander Bao clamped his hands to his headphones/mufflers. The whine of the MPT had risen to another pitch of unbearable. A hazy fume of smoke drifted through the main compartment.
The laser had operated much longer than it ever had during the Siege of Denver. Things were going wrong with the turbine and the laser coils had begun to overheat.
“Destruction!” the targeting officer said.
“We’ve destroyed two Behemoths,” Bao told the crew. Despite the smoke, the ulcer and the pounding in his head, Bao was proud. He had achieved greatness. He had destroyed two American super-tanks.
“Shut down the turbine,” he said. “We’re moving out.”
The targeting officer cast him a sharp glance. Other crewmembers shot him a look of relief.
“Is something wrong?” Bao asked the targeting officer.
The unbearable whine lessened and then went off altogether.
Bao shoulder muscles loosened.
“We haven’t received orders to move,” the targeting officer said. “We—”
“Ballistic missiles!” a crewmember shouted.
Bao snapped to his screens. Ah, the Americans attacked with missiles.
“Start up the turbine,” he said.
The turbine chief tapped the switch. He did it again because nothing appeared to happen the first time.
“Start it up now,” Bao said.
The man swiveled toward him. “It won’t start, Commander. It’s overheated.”
“Use override,” Bao said.
The man typed on his screen and began shaking his head. “We must have burned out the override system,” the man said.
Bao licked his lips nervously.
“You shouldn’t have shut off the turbine,” the targeting officer said.
Bao gave the man a withering glance. Who was he to give him a reprimand?
“Commander Bao,” his superior officer said from a screen. “Do you see the incoming ballistic missiles?”
“The turbine has overheated and won’t come back online,” Bao said.
The superior blinked at him. “You must fire at them.”
“I cannot,” Bao said. “I do wish to report two Behemoth kills, however.”
“Start your turbine!” the superior shouted.
Commander Bao shook his head. “It is inoperative. I suggest I move back out of range for repairs.”
The superior stared at him a full three seconds. “Yes!” he shouted. “Do it.”
Bao didn’t glance at the targeting officer. That would seem too much like gloating. Instead, he informed the tractor driver to engage his vehicle’s drive system and take them down behind this hill.
His part in the battle was over.
I-70, COLORADO
Colonel Higgins wanted to weep. He’d lost seven Behemoths so