The navigator went to work and soon he appeared to have forgotten about the Reflex, long-distance, laser-bouncing interceptors.
CHEYENNE, WYOMING
U.S. Army Group West Headquarters was a bustle of activity and noise. Officers spoke into phones. Coffee steamed from Styrofoam cups and operators scanned their screens. It all took place in a large chamber, with nearly fifty people present.
Big Tom McGraw tapped his fingers on a console. Pilots and drone operators had just beaten off a night attack on Denver. The Chinese had stormed the city in force, yet according to reports, they had done little damage.
He didn’t understand these smash-your-way-in assaults so far. It seemed too wasteful of Chinese assets. It had given the enemy ground fast, and it had moved the city battle forward sooner than he wanted. He understood why so few enemy tanks had appeared. The Chinese had also unleashed their northern offensive at the same time, and needed them there on the open plains.
They’re trying to do two things at once. They heading north and they’re trying to swamp us here, and they’re coming damn near to it, too.
Would he get the East Coast reinforcements in time? It almost felt as if the Chinese knew his plan. They were trying to finish the war now. Something troubled him, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
Scowling, General McGraw continued to tap the console.
“Sir,” the Air Chief said.
McGraw looked up. The Joint Forces Air Component Commander, JFACC or Air Chief for short, was a slender man and wore a silk scarf around his neck. The general reminded Tom of the early pilots of WWI, those daredevils of the sky. The Air Chief didn’t look reckless now. He looked worried.
Is this why I’ve been feeling nervous all night?
“What do you have for me?” McGraw asked.
The Air Chief motioned to an Air Force operator and then beckoned McGraw to a desk screen. “I’d like you to look at this, sir.”
McGraw strode to the desk screen, staring down at it. Instead of a churning stomach, he felt relief. Finally, I know what my opposite number is up, too. You’re a clever bastard, Liang.
Looking up at the Air Chief, McGraw said, “Liang identified our weak link. Now we know why their fighter-bombers swarmed Denver and did so little damage. Their heavies are out trying to kill our supply artery. Better alert the I-70 air-defenses, if they aren’t already.”
“Sir, have you noticed the number of Heron stand-off bombers? If one of their missiles reaches one of the key tunnel entrances—I can’t guarantee you that won’t happen. These numbers—the Chinese have caught us with our pants down.”
“I understand the problem,” McGraw said. “Now tell me how you’re fixing it.”
“We’re scrambling fighters and drones, sir, but they’re not going to reach some of these places soon enough. We’re also lofting more Reflex interceptors. I’m sure you know that those take time to get into strategic laser position. We can make the Chinese suffer later, when they’re running for home. Stopping all of them now from hitting I-70…”
The Air Chief shook his head.
McGraw’s jaw muscles bulged. If the Chinese blasted enough tunnel entrances and bridges, it would be a total disaster. There were sufficient assets protecting I-70 to stop Ghosts and even a mid-size attack, but this—
McGraw remembered something, and whirled around. “Get me on the horn with Colonel Higgins of the Behemoth Regiment. We may have an answer for this.”
FORWARD EDGE OF THE BATTLE AREA, COLORADO
The first launch order came. Captain Tzu had been waiting for it the last two minutes. This was the reason his bomber had lumbered off the runway earlier tonight. With a decisive movement, he yanked a lever.
The entire Heron shook. A moment later, the bomber lifted higher. Outside, he knew, the clamps on the pylons had released, and a big Goshawk drone had dropped away. It fell fifty meters before the turbojets kicked on.
From other Herons dropped more drones. A few winked silvery in the moonlight. Their turbojets belched orange flares into the night. It was a sign of strength, of coming destruction.
Tzu decreased airspeed. He wasn’t looking at the moon anymore, but at the drones. Their Goshawk climbed higher and well ahead of them. It was remote-controlled, likely from a trailer in Pueblo, Colorado. The many drones gathered in their destination-teams. They would be the aircraft to zero in on I-70. The drones would battle their way in if they had to, hammering bridges and tunnel entrances.