two tremendous powers. One, its shells could blast through any armor on the battlefield. Two, it fired much more quickly than any tank cannon known.
The seventeen Behemoth tanks mercilessly shredded the nearly two hundred drones headed their way. Thirty drones died every seven seconds. Some Behemoth’s missed and others didn’t fire as fast.
The slaughter was magnificent and awe-inspiring to all who witnessed it on the American side. A solid chunk of the Chinese plan to take out I-70 failed in a minute of rarefied destruction.
But the battle for I-70 wasn’t over. Drones fought in other areas and the Herons still bored in toward the ribbon supply line.
THIRD FRONT HQ, COLORADO
Marshal Liang stared at the big screen in disbelief. A drone went down in flames, crashing into the side of a mountain and igniting. Evergreens began to burn like torches, sending up columns of smoke.
“The Americans have something new,” he told General Ping.
Ping had been working on a computer tablet. “Sir,” he said, “I beg to differ.”
Liang tore his gaze from the big screen and glanced at calm General Ping. “What have you discovered?”
“The rate of enemy fire,” Ping said. “I submit the Americans have new rail-gun anti-air weapons, or they employed Behemoth tanks.”
“In the Rocky Mountains?” Liang asked.
“High Command wondered where the Behemoth tanks hid. Now we know: near their manufacturing plant. It makes sense that they would defend it strongly.”
Liang nodded. “The Chairman’s information is accurate then.”
“It would appear so, sir,” Ping said.
“Denver must be their heart of power. Yes. The Chairman is correct. We must wrest this plant from the Americans.”
“The Chairman is always correct, sir.”
Without glancing around, Liang realized that personnel listened to their conversation. Some of those personnel could be East Lightning plants. It was wise to remember that.
“Yes, the Chairman is brilliant in his analysis,” Liang said. “The Behemoths—we must call off the attack.”
“The bombers are nearing firing position and the rest of the Goshawks—”
“Pull back!” Liang said. What had the Chairman informed them of? There were several Behemoth regiments, perhaps as many as one hundred giant tanks with rail-guns. Liang stood, and he spoke in a loud voice, “Radio the bombers and tell the drone operators to immediately flee south. We must escape the other rail-guns.”
“Sir?” Ping asked.
Liang turned to him. “This is a trap. I don’t know how, but the Americans knew what I was planning or they analyzed my former behavior and correctly predicted my actions. We must save our bombers and whatever Goshawks we can. We must not uselessly throw away important air assets.”
“Yes, sir,” Ping said. “But if even one of the Goshawks could break through—”
“No!” Liang said. “The hidden Behemoths show us they waited precisely for this in order to annihilate our air force. Recall the Chairman’s information. There are several Behemoth regiments. Surely, more are hidden there, protecting the critical I-70. Yes, the fact that the Americans were willing to show us the Behemoths in this position convinces me of this.”
Ping nodded and went back to checking his tablet.
Marshal Liang looked up at the screen. A fourth of the Herons launched at their farthest distance from target. The rest where still out of range, but that meant he would likely save them from the hidden Behemoths. The bombers began their retrograde turn. Elsewhere, Goshawks fled at speed, even as some enemy fighters attacked.
Oh, the Americans are clever. Yes, it was obvious I had to try for I-70. I must think more deeply next time.
Liang sat in his chair. The Behemoths are the key. I must destroy them. And I must think of a new way to shatter I-70.
-7-
Denver
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Anna Chen sat at the latest in technologically-enhanced, strategic decision-making. It was a massive computer table and it was in Bunker Number Five, beneath the White House.
This was an emergency session. Earlier this afternoon, David had spoken with the Joint Chiefs and Max Harold of Homeland Security. Every one of them had returned tonight, including the Defense Secretary, Luis Garcia.
Anna had entered the chamber a few minutes ago. She had been with the President when news of the Chinese air assault on I-70 arrived. He’d sent her ahead so it wouldn’t appear they’d been together before this. Those in and around the White House knew he used this time to relax. Few knew about their affair, about their intimacy. The rumors were becoming more pervasive and David wanted to squash them.
The main door to the chamber opened and a Marine guard entered, announcing, “The President of the United States.”
David strode