Sam spoke calmly. “Targets acquired. Status?”
“Ready, all grids,” came a soft reply.
“On my word.”
First, the olive branch, he thought. He held up one huge hand, and switched to external speaker.
“This base is designated territory of the United States of America. You will not advance any further.” He translated: “Zhège jīdì pī zhǐdìng měilìjiān hézhòngguó de lǐngtǔ. Nǐ bù huì tíchū rènhé jìnyībù de.”
Sam waited, but the men continued to edge towards him. Last chance, he thought. “Go home, boys!”
The first few bullets that struck him came out of the snow line and were noiseless — standard automatic rifles, each with a sound baffler, and each hit his chest with a dull thud that barely marked the armor plating of his suit.
The next was something more — a high velocity slug that hit his face dead center, compressing the armor and punching his head back. Sniper rifle, big caliber, M99 probably, Sam thought, and it fucking hurt. He felt blood on his lips, and he growled through gritted teeth.
He roared into his mic. “Take ’em down.” Sam lifted his huge arm, and along the forearm a barrel was attached. He pointed at one of the three figures coming at him fast, and immediately a shotgun blast roared from the barrel. Boom after boom, the rubber-nosed slugs found the approaching PLA soldiers and kicked them off their feet. Without body armor, the big rubberized slugs would break bones, or render even a big man unconscious.
Three men went down, and the approaching soldiers immediately split their attack. Several more men looped rapidly towards Sam, zigzagging, and others peeled off left and right to try and enter the camp from behind him.
“Okay, three down, three more coming to party, that leaves six trying to gate crash from behind. Take ’em out, people.”
The snow moved, and HAWCs materialized close to the attacking soldiers. Even bigger and faster warriors suddenly confronted the PLA commandos. Very few shots were fired, as hand-to-hand engagement was executed quickly and efficiently.
Sam grunted, and held his arms wide, as the men sprinted at him. Handgun fire pelted into his torso. Finally, Sam moved — the suit’s hydraulics moving his muscles at a blistering speed. First, he shot forward, faster than any normal man, to lower a shoulder and strike one of the white-clad PLA commandos square in the chest. The soft flesh and bone was no match for the two-legged truck that ran into him, and the man bounced away to lay still.
Sam then spun, finding his next target, and flinging out an arm that caught a second man across the back, smashing him into snowdrift. The third and final soldier put his head down, and sprinted hard, ignoring Sam and instead heading towards the line of snow-covered buildings of the McMurdo base. His head was tucked down, and his hands were working furiously on something clutched to his chest. Sam had a sinking feeling and exploded into action, running the man down, grabbing him and lifting him in the air.
The man turned and screamed something, and Sam immediately saw the package in his hands. Numbers were already counting down, and he could see the soda can-sized cylinders of different colored fluids — it was a chemical incendiary device, and a large one.
“Bomb!” he screamed, and like a hammer thrower, he began to spin with the man in one arm and when he had enough centrifugal force, he released the PLA soldier. The ACS suit gave Sam’s already phenomenal strength a super powered boost, and the man was flung into the air to travel fifty feet up and over the rise, falling behind a large snow bank.
“Fire in the — ”
The immediate explosion that erupted staggered the huge HAWC, and even though he raised an arm and planted trunk-like legs, the hydraulic pistons struggled to maintain his balance.
Sam had crushed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, he was shocked to see that most of the snow around them had melted from the heat. Sonofabitch, he thought, imagining the devastation that it would have inflicted on the base’s population.
“Sound off.”
His HAWC team rose up among the sludge and debris, each counting off, most holding one or more PLA bodies, now looped at the wrists and ankles. In the closest McMurdo cabin, Sergeant Bill Monroe stood in a doorway, grinning and giving Sam a thumbs up.
Sam nodded to him, and then sent an information squirt to Jack Hammerson.
“Storm passed, McMurdo is still ours.”
“Acknowledged.” There was no joy, surprise, or even satisfaction in Hammerson’s voice. The older warrior was just moving his pieces on the board, and there were more moves yet to come. “Proceed to next engagement. Over.”
“On my way.” Sam turned back to his team and circled a finger in the air. The HAWCs began to drag their captors into the McMurdo camp. Sam turned back to the snow drifts, smiling. Time to pay our Brit friends a little visit.
The mountainous HAWC, encased in the armored suit, began to plow through the snow to the Ellsworth base, picking up speed as he went.
“It was premature.” General Banguuo’s eyes followed Chung Wanlin as the smaller man paced, his face near purple. “Sending a PLA team to McMurdo was premature, obviously anticipated, and now neutralized.”
The minister stopped and spun, his eyes narrowed. “At least I had the courage to act.” He grinned, but it was more like a death’s-head grimace. “It is true, I am not a soldier… but are you?”
Banguuo smiled and got slowly to his feet. The general was a veteran of border skirmishes, and was a formidable man compared to the slight bureaucrat. “Be careful you do not leave this room with your expensive teeth in your pocket, dear minister.” He came slowly around his desk, his eyes drilling into Wanlin.
Wanlin started to back towards the door. “I will inform the general secretary…”
“The general secretary has been fully briefed… by me.” Banguuo kept the man pinned with his gaze. “Your bullishness has forced us into a situation that neither we, nor the Americans, wish to find ourselves in.”
Banguuo stood over Wanlin. “The cost of a war right now would break us. The cost of a war with America, could annihilate us.” The general pushed down an urge to beat the man senseless. He inhaled deeply, and then let it out slow. “But now, if we just turn around and go home, the loss of face in front of our greatest rival and competitor would be unthinkable.”
Wanlin straightened slightly. “We would never back down.”
“No, no, we cannot. Thanks to you, we have the tiger by the tail, and dare not let go.” Banguuo turned to walk to his window. “The aircraft carrier will be there soon.” He turned. “Pray they blink before we do.”
CHAPTER 39
Comrade Liu Yandong continued to work his way along the dark river bank. He silently prayed that there were no more crossings necessary, as he didn’t think his nerves could bear it. The pressure, the darkness, and the lack of food — he hoped — were all making his stomach jump and twist. The cave stream had gotten wider, and in turn the shoreline had shrunk. In addition, the water appeared to be slowing. It could only mean one thing — an obstruction.
Liu rounded the bend and his shoulders slumped. It was as he suspected. The river cave ended with a wall of tumbled rocks, totally blocking any further progress. He moved his flashlight over the wall; some of the boulders were no more than the size of a bread loaf, but others were car sized. There was no army on earth that could shift them without moving equipment. He approached the stones and looked up. The barrier went all the way to the ceiling, not even leaving a gap at the top, and the rocks were slime coated, and in some places looked welded together from the countless ages they had rested upon one another. This was an ancient fall.