Freedom (TM)

“We’re on it, sir.”

Johnston scowled. “If our security system has been breached, then that might mean Daemon operatives know about our plans.”

“Unlikely. But even if they did, it’s too late to do anything about them. We’re going to move ahead on an accelerated schedule.”

Co

“A Daemon counterattack was anticipated, but much of the darknet’s bandwidth should disappear when we conduct the blackout.”

“What the hell are we waiting for?”

Co

“Yes, sir.”

In a few moments the central screen showed black-and-white infrared imagery of the prairie floor from a few thousand feet. The fence line was clearly visible ru

“Looks clear on the perimeter, sir.”

Co

“Yes, General.”

A piercing air-raid siren slowly wound up to a long mournful wail somewhere outside the bunkerlike building.

Co

We have six surveillance drones airborne, but since we can no longer trust our perimeter alarms, that gives us too much terrain to cover. Have the garrison pull back to the secondary perimeter and establish kill boxes at the service gates here, here, and here, and at internal ranch road junctions here and here. Keep a garrison at the south airfield.”

“What are the rules of engagement, General?”

“Fire on anything that approaches our lines by land or air.”

“Anything?”

“Let me make this clear: if a horse and buggy filled with orphans and nuns approaches a gate waving a white flag—open fire at four hundred yards and keep firing until those bitches are down. Sobol was devious enough to conceive of the Daemon and devious enough to build it. If his agents get into this compound, they will sabotage our systems and sow confusion in our ranks. That must not be allowed to happen.”

“Do we pursue retreating forces?”

“Don’t get drawn out from our perimeter. Keep your forces concentrated around what matters: the i

“What about the rail spur?”

“We’ll blow the tracks at Snake Bayou if outside rail traffic appears.” He sca

A one-star frowned at the board. “Who is it we’re expecting?”

“Intelligence reports indicate elements of Daemon militia are en route. They’re going to be lightly armed civilian irregulars—susceptible to electronic countermeasures and disbursement by heavy weapons. However, we all know what happened to Operation Prairie Fire. So we can’t assume anything. The difference this time around is we’re on our home turf.”

Another officer gestured to the map. “What about unma

“High likelihood.”

“What about unma

“They’ll be easy targets out here in the prairie—particularly for the Bradleys guarding these interchanges, here and here. Instruct the crews to engage with their ca

He paused for any further questions. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

The officers scattered to the exits. Co

The analysts conferred briefly. One of them looked up. “We’ve lost contact with our aerial drones, General.”

“Where?”

“Northeast sector, near gate two.”

“The north road.” He examined the map. “Have the remaining drones increase their altitude, and scramble a Kiowa chopper to the northern sector. I want aerial imagery ASAP.”

“Roger. ETA roughly twelve minutes on the chopper.”

“Twelve minutes?”

“It’s thirty miles, General.”

“Damnit.” He turned to Johnston. “But we don’t need to outsmart the Daemon. We just need to keep it busy long enough for the techs to cut its claws off.” He pointed to the analysts. “Get me some intelligence about what’s on my perimeter. Send out scout teams if necessary—but get it. In the meantime, let’s keep in close radio contact with the perimeter gate teams.”

Johnston sat in a leather chair at the edge of the video table. The ranch map spread out before him, showing the placement of forces.

“How long until we execute Operation Exorcist, General?”

“Not long now, Mr. Johnston. Not long.”

Korr Military Solutions captain Greg Hollings stood next to his Humvee inside the north gate of Emperor Ranch. Arrayed around him in foxholes on either side of the road his squad lay in ambush, watching the large, wrought-iron estate gates, chained shut fifty yards away. Three concrete highway dividers had been dropped in front of them—blocking the way. A fifteen-foot-high stone perimeter wall on either side of the gate stretched into the darkness in both directions, but Hollings knew it was largely cosmetic and only extended a few hundred yards before yielding to barbed-wire fencing and seismic sensors. Sensors that were all in alarm.

What was to prevent attackers from outflanking them way down the perimeter—coming in from behind and reco

“We’re meat-on-a-stick out here, Chief.”

“Keep it together, Priestly.” Hollings sca

Lieutenant Priestly spread a map out on the hood of the nearest Humvee. They both flipped down their night vision goggles. “We’ve got a sixty and a Javelin crew in that guardhouse and another here in ambuscade. Two fire teams entrenched alongside with SAWs. Interlocking fire on the gate centerline. Ten sets of Claymores guarding the north road beyond the gate, starting at one hundred yards out and spaced ten yards apart. Motion activated.” He gestured into the darkness right and left. “We’ve got Humvee-mounted M60 teams on both our right and left flanks, a hundred and fifty yards out—at the ends of the gate walls. They’ll serve as artillery spotters.”

“What about Lopez and Tierney?”

“Their vehicles are in reserve. I figure we’ll move ’em wherever they’re needed.”

Hollings nodded. “Face them rearward. I’m concerned we’ll be attacked from behind—these walls don’t go far. The moment we make contact, I want remote fire support. Any word from the Kiowa they sent up?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Goddamnit. I’m blind.” He pointed back at the map. “We do not fall back to the guardhouse—it’s a death trap. Not enough windows, and it looks highly flammable. If we get overrun, we mount up and join MRTP a few clicks south. Understood?”