Tzu frowned. He needed to concentrate. There were seven other bombers with him. The eight of them were part of twenty-nine Herons attacking the Behemoth tanks. Each of the standoff bombers carried four air-to-ground missiles. The missiles were special tank busters, very big and very fast, with ECM to survive enemy counterattacks.
Tzu licked his lips. He recalled the Behemoth tanks all right. They had been waiting for him in the Rockies weeks ago now. Since then, Tzu had been busy bombing Greater Denver and making more attack runs on I-70 in the Rockies. Actually, he’d made long-range attacks on the repair parties trying to fix the freeway from Chinese ballistic bombardments.
Earlier this morning the briefing officer had told them how important the mission was. The American offensive had driven much deeper than anyone had expected. Marshal Liang had plans for these over-bold Americans. First, though, Liang needed the Behemoths destroyed. Tzu’s bombers were the key to that, or so the briefing officer had told them.
As Tzu sat up here in the bright sunshine, he had his doubts about that. The Behemoths had destroyed one hundred Goshawks in a matter of minutes in the Rockies. Here, the Behemoths would have even better targeting conditions.
There was another thing troubling him. Captain Tzu had been hearing for months now how each of his bombing runs was utterly critical to the war effort. He had fired many missiles and launched even more Goshawks. High Command had told the bomber teams many weeks ago that the Americans were almost finished. Yet now the enemy was on the verge of reaching Denver. If the Behemoths completed the encirclement, the Americans would have trapped Third Front in a gigantic cauldron.
How could twenty-seven Herons bring about a great enough victory to change that? Tzu didn’t know. But that didn’t matter now—there were many things he didn’t understand. What he did know was that he had a task to perform. As always, he hoped to survive the battle.
The longer this war lasted, the less likely that would be. One of these days, the enemy had to get lucky. The law of averages demanded it.
“Are you ready?” Tzu asked his navigator.
“Yes Captain,” the navigator said.
“Then radio HQ and tell them we’re nearing attack position,” Tzu said. “I’m curious to see how our missiles do against the Behemoths.”
Anna Chen sat in Underground Bunker Number Five. Like everyone else present, she was excited and terribly worried about today. The great spearhead of the American Counterattack—the Behemoth tanks—were about to face the dreaded Chinese laser system.
She’d watched the grim footage of the weapons destroying Denver bunkers and strongpoints. One seemed to peel away bricks so they tumbled to the ground and exploded into fragments there. She’d heard those beams explained by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Initially, the MC ABMs had been mobile strategic lasers to protect the Chinese from missiles and massed air power. Someone on the Chinese side had seen another use for the vehicles.
General Alan was speaking, explaining once again how the Siege of Denver had tied down critically needed Chinese Armies. Marshal Liang might have deployed those armies north, speeding the Chinese attack. General Alan believed those “missing” armies had been the margin. The Third Front’s drive toward Cheyenne and the North Platte River Defense had been contained these past weeks, although they had lost Cheyenne in bitter street-to-street fighting. If the Tenth and Fifteenth Armies had added their considerable weight to the attack, the North Platte River Line would have ruptured. As that line had mostly been composed of Militia formations, the Chinese would likely have encircled and annihilated them. America would have lacked the necessary numbers then to launch the counter-offensive.
“If Liang would have been content to smash the Rocky Mountain I-70 and mask Denver with a ring of garrison troops, he could have sent the Tenth and Fifteenth Armies north,” Alan said.
The President finally entered the chamber. After everyone had sat back down, Sims turned to General Alan.
“Are the ballistic missiles ready?” the President asked.
Alan nodded.
“Put me through to General McGraw,” Sims said.
Soon, General McGraw appeared on the wall screen. He stood in his headquarters, surrounded by staff and screens. It was a flurry of activity there, with a buzz of talking people. At last, Tom McGraw turned to Sims.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” McGraw said.
“No, no, that’s quite all right, General,” Sims said. “Are the Behemoths in position?”
McGraw motioned to someone off-screen. “If you’ll allow me, sir, I can patch the tactical situation through to your computers.”
“By all means,” Sims said. “Let’s see that.”
On the great computer table in Underground Bunker Number Five appeared the present spearhead of Army Group Washington.
McGraw explained what they were seeing. “The two divisions of Jeffersons—the 10th and 21st Armored Divisions—are spread out in a wide arc before the Behemoths. They’re the screen, sir. If the enemy uses T-66s or other armor, the Jeffersons are to engage and destroy them. If it’s Chinese missiles or air attacks, the Jeffersons will link their targeting computers and provide a wall of counter-missile or anti-air fire.”
“And if the enemy laser tanks take out the Jeffersons?” Sims asked.
“It’s what I hope they try to do, sir,” McGraw said. “That will give me time to study their capabilities.”
“All while they’re destroying our newest main battle tanks,” Sims said, angrily.
“Yes sir, that’s exactly right.”
“You’re a hard-hearted man, General.”
McGraw’s face tightened. “No more than you are, Mr. President.”
Anna glanced sharply at David Sims. Something dark passed before the President’s face. He didn’t like the comment, but he let it pass.
“When do you fire the ballistic missiles?” the President asked.
“Right after the laser tanks open fire. I want to know exactly where those Chinese MC ABMs are before we launch the missiles. Sir, those heavy stations are slow or practically immobile in a tactical sense. As important, through radar and thermal imaging our AIs will be able to track the beams directly to their sources. I consider that a flaw in the Chinese weapon system.”
“I hope you’re right, General.”
“So do I, Mr. President. I know you know the old saying. No plan of battle survives contact with the enemy. Today we’re going to—”
McGraw turned away as someone spoke to him urgently. A moment later, he faced the screen. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but if you’ll excuse me.”
“Get to work, General. Kick the Chinese in the teeth.”
“Roger that, Mr. President.”
Commander Bao of MC ABM #3 nervously sat in his command chair. The three sections of the laser vehicle sat on a hill in the outskirts of shattered Aurora. The city belonged to Greater Denver and was the closest to I-70 heading out onto the Great Plains.
From here, the laser vehicle had an excellent line of sight. The other MC ABMs were also in position. Already, Bao watched inflowing data from high-flying UAVs.
Smaller American tanks were between him and the approaching Behemoths. Marshal Liang had a surprise for those tanks, but that would take time to make it happen.
Bao swallowed and desperately tried not to think about his stomach. He had a carton of milk in his chair compartment, but he hadn’t opened it yet. He was so hungry. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday. He couldn’t afford to eat now. The combination made his mind a little fuzzy, but he would force such fuzziness away through willpower.
His mother had often told him he had a strong intellect, a strong will. Now was the time to use it. China watched him today. Marshal Liang had let the Mobile Canopy commanders know that Chairman Hong personally monitored the situation.