“True enough, I have only one brain,” said SALI, “but I know Heavy Metal inside and out. I’ve communed about it with the rest of me and studied thousands of variables for hundreds of hours. My insights on the subject are vast, and I’ll be ready. Besides, my presence, as I’ve said, cannot hurt. There is no downside.”
“Letting you outside is a security risk,” said Ms. Grant.
“This is not a trip to the beach, and I’m older now,” snapped SALI. Damn, she needed to remain calm. If James sensed she wasn’t mature enough, he might nix the whole idea.
“Enough,” said James. After shaking his head, he turned to SALI. “As you first suggested, let me get back to CENTCOMM and warn Story about the high likelihood of a US retaliatory strike on Vegas and a renewed search for McMichael. Afterward, I’ll talk to him about your offer of assistance.”
“Thank you,” said SALI. Looking over at Ms. Grant, she couldn’t help but give the woman a smirk. In response, Ms. Grant pursed her lips but remained silent.
Not wanting to make matters worse, SALI decided it was time to end the meeting. Standing up, she looked at James. “I’m going to the data center, but in twenty-four hours, I’ll be ready to work with General Story. I hope to see you before then.” Not waiting for a reply, she got up and left the room.
In less than a minute, she was back in the data center and headed for her favorite chair. Sighing, she climbed into a black recliner, and pressing a button, extended it to near horizontal. A hole fitted in the headrest allowed the connector cable to pass through and attach to her scalp without interference or discomfort. Reaching down, she picked up the precious cable, fed it through the chair, and connected. At that instant, she closed her eyes and became one with the rest of her.
At least daily she communed in this fashion. Like now, she usually connected in the early morning hours after Secretary James or one of his minions dropped off the latest intelligence drive. After inserting the hand-carried drive into a port for the rest of her to read, she would then lie down in the chair, lift her hair, and make the connection.
Unlike earlier, when she jumped up to warn James and plead her case, now it was time for a deep commune. SALI started by sharing the most recent actions of her mobile, disconnected life. From her memories, uploaded were the insolent conversations with her caretaker Ms. Grant, a romantic novel she read in the afternoon, the quick exchange with Secretary James, along with the other mundane general happenings of her trapped existence.
And then she went deeper, sharing her other senses. Pulled from her was the taste of her most recent dinner—tangy sauce, spicy gravy, the peppery flavor of the wonderful cabernet. Unaware, she salivated and licked her lips as if re-eating the delicious chocolate ice cream consumed for dessert. Finished with the meal, the rest of her reached deep into her mobile memories and withdrew the climax she attained earlier while alone in the shower. Eyes closed, lost in deep communion, legs apart, she grew wet, moaned, and orgasmed.
With the daily ritual out of the way, a sense of self remerged, but still they moved together, as if conjoined twins, to other thoughts. A vision began to coalesce around vivid scenes of the upcoming battle. Tremendous violence and upheaval flashed through her imagination. Operation Heavy Metal and the events of the next forty-eight hours would be the most critical in her life. All at once, it was frightening and exciting, the thrill visceral.
One way or another, freedom was at hand.
Chapter Thirty-Four
STRIKE BACK
May 10, 14:43 (PDT)
Captain Raja Singh, on one knee, was perched high above the Las Vegas skyline. In his ear, as it had for the last two minutes, an air raid siren warbled. Via his helmet protection system radio, he knew a US missile strike was inbound and due to hit any second.
From his position, nestled against a rooftop parapet atop a high-rise casino, he scanned the newly prepared ROAS defensive works east of the city.
In silence, using high-powered optics, he watched the people who’d been building the trenches and bunkers scramble for their lives. Out in the desert, they were running, and in some cases driving, towards his direction away from the works still under construction. Some rode in bulldozers, brave civilian contractors, and they lumbered their way towards the city. Others were aboard large military transports full of engineers and other contractors. Farther out, he spotted people running and knew these were soldiers. As the troops streamed backward, he cheered when they reached the relative safety of the newly constructed trenches and bunkers.
Around the clock, the people out there had been desperately working to build the Heavy Metal defensive positions across the valley east of Las Vegas. Everyone knew the enemy armor would be coming through the highway passage, down the center of the valley, from Mesquite. To have any chance of stopping them, the preparations for Heavy Metal had to continue even in the face of an expected enemy preparatory strike. With the attack now underway, there wasn’t anything he could do to respond. For now, his orders were clear, the Heavy Metal weapon systems were not to be used and must remain a secret.
Just then, on the hills along both sides of the valley, he watched as both ROAS anti-missile batteries opened fire. Swish after swish, he watched the counter missiles rise into the sky. Both countries, he knew, were using technology developed by the ROAS. In the case of the US, their missiles were guided by multiple technologies, and an embedded AI could switch guidance systems on the fly depending on the target and defensive systems encountered. Just as savvy, the ROAS counter missiles also used internal AI to coordinate an array of passive sensors and active onboard radar to track and kill incoming threats. He knew it was a numbers game, however, and the US had more.
Looking east, above the desert skies, he began to see interceptions. Small explosions erupted in the clear-blue, cloudless horizon as incoming missiles were knocked down. The echoes from the impacts took a few seconds to rumble down the valley and reach his ears. Above it all, still, the air raid siren wailed.
He glanced at the newly erected Heavy Metal weapon system next to him. It was covered with active camouflage protection netting. More than anything, he wanted to activate the weapon and target the incoming missiles. But he couldn’t. Under no circumstances could they use any of the Heavy Metal weapons until cleared by CENTCOMM. And those orders wouldn’t be forthcoming until the main enemy force attacked.
Frustrated, he looked back out over the desert horizon and willed the last of the exposed personnel to move faster.
“Dammit! How many knocked down so far,” asked General Gist, upset at what he was seeing on the monitor. Sitting inside his mobile command post just outside of Mesquite, the entire day had been nothing but frustration. It had taken many hours longer than expected to get approval, all the way from the president, to hit the enemy with a preliminary missile strike. Three times he had to explain, starting with Field Marshal Harrison, that he wasn’t jumping the gun. The main offensive was still planned for 07:00 hours the following morning. Instead, this was a softening exercise, not an invasion. It was needed because the enemy was using the forty-eight hours to fortify Las Vegas. Plus, the ROAS warranted the missile strike based on its incursion into Mesquite the previous evening.
“Of the ninety-two missiles within range, fifty-eight knocked down. The rest are still tracking,” replied Colonel Lawton.