“I just told you I will launch our ICBMs later.”
“Yes, I stand corrected.”
“Unless you believe I still wanted to launch them now.”
Shun Li opened her mouth, but found herself unable to articulate her words.
“Still, that is cunning reasoning, Shun Li—that America could be enticing us to strike while their defenses are on maximum alert.” Hong nodded thoughtfully. “I see that you are finally becoming dangerous, Police Minister.”
Fear washed through Shun Li. She understood the threat, and she recalled how quickly Kiang had perished. One of these days, someone had to beat the Leader to the draw.
As the Chinese laser ABM stations and PBW sites poured their beams into the lead Orion ship, the full extent of the THOR bundles maneuvered into position using cold gas.
At a signal from Lexington, Kentucky, the bundles expanded into individual crowbar-sized missiles. Gravity tugged them earthward, and soon they sped for the twin targets of the PBW sites at Xi’an and Lanzhou.
A radar specialist in Beijing picked up the THORs. Chinese Space Defense had become expert at the deadly signature. An order sped throughout China’s Space Command.
The PBW stations quit beaming the Orion ship and targeted individual THORs. China’s Space Defense was the best, and their reaction time was startling. The PBWs destroyed eighty-five percent of the incoming meteors. This time, however, it was too few.
Seven THOR missiles struck the Xi’an station, obliterating it. Seconds later, the strike against the Lanzhou station left it a smoldering ruin.
If the Chinese hadn’t already been focused on the three Orion ships, the THOR strike would have at best only taken out one site. Now, two were gone leaving China with seven PBW stations.
After two minutes of scanning orbital space for more THOR missiles, the seven PBW stations resumed their attack on the lead Orion ship.
Paul figured they must be maneuvering into deployment position. The God-knocking outside the spaceship had lessened considerably, enough so the captain came online to tell them to close their mouths before each bomb-blast.
The details: successful combat was all about taking pains with the tiny details like closing your mouth when a nuclear fuel-bomb went off. That way, you didn’t click your teeth together hard enough so you bit off some of your tongue.
“I hope everyone took their anti-motion pill,” the captain said.
Paul hadn’t. They still made him sick. He’d learned to endure, though.
“I won’t lie to you,” the captain said in his calm voice. “The Chinese are pouring it on, and they’ve gotten smart. Their lasers and particle beams are chewing apart Orion Ship Paul Bunyan. I don’t know if they’ll be able to launch their Marines. Still, there’s some good news. According to what I’m seeing, it looks as if our boys have taken out some of the enemy’s PBW sites and more of their laser stations. Oh-oh, hold on a minute.”
Beside Paul, Romo turned his faceplate toward him. It opened with a purr of sound and a click as it locked. Paul ordered his down too. The air in the compartment smelled like brunt electrical wire, while smoke drifted heavily. That couldn’t be good. He heard a bubbling sound from the other side of the nearest bulkhead, together with a hiss worse than a pissed-off python.
“Remember Lake Ontario?” Romo asked in a shaky voice.
“Sure do.”
“I wish I were back on the dinghy in the deep water.”
Romo hated water and amphibious operations. Maybe now he hated space missions even worse.
“The fun’s going to start soon,” Paul said. “Better seal up.”
“Amigo?”
“Yeah?”
Romo gave him a worried glance. Then the assassin grinned with false bravado. “You… you… are my best…”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “I know how you feel. Same here, my brother.”
Romo’s grin became genuine. “Once we’re down… I’m going to find me a Chinese girl…”
The entire compartment shook, and a loud screech made Paul wince. What caused that? Nothing good, he was sure.
“Get ready for maneuvering,” the captain said in Paul’s headphones, and likely in Romo’s too. “This will be it. Then you have three minutes to cocoon.”
Romo swore quietly in Spanish.
With his gut tightening, Paul closed his faceplate. Twenty seconds later:
Silence.
“Paul Bunyan has maneuvered ahead of us,” the captain said in a thick voice. “Half its Marines are already dead. Paul Bunyan will attempt to shield us while we deploy. You’d better remember us, and you’d better remember your people back home. Give them hell, Marines. Show the Chinese they messed with the wrong country.”
Sweat beaded Paul’s forehead. His suit’s air-conditioner clicked on, blowing coolness over his face. Just how hot was it inside the Orion ship?
“Time to cocoon,” the captain said. “Go with God’s grace, Marines.”
Paul’s buckles blew away. He sat up, pushing off the acceleration couch. With a careful jump, he sailed to his cocoon. Weightlessness ruled the compartment. The “cocoon” was a cylindrical coffin, and it belonged to an assembly line of similar coffins. He glanced at Romo. The assassin already wriggled into his cylinder.
This was possibly the worst part of orbital dropping. Each Orion ship would fire Marines like pellets in a shotgun shell. The launchers would blast them in pods of five, as if it was some ancient handgun with multiple barrels.
“I’m in,” Paul told his suit.
With the code word, the cylinder became his private amusement park ride. Cushioned bars snapped into place, locking him into position. The top slid shut, sealing him inside. Claustrophobia hit. He began swearing, cursing at his fear. It helped just enough so he didn’t rave. The sweat intensified, and the cool blowing air on his face told him he was still alive.
Yeah, alive in LEO, Low Earth Orbit, the height of his previous space jumps. The Orion ships would be drifting over Chinese space now, making the final calibrations. The enemy used lasers and particle beams. That meant— A clack and sudden movement blanketed his thoughts. They’d practiced this in simulators, but no one had ever fired Marines into combat before. He’d heard a hundred lectures about this…
Another clack brought another sharp movement to the cylinder. A distant WHAM told him the first pod, the first five men, left the ship’s firing tubes, heading down like meteors.
Clack, WHAM… clack, WHAM… clack, WHAM… Paul counted four launches when everything changed for him. A resounding CLANG told him his cylinder had entered a firing tube.
“Cheri,” he whispered, with his fist clenched.
It felt as if another Weapons-grade U-235 blew under him. Massive acceleration pushed him down. He’d be three inches shorter after this was done. Yeah, he’d— Nothing, silence, weightlessness—he was out of the launch tube and free of Daniel Boone. There wasn’t much hope for the captain and crew. They would try to space jump at the end, land somewhere in China, provided the Orion ship couldn’t get onto the other side of the planet, away from Chinese beams.
Paul swore softly. He knew the routine. He could recite it in his sleep. The cylinder had layers, onionskins, chutes, decoys, emitters— Don’t think about it. Enjoy the ride down. This is nothing. Wait until the final layer burns away.