that each side had taken bitter losses and would likely take many more.
Despite the twinge in his gut, Bao allowed himself a small smile. This morning, the toughest U.S. defensive positions would wake up to a science fiction surprise. He rubbed his hands in anticipation. Then he went to work, checking his crew’s performance.
Good, the laser-aiming mirrors were pointed toward the city. They would soon direct the beam on a parallel course with the ground.
Bao flipped a switch, bringing up the main targeting screen. He tapped it and found that Tenth Army HQ had already linked with them. A red dot appeared. Bao ran a check on his coordinate map. Ah, this was interesting. Did the Army HQ think it would be a test for them? Bao had no doubt at what his vehicle could achieve.
Quietly, Commander Bao spoke the required words.
Everyone put on their huge headphones/mufflers. A few of the personnel shifted in their seats as if uncomfortable. Bao wished there was some way to dampen the terrible noise that was about to occur. The continuous exposure to the sound was affecting his crew’s performance.
Checking his watch, Bao saw it was 7:46 A.M. The crew had finished the prep work and targeting had selected the object of assault.
“Give me power,” Bao said in his calm voice.
Chemical rocket fuel pumped the magnetic-propulsion turbine. The whine climbed the octaves to a nearly unbearable level. Crewmembers hunched their shoulders. Like Bao, they endured the hateful noise.
“Fire,” Bao said.
Relays clicked. A second later, a heavy laser beam poured out of the focusing system. The beam flashed across the city and struck its first objective with annihilating energy.
The other MC ABMs came online and they too poured their beams at carefully chosen targets.
Inside MC ABM #3, Bao studied his split screen. A White Tiger recon team provided real-time data. His beam burned into an enemy bunker. It melted the outer surface and punched through.
“Move the turret point three degrees,” Bao ordered.
Slowly, the turret shifted. That moved the focusing mirrors. That in turn moved the constant beam. At the end of the ray, it sliced the bunker, melting and burning through. The hellish beam must have fried the Americans inside, causing them to turn into vapor.
Bao didn’t realize it, but his hands balled into fists as he watched. This felt different from missile destruction. Now he was killing people.
“Raise the projector a half degree,” Bao said, with a twinge in his voice. Because of the horrendous noise inside the MC ABM, probably none of the crew noticed the difference.
At his command, the focusing projector lifted, and so did the beam destroying the American bunker. As if the ray was a giant knife, the strategic-level laser sliced and diced the American bunker that had stood against countless Chinese assaults.
Bao flinched as a red alert beacon flashed on his screen in the corner. It kept disappearing and reappearing, and put red spots in his eyes. The beacon had never flashed before. With missile and air destruction, they used pulse shots, not a continuous burn.
“Shut down power,” Bao said, speaking sharply.
The horrible whine climbed down the octaves, bringing needed relief to the crew.
“Dampening estimate?” Bao asked.
“Two minutes,” the dampening officer said.
Bao licked his lips. This was going to be a long day. He’d read the report on projected MC ABM use for today. It would leave them with less anti-missile and anti-air protection than usual. High Command must believe this ground use outweighed a possible American surprise air attack.
First glancing around to make certain no one watched, Bao opened the compartment under his chair. He took out the medicine. He twisted the lid and drank from it. The cool, thick liquid slid down his throat. He was going to have to take several swallows to put his ulcer to rest today.
In another few minutes, they would fire again at a different target. The Americans were going to learn a lesson they would not soon forget. Bao hoped it didn’t ruin his MC ABM or any of the carefully calibrated components.
He checked his watch. Then he took another sip before stowing the bottle. This was going to be a long day.
ENGLEWOOD, COLORADO
The morning began like many others for Jake. He stretched sore muscles and ate a light breakfast of MREs.
The blockhouse position had held off countless attacks. The landmines, the razor wire, the heavy ferroconcrete walls combined with the stubbornness of the defenders had thwarted the Chinese many times. The blockhouse indeed stood like an anchor.