Invasion: Colorado ia-3

by Vaughn Heppner

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.

  The force cannon had two tremendous powers. One, its shells could blast through any armor on the battlefield. Two, it fired much more quickly than any tank cannon known.

  The seventeen Behemoth tanks mercilessly shredded the nearly two hundred drones headed their way. Thirty drones died every seven seconds. Some Behemoth’s missed and others didn’t fire as fast.

  The slaughter was magnificent and awe-inspiring to all who witnessed it on the American side. A solid chunk of the Chinese plan to take out I-70 failed in a minute of rarefied destruction.

  But the battle for I-70 wasn’t over. Drones fought in other areas and the Herons still bored in toward the ribbon supply line.

  THIRD FRONT HQ, COLORADO

  Marshal Liang stared at the big screen in disbelief. A drone went down in flames, crashing into the side of a mountain and igniting. Evergreens began to burn like torches, sending up columns of smoke.

  “The Americans have something new,” he told General Ping.

  Ping had been working on a computer tablet. “Sir,” he said, “I beg to differ.”

  Liang tore his gaze from the big screen and glanced at calm General Ping. “What have you discovered?”

  “The rate of enemy fire,” Ping said. “I submit the Americans have new rail-gun anti-air weapons, or they employed Behemoth tanks.”

  “In the Rocky Mountains?” Liang asked.

  “High Command wondered where the Behemoth tanks hid. Now we know: near their manufacturing plant. It makes sense that they would defend it strongly.”

  Liang nodded. “The Chairman’s information is accurate then.”

  “It would appear so, sir,” Ping said.

  “Denver must be their heart of power. Yes. The Chairman is correct. We must wrest this plant from the Americans.”

  “The Chairman is always correct, sir.”

  Without glancing around, Liang realized that personnel listened to their conversation. Some of those personnel could be East Lightning plants. It was wise to remember that.

  “Yes, the Chairman is brilliant in his analysis,” Liang said. “The Behemoths—we must call off the attack.”

  “The bombers are nearing firing position and the rest of the Goshawks—”

  “Pull back!” Liang said. What had the Chairman informed them of? There were several Behemoth regiments, perhaps as many as one hundred giant tanks with rail-guns. Liang stood, and he spoke in a loud voice, “Radio the bombers and tell the drone operators to immediately flee south. We must escape the other rail-guns.”

  “Sir?” Ping asked.

  Liang turned to him. “This is a trap. I don’t know how, but the Americans knew what I was planning or they analyzed my former behavior and correctly predicted my actions. We must save our bombers and whatever Goshawks we can. We must not uselessly throw away important air assets.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ping said. “But if even one of the Goshawks could break through—”

  “No!” Liang said. “The hidden Behemoths show us they waited precisely for this in order to annihilate our air force. Recall the Chairman’s information. There are several Behemoth regiments. Surely, more are hidden there, protecting the critical I-70. Yes, the fact that the Americans were willing to show us the Behemoths in this position convinces me of this.”

  Ping nodded and went back to checking his tablet.

  Marshal Liang looked up at the screen. A fourth of the Herons launched at their farthest distance from target. The rest where still out of range, but that meant he would likely save them from the hidden Behemoths. The bombers began their retrograde turn. Elsewhere, Goshawks fled at speed, even as some enemy fighters attacked.

  Oh, the Americans are clever. Yes, it was obvious I had to try for I-70. I must think more deeply next time.

  Liang sat in his chair. The Behemoths are the key. I must destroy them. And I must think of a new way to shatter I-70.

  -7-

  Denver

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Anna Chen sat at the latest in technologically-enhanced, strategic decision-making. It was a massive computer table and it was in Bunker Number Five, beneath the White House.

  This was an emergency session. Earlier this afternoon, David had spoken with the Joint Chiefs and Max Harold of Homeland Security. Every one of them had returned tonight, including the Defense Secretary, Luis Garcia.

  Anna had entered the chamber a few minutes ago. She had been with the President when news of the Chinese air assault on I-70 arrived. He’d sent her ahead so it wouldn’t appear they’d been together before this. Those in and around the White House knew he used this time to relax. Few knew about their affair, about their intimacy. The rumors were becoming more pervasive and David wanted to squash them.

  The main door to the chamber opened and a Marine guard entered, announcing, “The President of the United States.”

  David strode in as chairs scraped back. Everyone stood, honoring him. He no longer seemed embarrassed by it, although he waved them down, but only after he sat and had made himself comfortable.

  Anna nodded to herself. The German offer of neutrality and the Canadian acceptance of losing Quebec to gain that neutrality had renewed his confidence. Yet there seemed something more to it. Despite her time with him, she wasn’t sure what it was.

  David cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’re aware by now that the Chinese have attempted a massive air assault against I-70 in Colorado. I received word that the enemy broke off the assault before committing their bombers. That’s very curious, especially from Marshal Liang’s people. We know he’s a careful organizer and tactician. Can anyone tell me why Liang did that or allowed it to happen?”

  “I have a theory, Mr. President,” General Alan said.

  “Good. Let’s hear it.”

  “You and I watched it in real-time, sir. Likely, Marshal Liang did as well. The Behemoth tanks shattered a portion of the assault. Goshawk drones appeared to have spearheaded that particular attack. They’re a hardy Chinese drone, almost comparable to our fighter-bombers in weight. That makes them big and we know they’re armored. I think the brutality and completeness of the destruction surprised the Chinese, particularly because the quick-firing rail-guns destr
oyed the Goshawks in a matter of minutes. Maybe Liang thought we had more surprises like that for him elsewhere.”

  The President nodded thoughtfully. “The Chinese called off the attack then? That’s what you’re saying? You don’t believe it was a preplanned maneuver to cause us to draw the wrong conclusions?”

  “Yes to the first Mr. President,” Alan said, “and no to the second.”

  “You’re suggesting Liang realizes the Behemoths caused the destruction.”

  “I would think so, sir.”

  David studied the computer table. So did Anna. It showed a map of the Midwestern United States, highlighting Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa and Missouri.

  “Zoom in on Greater Denver and the beginning mountain pass of I-70,” the President said.

  A technician made adjustments so the computer map showed just that.

  “Interesting,” the President said, although he didn’t elaborate. “Go back to how it was. Then show me the enemy front.”

  From Denver, to Kansas City to the outlying regions of St. Louis—between the Rockies and the Mississippi River—a red line appeared.

  “Show me the enemy gains in the past five days.”

  A long but very narrow shaded, pinkish area appeared. The enemy had attacked along the width of the Great Plains, pushing northward. Anna checked the scale. In the past five days, the deepest penetrations showed a twenty-mile thrust. Elsewhere, it was only five.

  “Their gains are deceptive, Mr. President,” Alan said. “In many areas, they passed through lightly defended Zones of Occupation. We built deceptive trenches and used inflatable artillery guns behind them, parks of dummy guns to fool their reconnaissance flights.”

  Anna had only learned about that yesterday. It was a trick on a massive scale. The Zones of Occupation had been meant to absorb the initial enemy strikes: vast artillery barrages and intense air bombardments.

  “In most areas, the Chinese are only now hitting our Main Line of Defense,” Alan added.

  Anna continued to study the map, as did everyone else in the room. That included her former boss, the Director of the CIA. Beginning reinforcements from the East Coast had begun to arrive at the Great Plains Defensive Lines. In another few days, the first Canadian units would arrive and help stiffen the masses of Militiamen.

  David stood as he told the technician to zoom back to the strip of Eastern Colorado. He had an electronic pointer in his hands. He clicked it on with his thumb and aimed it at the table. A green arrow appeared on the map.

  “I consider this decisive,” the President said. A green arrow touched Denver. “General Larson and McGraw believe that two Chinese armies are involved in storming the city. They estimate that to be anywhere from three hundred to four hundred thousand soldiers. That means these forces won’t be headed north right away. The Chinese are helping us by hitting the wrong target. My question is this. Why are the Chinese trying to capture Denver instead of pouring everything north?”

  Anna noticed several people glance at her surreptitiously before letting their gaze slide elsewhere. After all this time, some still didn’t trust her because of her Chinese ancestry. She blocked the thought and their darting glances, trying to put it in a drawer in her mind. That drawer, she shut.

  “This two-Army assault is meant to capture the city,” the President said. “Their desire to close off I-70 proves it beyond a doubt.”

  “I would agree, sir,” General Alan said.

  “Then you don’t think it’s a vast Chinese deception?” the President asked.

  “Why?” Alan asked. “Deception on that scale, with so many losses, doesn’t make sense. For one reason or another, they mean to capture Greater Denver.”

  “Where are the Behemoth tanks as of this moment?” the President asked.

  The technician adjusted the screen. The Behemoth position appeared in blue along I-70.

  “Sir,” General Alan said. “Now that the Chinese know where the tanks are, they’re badly exposed. What if the enemy uses nuclear weapons to shut down the mountain freeway?”

  The President looked up sharply.

  “If the Chinese mean to cut off Denver’s backdoor supply link,” Alan said, “why not use nuclear weapons as they did with the California passes? If they knock out the right bridge or mountain tunnel, the Behemoths won’t be going anywhere for a long time except into Denver.”

  “We must move the Behemoths now,” the President declared.

  “Agreed sir,” Alan said.

  “Right,” the President said. “Call the Tank Park. Tell Colonel Higgins to move his Behemoths tonight. I want them in Salt Lake City yesterday.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Alan said.

  Sims turned to Max Harold. “I have some questions about the Militia battalions in the Main Defense Lines.”

  Director Harold nodded.

  “First,” the President said. “I want to know…”

  HIGHLANDS RANCH, COLORADO

  Jake Higgins was in a makeshift Army hospital in an old office building behind the front lines. His arm was in a sling due to a badly bruised left shoulder. He was here to see the commander of the Eleventh CDM Battalion, a captain, as the man was the highest-ranking officer left of the shattered unit. Heck, the captain was almost the only officer left.

  Two days ago, Jake had dragged the bleeding and wounded captain out of a burning home in Castle Rock during vicious house-to-house fighting. After the first Chinese wave where he’d killed enemy in a bakery, the Chinese had changed tactics. Maybe that was because they’d changed from using penal soldiers to regular fighters. Instead of human wave assaults, the Chinese had advanced with overhead helos for protection and with combat bulldozers to knock down walls, rubble and houses. The bulldozers had changed the game, all right.

  In the grueling battle of Castle Rock, the Eleven CDMB went from the original twelve hundred combatants to two hundred and nineteen survivors. In other words, the meat-grinder of war chewed them from a battalion to a company, which was about right because all they had left was the captain.

  “Higgins,” Captain Lewis whispered from his bed.

  Jake glanced at the doctor, an older woman. She nodded. He stepped up to the medical bed. Tubes stuck out of the captain’s body. Both his legs had casts and they were elevated. He was pale and his eyes were glassy, no doubt due to heavy meds.

  “Give me your hand, soldier,” Lewis said with a slur.

  Jake thrust out his hands and felt the captain’s clammy fingers. The man barely had any grip left. But what he did have, he used.

  Lewis strained to lift his head. “I owe you my life,” he whispered.

  Jake didn’t know what to say.

  “I read your record before all this,” Lewis whispered. “You’re a troublemaker. You protested our President. That’s inexcusable. But…that’s over. You listen to me. You make trouble for the Chinese now, you hear?”

  “Yes sir,” Jake said.

  Lewis released his feeble grip. His hand flopped beside his side. He’d been straining his neck. He now relaxed his head against the pillow and the life seemed to go out of him.

  “Higgins.”

  “I’m here, sir.”

  A pasty smile creased the man’s face. “The Lieutenant is going to lead the Eleventh. I don’t think he likes you.”

  “No sir,” Jake said. It was more like the Lieutenant hated him, although Jake didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because.

  “I’ll get better for you,” the captain said. “I owe you. I pay my debts, too. I’ll get better and I’ll be in charge. Until then, you stay alive and you give the Chinese hell.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “As my last act in command, I’m promoting you to corporal. I’d bump you up to sergeant, but the Lieutenant made a phone call. The Detention Center Director vetoed the sergeant idea. He suggested you earn the slot first. Neither man understands you earned it ten times over in Castle Rock. I’m sorry, Corporal.”

  “No sweat, sir. I’m used
to it.”

  Lewis slowly licked his mouth. It was painful to watch. He was looking worse by the second. “I did find out one other thing. As I said, I checked your records.” He smiled faintly. “Your father is Colonel Stan Higgins.”

  “Yes sir. That’s true.”

  “He’s close by, Corporal.”

  “He’s in Greater Denver, sir?”

  “Close,” Lewis said. “I’m not sure of his exact location. But I’ve spoken with the doctor. As soon as you leave my room, the doctor is going to patch you through to your father.”

  “Sir?” Jake said. “Thank you very much, sir. That’s…that’s kind of you.”

  “This blasted war,” the captain said. “You give the Chinese trouble from now on. Love your country, Higgins.”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Yeah,” the man whispered, his words weakening as he spoke. He was like a balloon giving its last air before becoming limp. His eyes closed with a will of their own. In another moment, he breathed deeply, fast asleep.

  “He needs his rest,” the doctor said.

  “Will he be okay?” Jake asked.

  “Given time,” she said, “a long time. But unless this war lasts several years, he’s no longer going to do any fighting.”

  That meant Jake would have to get along with the Lieutenant. That was great news, oh yeah.

  “Would you come with me please?” the doctor said.

  “Where to?” asked Jake. Now what?

  “We have a phone call to make,” she said.

  “Tonight?”

  The doctor studied him. “I spoke with your captain earlier. He told me—well. Let’s just leave it at this: You may not have another chance to talk to your father.”

  “Is my father dying?”

  “What? Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Are you coming?”

  “Sure,” Jake said. “Let’s make the call.”

  BEHEMOTH TANK PARK, COLORADO

  The stars blazed overhead as the giant tanks revved with power. One by one, the Behemoths lurched out of their holes, climbing a dirt ramp.

  Huge truck-trailers pulled up on the snow-covered asphalt. They were massive vehicles with outrageously huge tires and large cabs: Behemoth carriers.