Ice War (27 page)

“Nice drivin’,” Wilton said.

[MISSION DAY 3, FEBRUARY 18, 2033. 1550 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

[ACOG EMERGENCY OPERATIONS CENTRE, RAVEN ROCK MOUNTAIN COMPLEX, PENNSYLVANIA]

The operations table at Raven Rock was shaped like an elongated doughnut. In the centre, in the doughnut hole, a small group of uniformed personnel sat at computer workstations, running the communications for the command centre.

Russell was the only person at the table without bandages. He was the only person lucky enough to have been out of the bunker when the bomb exploded.

The rest of them sported a variety of dressings, some stained red with blood. Watson had a broken arm and looked shaken. Hooper’s head was wrapped so thoroughly she could have auditioned for a role in
The Mummy
. Hundal’s hands were heavily bandaged, and even now one of his arms was being attended to by a medic.

Bilal and Whitehead were missing.

No one, apart from Russell, had escaped unscathed, despite the elaborate and sophisticated defences of the Pentagon bunker.

“It’s not rocket science,” Russell said. “We blow the mines, that will force them to bring up the bridgers. We wait until the bridgers are in place then drop in a tactical nuke.”

“The oversight committee will never allow it,” Gonzales said.

“The oversight committee has no say in the matter,” Russell said. “Since the bombing of the Pentagon, we have been in a state of martial law. Government powers have been suspended. With Whitehead incapacitated, I am the senior ACOG commander and right now what I say goes.”

“You’ll still have to answer to the committee after the fact,” Gonzales said. “When martial law ends.”

“That’s fine with me,” Russell said. “They can complain about it afterwards and hold an inquiry and run around in circles with all their usual red tape. But we are losing a fight for our lives and we are not stopping for a rubber stamp from a bunch of old women who are too afraid to do what needs to be done to win this war.”

“You’ll use artillery?” Hundal asked. “I doubt my planes could get near.”

“Yes, they are already in place,” Russell said. “We drop the nuke five klicks off shore with a blast radius of four klicks. That takes out ninety per cent of their attacking force. They’ll think twice before trying to cross the Bering Strait again.”

“But they won’t think twice about using a tactical nuke on the battlefield,” Hooper said.

“Hooper, are you with me, or should I have you removed from this room?” Russell asked.

“I will obey your orders,” Hooper said. “But I want it on the record that I disagree.”

“Done,” Russell said. “What’s our wind situation?”

“Westerly, about ten knots,” Watson said.

“Excellent,” Russell said. “That will blow any fallout towards the Bzadians on Chukchi. But get our ground forces into MOPP suits just in case.”

“What about the locals,” Gonzales asked, “the Inupiat? They won’t have protective suits.”

“What Inupiat?” Russell asked. “We relocated all of them years ago. If some of them want to break the law and go into a military zone without permission, they deserve whatever they get.”

“Check your six!” Anderson shouted, and Wilton checked the rear screen to see a rotorcraft hard on their tail.

Anderson jigged the hovercraft left and right, in a way that the rotorcraft could not match, preventing its guns from locking on.

“Landmine?” Wilton asked.

“You can try,” Anderson replied. “You might get lucky.”

The spitfire circled around a battle tank then straightened out. The moment Wilton was sure the rotorcraft was right behind them, he dropped a mine. In the rear screen, he saw it land, but the rotorcraft lifted up, well over it.

Bullets peppered the propeller behind them.

“It’s stuck on our tail!” Wilton yelled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anderson said. “They can’t turn as fast as we can. Get ready to drop another landmine, on my mark.”

“Landmine ready,” Wilton said.

Anderson spun the hovercraft in a wide slide, heading right for another battle tank, which tried to engage them with its machine guns. But they were too close and too fast. She veered away at the last moment and whipped the craft in a tight circle around it.

The rotorcraft followed, but Anderson was right: its rotor system, although agile in the air, was clumsy so close to the ground.

Anderson circled the tank twice, and said, “On my mark, ready …”

They circled the tank one more time, emerging right on the tail of the rotorcraft, which veered off and tried to build up speed. But the spitfire was on a collision course with it.

“What are you doing?” Wilton cried out.

“Ready …” Anderson said. She hauled back on the controls and the machine lifted, soaring into the air over the top of the rotorcraft. “Now!”

Wilton punched out the mine and heard the explosion as it fell into the blades of the rotorcraft. He yelled with excitement as the spitfire landed.

“Okay, we’re out of here,” Anderson said.

“We were just getting started,” Wilton said.

“We’ve been pulled out,” Anderson said. “Everybody is being pulled back, effective immediately.”

“Why?” Wilton asked.

“They didn’t say,” Anderson said. “But it’s not hard to work out.”

“Guys, we have a problem,” The Tsar said. “ACOG has ordered all units back to a perimeter of no closer than five kilometres.”

They were a hundred metres behind the Bzadian lines, and closing fast, a long row of rounded hulls ahead of them, blurred by the driving ice and snow.

“Pulled them out? Why?” Wall asked.

“Oh my God, they’re going to nuke the place,” Barnard said.

“So what’s wrong with that?” The Tsar asked. “That’ll stop them.”

“The Pukes have nukes too,” Price said.

“So?” Wall asked.

“It’s called escalation,” Barnard said. “We use a nuke, even just a tactical one, and they respond with a tactical nuke of their own. So we use a bigger one. Next thing you know there are nuclear missiles raining down out of the skies and the only winners will be the cockroaches.”

“Better that than handing the whole world over to the Pukes,” The Tsar said.

“Why do you say that?” Price asked.

“They’re going to kill us all anyway,” The Tsar said. “Let’s go down fighting.”

“And leave planet toxic for hundreds of thousands of years,” Monster said.

“They’re not going to kill us all,” Wall said. “They need us. They’re trying to take over, not to destroy us.”

“Did they teach you that at Uluru?” The Tsar asked.

“As it happens, yeah,” Wall said.

“I bet they told you a lot of things,” Price said.

“They wiped out everyone in Indonesia,” The Tsar said.

“I know,” Wall said. “To show the rest of the world what would happen if they did not cooperate. Since then they have subjugated, but not exterminated the countries they have overrun.”

“You sure you’re on our side?” The Tsar asked.

“Don’t be a moron,” Wall said. “I’m just saying that it’s better to be alive than dead.”

“It’s better to be dead than a slave,” The Tsar said.

“Why?” Barnard asked. “How is that an improvement?”

“At least if you are alive, you have the chance to fight back,” Wall said.

“But once we start down the path of nuclear weapons, there is no turning back,” Barnard said.

“So what do we do, LT?” The Tsar said.

“This changes everything,” Price said. “We agreed to have a go. To do what we could. But we didn’t agree to this. We didn’t sign up for nukes.”

There was silence.

“Changes nothing,” Monster said. “We stop bridgers, or die trying. We die by gun or nuke, no matter, we still dead.”

“I’m with the big guy,” The Tsar said.

“If we stop the bridgers, they won’t need the nukes,” Barnard said. “It still comes down to us. I’m in.”

They all looked at Wall.

“Are you guys mad?” he asked.

The Tsar shrugged. The rest stared.

“You are mad,” he said. “But it’s my kind of mad, balls and all. I’m in.”

“We’d better hurry,” Monster said, then he did something that was very un-Monster-like. He moved to Price and put his arms around her, hugging her, never minding the stares of the others.

“We do the right thing,” Monster whispered in her ear. “But I don’t think we coming home from this one.”

She hugged him back, for a long time unwilling to let him go.

“I know what you did for Emile,” she said. “You tried to save him. I was wrong. I am sorry.”

“I didn’t try hard enough,” Monster said.

“You tried harder than anyone could have been expected to try,” she said. “Big Billy told me.”

“I don’t remember much of it,” Monster admitted.

“Yes,” she said. “He told me that too.”

[MISSION DAY 3, FEBRUARY 18, 2033. 1225 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

[BERING STRAIT, ALASKA]

The coast of Alaska was slipping quickly past. Wilton felt cold, and it was not from the temperature, which was comfortable inside the cabin.

“When we get back to base,” Anderson said, “stay in the spitfire. We should be well away from the blast, and the hills should protect us from any shockwave, but the spitfire will keep us safe from fallout.”

“Captain Anderson, can you please look at the tactical scope,” Wilton said. “At the rear of the Bzadian lines.”

“What the hell is that?” Anderson asked. “One of our troop transporters? What is it doing all the way back there?”

“It’s the Angels,” Wilton said.

“Your old mates?” Anderson said. “I thought they were shut down.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” Wilton said.

“What the hell are they doing there? They’re way behind enemy lines,” Anderson said.

“They’re a recon team,” Wilton said. “They’re supposed to be behind enemy lines. They’re going after the bridging units.”

“They’ll never make it,” Anderson said.

“Not on their own, they won’t,” Wilton said.

“Uh-uh, no way,” Anderson said. “This place is about to go nuclear popsicle. We’ve been ordered to get clear.”

“I know that, captain,” Wilton said. “I bet the Angels know it too.”

There was silence for a moment, then Anderson reached out and flicked the com onto the open channel, so all the other members of their squadron could hear.

“Wilton, repeat what you just told me,” she said.