Doomsday Warrior 05 - America’s Last Declaration (20 page)

“Excellent,” Rock said, looking down at the three-dimensional contoured map of the Rocky Mountain range that filled the table. “What else do we have, what’s our combat fire power?”

“We’re in the best shape we’ve ever been in right now. Two large munitions convoys were attacked within the last six months carrying heavy stuff. We’ve got brand-new still-in-the-crate mortars, .55s, recoilless rifles, nearly two dozen stream-lined field cannons, a ton of grenades and magnesium bombs. I needn’t go on—we’ve got more than enough for the number of people we’re going to be able to send out to battle.”

“Well, we’ve got the tools,” Rock said, looking around at the assembled officers, the men and women who would have to decide on the strategy that would save or destroy Century City—and perhaps the world.

“I’ve got a few thoughts on that,” General Crawford said, her blue eyes gleaming in her deeply wrinkled sixty-year-old face. Crawford had begun her career in the army unwittingly. At Century City University as a young woman she had majored in Russian Studies—reading and absorbing everything she could on the nation that ruled a global empire. Her expertise over the years made her the leading mind on understanding the Red mentality. Gradually her studies headed toward the military machinations of the Red army, its weaponry and strategies. Before long she had become the city’s military staffs main consultant, spending her time helping them develop counterstrategies to the Russian brand of war. Somehow over the years, she had become one of them, been given a rank and a uniform and, without anyone really noticing, worked her way up to the rank of general. Her words were highly respected by everyone on the military council, and though just a frail-looking thing, more like somebody’s grandmother than the razor-sharp analytic brain that she was, her words brought instant silence.

“Go ahead,” Rock said, smiling. Although they had had their run-ins over the years, as Rock had had with all the top army brass, he knew she knew her stuff.

“Well, we have to understand the military mind of the Reds in order to predict what they’re going to do. There are basically two things to take into account here. One—the Reds have operated under the same basic strategic guidelines since World War II when they fought the Nazis. That is, large, dare I say gigantic, concentrations of troops and armor sweeping forward as a single unit. They believe in the power of strength, brute strength. There’s little subtlety involved in how they operate. Secondly, they need to create an image, a dramatic demonstration not just to us but to the rest of the freefighters in America—that they can crush us as easily as an ant. Both these factors lead me to believe that Rath’s conclusions about their beginning the main thrust from Forrester Valley with virtually everything they’ve got is true.”

“But the Nazis are running the show,” Rock protested. “This Von Reisling—surely he’ll prefer to use the German tactics developed by the Third Reich.”

“I doubt it, Rock,” General Crawford went on. “You’ve got to remember the paranoia of the Russian command. In their own way they’re probably quite apprehensive about turning this Nazi army loose. How do they know it won’t turn again
them
at some point? The Russians and the Germans have fought more wars than there are teeth in a sabre-bear. They’ve got a history of confrontation and mistrust between them that goes back for centuries. I’ll stake my reputation on the fact that the tactical maneuvers have been drawn up by the Russian high command and that the Germans will have little latitude in carrying them out. They’ll be there all right, the entire goddamned army, all quarter million men will no doubt join in the Valley and then begin an advance several miles wide, sweeping north until they find us. In my opinion the time to strike would be there. We know where they’ll be, all their forces will be contained in a box in effect twenty miles long by five miles wide. Strike and strike hard,” Crawford said, slamming her thin veiny fist down on the table top. “We can’t let them begin advancing through the mountains beyond that—or it will be too late.”

“I agree with your analysis,” Rock said. “I think we must strike—with everything we’ve got. Flank them, break up the large force into smaller units that we can more readily attack. Our strategy must be to create confusion, break down their communications, destroy their offensive advance before it even has a chance to get going.”

The rest of the staff concurred. They spent the next few hours hammering out just how their attack and defensive maneuvers would proceed, at last reaching a general consensus.

1) Construction and demolition crews would construct, in the old gold mine ten miles south of the valley, five fake Century Cities, complete with entrances and makeshift structures inside that created the appearance of a real city. They would be filled to the brim with high explosives. The Nazis might waste precious days, battling their way into each of these—giving the freefighters more time to deploy.

2) Three fallback positions, each the responsibility of different units of the city’s army would be set up, in five mile intervals falling back from the Valley.

3) The basic attack force would consist of fifteen thousand troops broken into five basic forces. A) Artillery and heavy machine-gun units that would be set up at the northern edge of the Valley on the slopes that rose above them. B) Combat units, armed with Liberators, smaller machine guns and grenades that would take up camouflaged positions on the lower portions of the slopes, holding back whatever troops actually reached the bottom of the mountains there. C) A cavalry riding hybrids that would pour into the Nazi forces from the right and left flank and if possible from their rear. They would be broken down into twenty-man units, all carrying satchel charges that they would heave into the heaviest concentrations of equipment and troops. D) The Rapid Deployment Strike Force, using the choppers, would sweep the Valley wreaking havoc. Their main target would be the tanks leading the advance. E) Guerrilla attack units under the direct command of Rockson himself would enter the field of combat dressed in the same color uniforms as the Nazis. They would try to infiltrate the ranks—and their main targets would be officers, especially Von Reisling. If they could take out enough of the field command, the battle would collapse out of sheer confusion. F) A special unit of men who had become proficient in the use of the remaining four black beam pistols would be spaced a mile apart with the artillery units. Their main target would be Red helicopters and jet fighters.

4) If all else failed, Century City would be evacuated through tunnels that led out the back, surfacing three miles north of the underground fortress. The city itself would be blown up with booby traps—creating a living hell for the Germans and their Red masters. It all sounded good—on paper.

“Now what about our communications systems?” Major Norton asked. “The Nazis will be able to hear our attack commands—that is, if they don’t use jamming equipment to cut off our radio and walkie-talkie systems altogether.”

“I think I’ve got a possible solution,” Rock said. “I know it sounds a little crazy—but when I was with the Glowers they taught me how to use certain telepathic abilities that apparently are latent in all mutants. I’ve experimented with it to some extent and have been able to make contact with other of the star-patterned mutants in the city. There are about twenty of us by now. I suggest we use our electronic communications network—in code—but if the Nazis are able to shut it down, by whatever means, that we have a fallback system of mutant telepaths interspersed among all our forces so we can remain in contact.” The officers looked a little skeptical—but there was nothing to lose at this stage of the game.

“One final question,” Rock said, “before we get this whole ballgame going. How long do we have?”

“I’d say up to a week, Rock,” General Crawford replied from across the table. “This is a major event for the Reds. Jesus, it’s one of the largest deployments of men in history. You’ve already humiliated Premier Vassily. He can’t take another of the same magnitude—or his very power base might crumble around him. No, I’m sure the Germans have been ordered to get everything exactly right, every man, every tank working and ready to go before they risk striking. They’ve got as much to lose as we do. A week—ten days at the most.”

“Well, if we can’t get it together in that time—we might as well forget about it,” Rock said. “Good luck. And God help us all.”

The meeting broke up as the military council rushed off to prepare their units for the battle strategy. Rock called all the star-patterned mutants like himself, those with the slightly luminous five-pointed star on their lower backs, together for the training session in ESP. Even he felt quite unsure of its feasibility. But anything was worth a try. He gathered them around him—Parcell, Watkins, Mooney, even Rona—in Chen’s martial arts gymnasium. With its white walls and bare furnishings it was the ideal place, without distractions, to see if the rest of the Century City mutants could do a damned thing with their abilities—or whether Rock could teach them. He explained the battle they were all about to face and just how the telepathy could be used for communications. They sat around him on soft tatami mats, listening intently.

“Now I know you’re all quite skeptical about this,” Rock said, standing in the middle of the seated circle. “Well—so am I. But I know the damned stuff works, because I’ve experienced it myself. It’s subtle, very hard to use—but it does exist. The Glowers communicate only through telepathy and I’ll tell you when you hear all those minds joining, speaking at once, it’s something you’ll never forget. Scientists have known for centuries that animals, certain species, exhibit communication abilities that cannot be explained except through some sort of telepathic ability. Even ordinary homo sapiens receive dim thoughts from those around them. But we filter it all out—as adults anyway. It would be too frightening to know what the hell is going on in everyone’s mind—so the brain sabotages the potential for ESP by inhibiting these abilities. In us, the star-patterned mutants, who Dr. Shecter believes are the next evolutionary stage of mankind, the ESP capability is much greater. This accounts, I believe, for the so-called mutant’s luck that I’m sure we’ve all experienced. That uncanny ability we have to survive where others don’t—to somehow just know many times what is going to happen next.

“Now I learned from the Glowers how to increase, to amplify our special thought-sending and receiving so that we can consciously use it to communicate—theoretically through almost any distance, through rock, steel walls. The telepathic wave, whatever it is, does not seem to be stopped by solid material. I learned from them out of desperation—Kim Langford, the president’s daughter, was about to die. The Glowers needed my special connection to her to enter her nervous system and put their own healing powers into use.” Rock noticed Rona looking up at him with clenched teeth as he mentioned Kim’s name. But this was no time to hold anything back. With the survival of the very city at stake, Rock couldn’t spare personal feelings—even Rona’s.

“Now the telepathic ability seems to rise in power under situations of extreme desperation, fear, anger, whatever. Hormones are literally pumped into the body that must escalate certain electrical systems within our bodies, so that without even realizing it—we send out calls for help, try to read our attackers’ thoughts. It works the same in mutant’s luck stories—you’ve probably all experienced it. How you got a shiver of apprehension, of danger, and stepped back as someone shot, or moved just as a snar-lizard snapped its jaws. Now, in order for you to learn you have to become desperate, anxious, even terrified. And the situation we’re about to face is—I’m sad to say—tailor-made for those sorts of emotions. Because the key to this battle is communications—safe, undetectable communications instantly between all our scattered forces. If the Nazis can hear us they’ll know our moves—and our positions.” He looked around at them with a quizzical smile. Every face stared up with fascination—and not a small amount of fear.

“Well, let’s give it a try,” the Doomsday Warrior said. “I’ll work with you one at a time to try and get you to feel what I’m talking about. Any questions?” No one uttered a word.

They lined up and Rock pressed his widespread fingers against each forehead. He jagged his thoughts of destruction, hellfire, rape and torture into each brain, sending out the most powerful terrifying images he could muster. And they felt them, drawing back in horror as the death visions entered their minds. They felt both elated and disturbed at the process, wanting to help but feeling that perhaps they were opening up a box that would thereafter never close. But there was no choice.

“OK, now you’ve at least felt the stuff,” Rock said, after he’d worked for a few minutes with each one. “Now I want you to break up into groups of twos and try it yourself. Don’t worry about sending complex thoughts right now—just fear, anger. The strong emotions. We can work on the more subtle possibilities later. Meanwhile I’ll work individually with each of you to help you focus.”

He chose Rona first for his one-to-one. They were already connected by many emotions. She would undoubtedly make the quickest link-up with him—and that would give the others confidence in themselves that it was really possible. They sat kneeling, their faces just inches apart. Rock put his hands over her head and closed his eyes.

“You can hear me,” he sent out, concentrating all his energy into that single mental burst. “I’m going to send you images and I want you to feel them and try to send back to me what you see. OK?”

Rona smiled at him, and said softly, “Go ahead, Rock.”

He began sending out the foulest thoughts he could—images in his memory of death, mutilation, of bodies lying rotting in fields, of the mindbreaker machine drilling into brain cavities sending up funnels of smoking tissue. He sent out thoughts of all the horror and monstrosities he had seen in his life. And he had seen much.

She winced with the pain of the images. At first they were dim, hazy floating circles of death. But within minutes, as she opened her mind in spite of her fear, the images solidified and she felt and saw things she had never imagined in her darkest dreams. Suddenly she screamed out, in spite of herself. The pain was unbearable. Rock stopped for a moment and held her. Without talking, he telepathically spoke to her.