Лю Цысинь - Supernova Era

When calm was restored but before the dust had settled, Yagüe called for the last item on the program: “Light the torch!”

The whine of engines filled the air, and the children all looked up to see a fighter jet coming in from the east. In the near-dark sky it was visible only as a silhouette, and seemed cut out of cardboard. As it drew near, they could make out the ugly shape of an A-10 Warthog, its two large engines looking like aftermarket attachments to the tail section. As it passed over a large clearing in the crowd, it dropped a napalm bomb that exploded with a deep rumble, sending flames and black smoke leaping skyward. The crowd on the plain was lit up with orange firelight, and the children ringing the clearing could feel the waves of heat.

The sun was entirely below the horizon now as the Antarctic continent began its long nighttime. But it wasn’t a dark night; lit by aurora australis, greatly intensified by the radiation from the supernova, every inch of the sky was filled with dancing bands of color, while on the vast land below, the Supernova Era’s nightmarish history continued its march forward.

The thirty-five tanks in Lieutenant Wang Ran’s battalion advanced at full speed in an attack formation, but in front of them was only an open plain dotted with patches of unmelted snow. They had covered a considerable distance without seeing the enemy. This was the head-on tank vs. tank game. Their starting point was a low-lying depression, an excellent cover position for an armored division, and difficult to locate in this section of the plain.

Under the norms of regular combat, they could enter under cover of night with a considerable gap between vehicles and carefully camouflage themselves once everyone was in place, and then the following day wait until the enemy drew near to attack. But such an approach was impossible now, because the enemy knew their position, and they knew their enemy’s, and each side was fully aware of the other’s strength. The intelligence was 100 percent accurate; they had informed each other directly. They even knew the type and amount of ammunition carried by each of the thirty-five Abrams tanks they were about to fight, and were completely conversant with the defects in tracks and fire-control systems owing to a memo received the previous day from the US Army commander. Everything proceeded as clearly and openly as the unobstructed plain under the southern lights.

The only things they could exploit were their attack-formation design and their shooting skills. Wang Ran had been a driver, but his tank had been destroyed in the games two days ago, and he had barely escaped with his life. The gunner in his current tank had been killed in that game, and he had been put into the position as an emergency replacement. Although he was not at all sure of himself, he was still looking forward to it, since being a gunner was a totally different feeling. He sat up in a much higher seat listening to the roar of the engine and enjoying the feeling of speed. The most satisfying part was when the tank crested a medium-size rise in the ground, since in that instant the tracks left the ground and the Type 99 was entirely airborne, and when it descended again Wang Ran had a delightful sense of weightlessness. For a brief moment the fifty-ton iron beast was as agile as a glider, but in the next instant it landed heavily on the ground, which shifted beneath the impact of its tracks as if it were soft mud. He sunk down with it, like a weighty mountain settling in place. Throughout the whole jump his every cell screamed with excitement, like in a cavalry charge.

“First of all we simplified tank combat into two opposing tanks traveling toward each other across a two-dimensional flat plane. Such conditions don’t actually exist, just like the points and lines of geometry don’t really exist in the real world, but this allows you a clear view of the essential elements of tank combat. In this age, the key to victory is to fire first, and to hit with the first round. The two have a multiplicative relationship, not an additive one; if either is zero, the outcome is a zero. The interesting thing is that they are in opposition: the earlier the fire, the farther from the target, and the lower the first-round hit rate; and vice versa…”

This was a lesson given by an adult officer to the young armored forces a year ago, and his words echoed in Wang Ran’s brain, even though he now felt it was all bullshit. Now, Wang Ran could be that colonel’s instructor, since the colonel had never been in actual tank combat; otherwise he’d have taught Wang Ran and the others some more useful information. Sure, the colonel had mentioned that the modified Abrams fire-control system gave it a first-round hit rate of 78 percent outside of one mile, but he didn’t comprehend the actual implications of that figure. Wang Ran understood. The goal he and his young brothers-in-arms had had upon joining the armored division, to be a hero with dozens of tank kills, was the biggest joke in the world. Their only goal now was to hit one enemy tank before they were destroyed themselves, to not lose on the exchange. It was by no means an easy goal; if every Chinese tank were able to achieve it, the Chinese kids wouldn’t lose the game.

Both sides fired flares, and their surroundings lit up in green light. Wang Ran looked through his scope at the yellowish haze ahead of them, the dust cloud kicked up by tank #105 to their forward left. All of a sudden the yellow dust in his field of vision turned red with flickering firelight. The scene cleared up and he saw #108 slow down, trailing smoke and fire, and then it was far behind them. Ahead to the right another tank was on fire, and was also left behind. At no time did he hear the two tanks get hit. Suddenly a column of dust was kicked up straight ahead of them, and they ran directly into it, stones and shell fragments clattering on the tank’s outer armor. The shot, a high-speed fin-stabilized armor-piercing round, had fallen short of the target. Now his tank was at the head of their formation, and Wang Ran heard in his earpiece the voice of the lieutenant colonel in command of their battalion, from her command vehicle: “Targets sighted directly ahead! Fire at will!”

More bullshit. Just like in the previous engagements, in the crucial moment they never provide you with the information you want. They’re just a distraction. Now the tank slowed down, evidently so he could fire. Wang Ran looked ahead through his viewfinder, and in the light of the flares he saw first the dust clouds blocking out the sky over the horizon, and then, at the base of the cloud, he saw the black dots. He adjusted the focus until the Abrams tanks resolved, and his first impression was that they were nothing like what he had seen in photographs, where they looked as powerfully sturdy as two square iron ingots bolted together. Here, trailing long dust clouds behind them, they looked smaller.

He caught one in the crosshairs, and then pressed the button to lock it, turning the M1A2 into a magnet to attract the 120 mm smoothbore cannon, so that no matter how the tank pitched or rocked, the barrel would remain stubbornly trained onto its target like a compass needle. He pressed the fire button and saw the spurt of fire from the barrel and the dust kicked up ahead of them by the vented air. Then off in the distance the shell exploded in fire and smoke. It was a clean explosion, no dirt, and Wang Ran knew it was a hit. The tank continued to advance, trailing smoke, but he knew that it wouldn’t make it very far before it stopped.

He moved the crosshairs to capture another target, but then from outside the tank came a deafening noise. His helmet and earphones had excellent noise-shielding, but he knew it was a loud noise because it rocked his entire body numb. The viewfinder went dark, and his legs suddenly felt burning hot, like the time when he was young and his father carried him into a hot tub. But the heat turned scorching, and he looked down at the inferno he was now standing in: flames were everywhere in the lower part of the cabin.