Нэнси Кресс - Terran Tomorrow

Jason watched helplessly from the command post as New America assaulted the base with weapons that he had not known still existed. The three F-35s emerged from the clouds and swept low overhead, dropping bombs. These exploded spectacularly against the dome’s energy shield, producing noise and fury but so far no damage except to the already charred forest beyond the perimeter. Although—what would happen if one of the jets flew a kamikaze mission directly into a dome? As far as Jason knew, that had never been tried.

The F-35s flew off, but they were not the main offensive.

Eight Strykers lumbered over the horizon, armored moving buildings. Each could hold eleven soldiers. The Strykers’ slat armor could withstand RPGs, and their ordnance, including the biggest guns ever fitted to this type of vehicle, could take out anything from a soft target to concrete bunkers. Jason had not known so many Strykers were left; there had been none at Sierra Depot. These had come overland from somewhere distant, plowing slowly through saplings and over rubble, skirting the ruins of cities. Where had the fuel come from? And did HQ know?

Jason couldn’t contact HQ, or anything else. The Strykers took positions facing all six airlocks and began firing. Any soldier who stepped outside to communicate with the signal station would be instantly reduced to a bloody pulp. After they had done trying out the Strykers’ ineffectual 105mms, the Strykers would simply wait in position, with New America’s troops bivouacking behind. Eventually Monterey Base, already low on food, would either starve or surrender. It was a siege, as if this were the thirteenth century and Monterey Base some medieval castle. But unlike thirteenth-century fortifications, the base had neither arrow slits and parapets from which to fire, nor rats to eat when the siege got too bad.

So it all came down to the tunnels from the annexes. New America would know the tunnels existed; all domes had one underground or underwater airlock. It was built into the incomprehensible alien design. But did they know where the base’s tunnels terminated? If so, a force would be waiting there. If not, they would have troops and snipers covering as much of the surrounding area as possible, waiting for someone to do what Jason had waited too long to do: get a message to the signal station to deploy the Return .

Assuming the signal station had not already been taken out.

Then, an added insult, a Bradley lumbered from the woods. A Monterey Base Bradley, the one that Jason and J Squad had abandoned to board the Return for the trip to Fort Hood.

Hillson came up behind him. “Sir.”

Jason didn’t answer. If he had carried out his plan before now, this might not have happened. If he hadn’t waited to attack Sierra Depot because he didn’t want to reveal to HQ that the Return was capable of more than he’d told Strople… if he hadn’t waited to see how many of his troops would be stricken with v-coma… if he hadn’t waited for definite orders…

“Sir…”

Jason turned from the ineffectual bombarding of his alien castle. “Do we have any intel about the signal station?”

“No, sir.”

“About the tunnels?”

“Captain Goldman listened at the exit. He didn’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean squat. They’d wait quietly.”

“Send one of the superhearers with Goldman.”

“We don’t—”

“The Settlers have three of them, plus one kid.” Sergeant Tasselman had registered all the Settlers, with as much information as he could pry out of them.

Hillson didn’t convey his surprise, but a pleased look crept into his eyes. “Yes, sir. Permission to accompany the superhearer.”

“Permission granted.” Jason turned back to the clear dome. “Hillson, you ever fight in a Stryker?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Me, too.” Jason could almost feel the inside: hot metal, the stink of too many bodies in too tight a place, of urine and bad breath and ammo, the Congo jungle vivid on the view screen. But remembering the inside of a Stryker was better than remembering what the outside had done to an enemy village.

To Hillson he said, “The three adult superhearers are Sarah Waters, Colin Jenner, and Benjamin Corrigan. Take Corrigan.”

“Yes, sir.”

The bombing had stopped now. The Strykers sat motionless, waiting. Jason sent for and briefed Elizabeth Duncan. “Sir,” she said, “there’s no need to go yourself.”

“I’m going. Take command.”

“Sir—”

“That’s all, Major.”

Her expression didn’t waver. If she disapproved—and of course she did—it didn’t show. Once again, Jason marveled at her self-control. It was an admirable military trait, but it also made him uneasy. She would back him up on this counterattack, but how far would she back him up on a direct defiance of HQ? He wasn’t sure, which is why he hadn’t as yet told her his entire plan.

And, of course, she was right to disapprove of his going outside. He could have used any of J Squad to convey orders to Li, and Li would accept them. Impossible to explain to the hyper-correct Major Duncan why Jason had to go outside himself. He could barely explain it to himself. But this mess was his responsibility, and he was going to fix it.

Lindy’s voice in his head: You think you can control everything.

Uncharacteristically, Duncan tried again. “Permission to speak, sir.”

“Go ahead.”

“You should not go yourself. Sir. Send me.”

Was she offering a genuine strategic assessment, or was she starting to take control of J Squad? Jason suspected that what had happened at HQ had been a junta-style takeover. General Hahn had been killed or imprisoned by Strople, who had his own agenda for the war. Strople could not have done that without convincing control of HQ officers. Was it possible that Elizabeth Duncan also—

No. He was being paranoid.

He said to Duncan, “Dismissed, Major.”

She left. Half an hour later, Hillson returned. “Sir, Corrigan was in Lab Dome. One of the scientists found out he had some sort of biology background and they’re using him in research. Captain Goldman took him through the tunnels. He says he heard troops near the exits of both tunnels, but not directly above either exit.”

Shit. “Did he hear any heavy vehicles?” Not that Corrigan’s report would be conclusive. A Stryker could be in place already, quietly waiting. Or just heavy ordnance.

“No, sir. Sir, with all respect—you shouldn’t go yourself.”

Sometimes Hillson seemed to reach into Jason’s head and extract his thoughts. It could be very annoying.

Jason said. “If this doesn’t work, it won’t matter who goes. Not in the long run.”

No one would be left to care.

He waited until well after nightfall. In full armor, Jason was a walking metal can equipped with the best sighting, communications, and killing tech of ten years ago. The J Squad soldiers with him looked equally formidable. But if there was another Stryker waiting at the top of the tunnel, they would all be hamburger in five seconds.

The unit stood, helmets off, going through weapons check in the storeroom at the bottom of Enclave Dome staircase. Jason had chosen Enclave tunnel precisely because it was used more, bringing in supplies and game, and so more likely to be known to New America. They would expect him to use the Lab Dome tunnel exit, which they might or might not know the location of.

The storeroom smelled of onions, but there were too many empty crates around. It was October; ordinarily, Colin’s Settlement would be supplying pumpkins, apples, pears, late tomatoes. Not this year, and not ever again if this plan didn’t work.