yet, and he didn’t want to watch in silence. Talking helped ease his nerves.
“That’s what the colonial soldiers told each other on Breed’s Hill in 1775. It was called the Battle of Bunker Hill, even though it was mainly fought on Breed’s Hill. The saying—‘Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes’—wasn’t original to the colonists. General James Wolfe said it to his British troops in the Plains of Abraham during the Battle for Quebec. Soldiers fought with flintlock smoothbores back then. They were single shot muskets with bayonets attached. You had to make your shot count. That’s the reason for the saying: wait to fire until the enemy is right there so you can’t miss. The British won the Battle of Bunker Hill, but they took heavy losses and learned the American colonists knew how to fight hard.”
“I understand your reference now,” the CP captain said. “Thank you, sir.”
And that’s why I have the nickname of the Professor. When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut?
FORWARD EDGE OF THE BATTLE AREA, COLORADO
Captain Ray Smith flew an F-22 Raptor. His wingman was beside him and a little to the left. On both their fighter jets, they used super-cruise power to stay supersonic. They came from Idaho Springs, which was west of Denver. They headed west over I-70. They burned fuel in order to engage a host of Goshawk drones.
“Permission to engage,” Smith heard over his headphones.
“You are clear to engage, weapons free,” an AWACS controller said.
Within his breathing gear, Captain Smith grinned tightly. That was a Reflex interceptor pilot asking. Good. They were hitting the enemy. Captain Smith knew the importance of this mission.
“Even if it kills you,” the briefing officer had said, “stop those drones from reaching I-70.”
“We’re getting short of fuel,” his wingman said over the radio.
“Yeah,” Smith said. It was a rocket-ride to battle. There was little time left and time was on the Chinese side.
BEHEMOTH TANK PARK, COLORADO
Stan judged ten miles as the optimum firing mark. He’d told his tank commanders that, and the CP captain.
“Thirty seconds,” Jose said.
“I don’t think they know about us,” the CP captain said over the open link. “They’re heading straight into your guns.”
“Captain,” Stan said. “I think you should leave this wave to us. Save your SAMs and tac-lasers. We’re going to need them for the bombers. And this way they don’t know you’re there yet.”
“You’re talking about almost two hundred drones,” the captain said. It was the number in their sector. There were other drones headed elsewhere along I-70.
“Yes,” Stan said. “Leave these drones to us.”
“Yes sir, Colonel,” the captain said.
Stan squeezed his armrests. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want to give away the Behemoths. The enemy would have to realize what had happened. It would be too much to hope they wouldn’t. Some of the Chinese aircraft would likely survive. Probably, Chinese AWACS watched from far-off. But if they were going to give away where the Behemoths hid, they might as well get the full use out of it. They had to demolish this attack.
I can’t worry about the entire I-70, just my portion of it.
Stan had a moment where he wondered what had happened to his son Jake. Was his boy a Chinese prisoner? Was he a guerilla in Texas? Or was Jake dead? A thunderous scowl twisted Stan’s features.
The seconds ticked away. The Chinese Goshawks and fighter drones bored in toward I-70. They were eleven miles from the Tank Park.
“Ten seconds,” Jose said.
Stan wiped sweat out of his eyes. The seconds passed with agonizing slowness. He watched his screen and hoped their AI was smart enough to switch air targets one right after the other. If it failed—
“Fire at will,” Stan said into his receiver.
There was a mighty surge of engine power. A loud noise filled his ears and the Behemoth shook as the first penetrator round left the force cannon. It flew at Mach 10, burning through the cold mountain air.
In seconds, the shell reached a lead Goshawk, a heavy ground assault drone. The penetrator meant to smash through tank steel ripped easily through the drone. The machine crumpled and disintegrated, raining metal parts onto the freezing snow below on the mountain.
Stan bent forward in his command chair. He watched the radar screen as another penetrator surged out of the cannon. The Behemoth engine revved and more power flowed to the rail-gun. Another penetrator surged out. Two point five seconds later, another shell headed for the Goshawks.