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As the plane snapped through a programmed set of low-level evasion maneuvers, Jones could see other flashes to the south that told of squadron mates less fortunate. He finally cleared the treeline on the northeast side of the interchange—chased by a last spiteful burst of laser fire—and returned to terrain-following mode. Now all he had to do was survive the unknown dangers between here and Manassas and he would be home free. Until the next mission.
CHAPTER 38
The Potomac River, Near Potomac Creek
United States of America, Sol III
0548 EDT October 10th, 2004 ad
Video from the side cameras of all the Peregrines was downloaded to the North Carolina along with the orders to fire on the intersection of Williams and Kenmore Streets. The captain ordered the video piped over the closed-circuit TV system, while the tactical officers huddled over their maps.
«Okay, Williams is VA 3, but where in the hell is Kenmore?» asked the peeved S-2. Standard tactical maps never denoted street names. This was because calls for fire never used them as references. Except in real life.
«Well, it has to be further into the city,» noted the chief gu
«Aye, aye.» The warrant officer began punching commands into his computer as the officers went back to arguing. Suddenly one of the communications technicians jumped up from her station.
«Sir,» she said, coming to attention next to the chief gu
The officer rounded on her testily. «What?»
«I've got a way to get a map of Fredericksburg, maybe, sir.»
«How?»
«Off the Internet. I've got a laptop in my locker. I can hook into the Internet and get it.»
«Shit,» said the S-2, «good idea, why didn't I think of it? Or maybe put in a priority call to the Defense Mapping Agency?» He caught the eye of the communications officer and gestured him over.
«I think Expedia would be faster, sir,» said the tech, diffidently.
«Can we still get Internet access?» asked the gu
«The Posleen have destroyed all the standard systems in the area around us,» said the communications officer, «but we might be able to punch through a short-wave transmission. What's this all about?»
«We desperately need a map,» said the gu
«Okay, girl, good work. Go get your laptop. If the Marines stop you, tell them to call me.»
«Yes, sir,» said the tech and jogged out the door.
«How are you going to get through?»
«Patch a line to Norfolk. I'll get one of my techs on it.»
«Okay.»
«You know, we're going to have company before too long,» commented the S-2, poring over the updates to the dispositions map. He noted the red marks showing Posleen in close proximity. The Peregrines had come within five miles of the ship on their way out. «That should get interesting.»
Like everyone else in the ship, he was becoming bored with the continuous main gun fire. After cheering the first few rounds it just got damn loud and monotonous. He could hardly imagine what it was like for the gu
«Briefly,» laughed the fire control chief.
«Yeah,» noted the gu
«You wish,» said the S-2 with a grim chuckle. The Posleen were not going to like their reception from the North Carolina.
* * *
It was by far the most monotonous job on the ship. The Electrician Class Two was one of the close-approach lookouts, the eyes and ears of the ship. Since the environment the ship had been refitted for was projected to be extremely hostile, a duty that traditionally involved exposure to salt spray and fresh sea air was now performed in a crowded, air-conditioned compartment.
And instead of hefting a pair of heavy binoculars and spotting the occasional leaping porpoise or diving bird, the technician ceaselessly sca
Then, after a rest period that seemed shorter and shorter all the time, it was back to sca
When they first sailed up the river, civilians had poured out of the woods. Some had their own boats, but many just lined the bank hoping to be rescued. They had been picked up by boat parties or the Marines and now huddled in the forecastle awaiting a return to port. But since that first flurry of activity, the shoreline had been undisturbed.
The tech had just picked up a Pepsi and taken a sip when a centaur appeared from the trees lining Marlboro Point Road and immediately opened fire with its shotgun.
The light shot did not even reach the ship—which was moored nearly a mile out in the broad river—and was u
«Posleen report, monitor sixty-eight, starboard abeam.»
«Posleen report, monitor ninety, port forequarter,» sang the soprano of a seawoman handling the portside monitors. The hull rang as the first hypervelocity missile struck the case-hardened steel of the bridge.
«PosRep monitor seventy-three, seventy-five, sixty-nine . . . PosRep all monitors.»
«CIC, this is Lookout Control,» the chief petty officer managing the compartment called over the intercom, «we have a full court press.»
* * *
«Go to full auto on all Thermopylaes and Mark 49s, engage the zone defense system,» ordered the captain, pa
The defensive systems officer flipped a cover up and inserted a key in a slot. With a twist of the wrist, the close-in defenses went to fully automatic mode.
The original Close-in Weapons System, codename Phalanx, was developed in the 1970s as a defense against antiship missiles and other close air threats. A sophisticated radar guidance system was coupled with a rapid-firing Gatling gun. The guidance system was mounted atop the gun and the single housing looked for all the world like a little robot. The conical white weapons sprouting up on the decks of Navy ships all over were immediately dubbed «R2D2s.» With the transition from a stance of the Navy fighting humans to the Navy fighting Posleen, the weapons appeared, like most of the Navy, to have become obsolete.
However, the same bright boys at Naval Sea Systems Command who pointed out the relative invulnerability of World War II battleships to Posleen ground weapons noted one other point about fighting the Posleen swarms. While the swarms might be difficult for weapons systems to distinguish when they were just moving or standing, once they fired it was a different story entirely. The conical white radome then disappeared, replaced by a heavy-action turret borrowed from the Abrams tank and a turret targeting system borrowed from the Hummer-25. Atop the turret was an infrared spike detector.
As the Posleen God Kings in their saucer-shaped craft came down to the river, they immediately opened fire with their pintle-mounted heavy weapons. The lasers, hypervelocity missiles and plasma rifles scored deep ridges in the battleship's plate, occasionally penetrating to the surface magazines of the vessel's secondary weapons. When they did, thundering explosions would rupture forth from the embattled dreadnought. But with the turn of a key, the tides of war changed sides.