Invasion: Alaska Read online

  Then it was over. No more Chinese fired back. All the trucks had stopped, several of them were burning, and all of them had flat tires. Bill found himself blinking in shock at what he’d done.

  “We did it,” Carlos said. The Militia corporal was shaking. “I helped you kill men.” Carlos was wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

  Why do we feel so unclean?

  Carlos twisted onto his hands and knees, puking on the ground.

  Something about that woke Bill to their danger. “We have to go,” he said. “Now!” Then he realized he heard a chopper. It wasn’t right on top of them yet, but he was sure it was coming for them. “Go!” Bill roared at the other team.

  “We still have ammo!” one of them shouted. “We’re taking it.”

  “Okay,” Bill said. “Carlos?”

  “I’m fine,” Carlos said, getting up and wiping his mouth. Then the corporal picked up the tripod mount, handing it to Bill. Afterward, the bank clerk wrestled the heavy machinegun onto his shoulder. It was a grim burden.

  “Come on, Nanook,” Bill said softly, helping his friend to his feet. “We have to run into the woods.”

  “We got them,” Nanook whispered. “We did it.”

  “We’re fighting,” Bill said, as he picked a box of ammo. Nanook took another box before heading deeper into the pines. “We’re going to keep fighting,” said Bill. “Maybe if there are enough of us doing this, it will help us win the war.”

  “We’ll win,” said Carlos. There was conviction in his voice.

  “I hope you’re right,” said Bill. He knew Carlos, however. The man said that even when he was losing twenty to three playing one-on-one basketball. That was probably better than having a bitter pessimist along. The chopper sounded closer now, so Bill increased the pace, hoping Nanook could keep up with them. After what he’d just done, he knew he had to bring Nanook home or he could never preach again. He had to atone someway for all this dreadful killing.

  ANCHORAGE, ALASKA

  Lieutenant Chiang of the Eagle Teams squinted at a bomber roaring over his position. It had a maple leaf painted on the wing.

  “The Canadians are here,” he told his First Rank.

  Chiang and his First Rank held a sandbag strongpoint at the airport. Three times, they had fought off the Americans trying to retake the place. They’d used up all their RPGs and most of their assault-gun ammo. Some time ago, he had lost contact with the commander.

  “We need to be re-supplied and reinforced,” the First Rank said.

  Chiang nodded. “I don’t think Admiral Ling counted on the Canadians joining the fight.”

  “Sir!” the First Rank said, interrupting. “Look over there.”

  A Bradley clanked around a building. This one had Canadian markings.

  “We need a RPG,” the First Rank said bitterly.

  Chiang debated putting on his jetpack and flying one last time. He loved drifting in the air like a bird. Then the Bradley fired. Chiang and the First Rank ducked, but it didn’t matter. The shell hit and Lieutenant Chiang died defending the Anchorage airport.

  PRCN SUNG

  Admiral Ling stared at the table in his ready room. He had taken the international airport. Then the Canadians had decided to play the part of men. A costly air battle with them had kept him from reinforcing his war-winning move in Anchorage. Even now, Canadian and American soldiers reoccupied the airport.

  If that wasn’t enough, American partisans harried his supply-lines. The partisans bled him of precious munitions. Worst of all, however, was the incompetence of the Chairman’s nephew, the Vice-Admiral.

  “No!” said Ling. He struck a table and his eyes were red with anger and lack of sleep. “The imbecile, the buffoon! How dare he cheat me of my carefully wrought victory. I have paid with precious Chinese blood for this chance to roar our troops to Anchorage. Now this opportunity to quickly advance is being snatched out of my hands.”

  “Please, Admiral, I ask you to calm down,” Commodore Yen said.

  “How can I calm down when that fool nephew of the Chairman has thrown my carefully calculated plans into disarray?”

  “You shouldn’t say such things.”

  “Do you deny that his imbecility has hopelessly entangled our two commands?”

  “He is eager for the laurels—”

  “I will not listen to you defend him!” Ling shouted. “He has cost me a quick victory. Our brigades are now hopelessly entangled on Highway One. Everything has been brought to a standstill. Worse, the Canadians have infused the Americans with badly needed planes and reinforcements. It gave the Americans time to deal with the Eagle Teams in Anchorage. No doubt, they will now race reinforcements to their shattered troops clinging to the highway.”

  “The Canadians were a surprise. There was nothing we could do about them, sir. I also realize the Vice-Admiral acted precipitously, but you dare not relieve him of duty.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Ling asked.

  Commodore Yen sat down.

  Ling turned away. He had read the reports. A huge traffic jam now ensnarled the lead brigades of the two separate commands. It would take days to sort it out. During those days, the Americans could reestablish another strong defensive line. It would give them that much more time to receive reinforcements and supplies from Fairbanks. At least that much had worked. The Eagle Teams, while they had lived, had demolished much of the Anchorage airport.

  “Sir, what about these partisans destroying our supplies?” asked Yen. “They are starting to become a problem.”

  “The Americans are lice,” muttered Ling, “gun-carrying lice. I never knew a land could possess so many civilian weapons. It will make our occupation that much harder.”

  “Perhaps the White Tiger Commandoes could deal with these rear-area partisans.”

  Ling’s breathing lessened. At last, the admiral nodded. “Yes, we must continue fighting. We must battle it out to the end because the Vice-Admiral threw his brigades after the Americans. If only the man could listen to orders.”

  “The time for vengeance will come, sir.”

  Ling slammed his fist on the table. “I don’t care about vengeance. I care about winning this war. We must win! We must win soon. Time runs against us.”

  “We shall win, sir. You broke the Americans once. You shattered their defenses. You will do so again.”

  Admiral Ling nodded. “Let us hope you are right.”

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Anna Chen settled into her chair in White House Bunker Number Five. She wore her hair down, a conservative dress and make-up. She wore heels, but not too high. With her legs crossed, she listened to the others. Ever since she’d given the President the okay to use a nuclear-tipped torpedo on an Arctic supply dump, he had desired her opinion more often. Fortunately, the U.S. military had refrained from using more nuclear weapons.

  “Sir,” said the Defense Secretary, “I’m against making this move now.”

  “I have to agree with him, Mr. President,” the Secretary of State said.

  President Clark nodded solemnly, with his hands folded on the table. “Ms. Chen, what do you think?”

  “What do your admirals say, Mr. President?” Anna asked.

  Clark glanced at General Alan.

  “Half agree that the Chinese Carrier Fleet has taken heavy air losses during the campaign,” General Alan said. “The Canadians have aided us at a most critical moment. The two American carrier-wings could possibly slip in and catch the invasion fleet by surprise, doing severe damage. The other admirals point out that the two Atlantic carriers are almost to Central America on the Pacific side. Together, our four carriers could well force the seven Chinese carriers away from Alaska. They suggest that would win us the war.”

  “You know what the admirals think, sir,” Anna told the President. “What do your generals say about Anchorage?”

  “They’ve never changed their tune,” the Defense Secretary said, interrupting. “The generals want the Navy to bail t
hem out of a bad situation. The generals keep screaming they need more air cover to do anything. Thanks to the Canadians, Anchorage is still in American hands. Mr. President,” the Defense Secretary said with urgency. “We must hold in Anchorage with what we have before we throw away the carriers that could win us everything.”

  “The Chinese naval infantry keep advancing, breaking through our defenses,” said Clark. “Soon, the Chinese will be in Anchorage’s suburbs. We have to stop them.”

  “Soldiers always cry for more aid,” Colin Green said. “I suggest you wait out events until they turn in our favor just as happened with the Prime Minister.”

  “I don’t agree,” Anna said. Colin Green shot her a venomous glance. She ignored it.

  “Do you see something the rest of us are missing?” Clark asked her.

  “Sir,” the Defense Secretary said. “Ms. Chen knows her Chinese and possibly the Chairman’s mindset, but I do not think she is an expert on military matters.”

  “She’s brought us luck,” said Clark. “The Chinese ice-mobile formations haven’t attacked our North Slope. I think we’re winning there. We’ve frightened them by our resolve. Are you saying,” the President asked Anna, “that we can frighten the Chinese now by attacking their fleet?”

  “The air war seems like the critical factor, Mr. President,” Anna said. She’d heard one of the air chiefs tell the President that over the speakerphone. “We need more fighters now so the Chinese can’t dominate the skies over the battlefield. Well, the Navy has more fighters. Send them into battle at this decisive moment, before the Chinese break into Anchorage or take the airport a second time. I’ve heard everyone say that once Anchorage falls, South Central Alaska falls. If South Central Alaska falls, the State falls. This could be the defining moment of the battle.”

  “You don’t know that,” the Defense Secretary said.

  “That the Chinese are closing in on Anchorage tells me that I do,” Anna said, surprised at her boldness.

  “Yes!” Clark said, standing. He struck the table with his knuckles. “Anna Chen is our Chinese expert. She gave me excellent advice concerning the nuclear weapon under the polar ice.”

  “If you’ll recall, Mr. President,” the Defense Secretary said, “I’ve always suggested we go nuclear.”

  “Yes, you did say that,” Clark admitted, frowning now.

  “If you’ve made your decision, sir,” General Alan said, “I’d like to call the Navy and tell them to proceed.”

  Clark blinked at Anna Chen. Then the President told General Alan, “Give them the go-head.”

  MUKDEN, P.R.C.

  Captain Han was a wreck. The prolonged exposure to frontal assaults with remote-controlled Marauders—and the accompanying ‘death-shocks’—had caused a decline in the captain’s performance and mental health. His superiors had taken notice and sent him to a nexus psychiatrist.

  “You must harden your resolve,” the psychiatrist now told him. The stern major wore a compelling black uniform, which tightly conformed to her figure. She had particularly large breasts, which strained at the buttons of her uniform.

  “The shocks—” Han said.

  “No!” the psychiatrist said, sitting up, frowning and tapping the computer-slate which she held in her lap. “You are not here to complain against stated procedures. You are here for me to cure you of your maladjustments.”

  “…the shocks cause me to fear,” said Han. As much as he preferred Japanese schoolgirls, the major intrigued him.

  “What did I just say, Captain?” the major asked.

  Han wasn’t sure what she’d said, but he wanted her to frown again.

  “Captain Han, do I have your attention?”

  He stood at parade rest as she sat in a chair beside him. Her office contained many diplomas hanging from the walls, as well as pictures of her with highly-ranked Party officials and officers. There were also many brightly-colored geometric shapes in the room on tables and stands.

  Han began to unbutton his jacket as he imagined her—

  “Captain Han,” she said, snapping her fingers.

  Han blinked in surprise at his open jacket. What had he been doing?

  With a computer-stylus, she jotted on her slate, writing quickly.

  “What are you writing about me?” he asked, wanting to look. She held her slate so he couldn’t see.

  “That is no concern of yours,” she said. She clicked the stylus onto the slate, setting it on her nylon-covered knees. “You are a clever man, a noted computer specialist. Surely, you must understand the necessity of the simulated shocks as you remote-control military vehicles from your pit.”

  “Yes. It’s been explained to me many times.”

  “Then I fail to understand—”

  “What if you were shocked every time you failed your appointed task?” Han asked.

  Her back stiffened, and she spoke with a nasal quality. “I’m not the one under interrogation.”

  “Interrogation?” asked Han, alarmed for the first time. He’d thought this was a mental-health reevaluation. An interrogation could bring serious demerits to his military profile.

  She gave him a shark-like smile and nodded primly. “Finally, I have your attention. That is an improvement. Now listen closely, Captain. The authorities have created a new penal remote-control center where they will double the intensity of the death-shocks.”

  “But that’s hideous!” cried Han.

  “Ah,” she said, picking up the stylus. “Was that a subversive comment against the State?”

  “What?” asked Han. “No, no.”

  “What did you mean then with your objection?” she asked, with the stylus poised.

  Han thought furiously. “I-I thought you were here to help me.”

  “I am,” she said. “I am here to help you regain your martial fervor for the honor of Chinese conquest. Your superiors feel you have become self-absorbed and spend far too much time worrying about your physical and mental well-being. What you need to remember, Captain, is that China not only possesses the oldest culture on the planet, but the most superior culture as well. You are part of that culture, not an individualized person as the enemy suggests. You are united into a powerful whole and must always think of China’s good before you agonize over your own petty problems.”

  “I totally agree with you,” Han said.

  She shook her head. “You do not say that with true zeal. In fact, your words just now sounded forced, as if you spoke to guard yourself from further punishment.”

  Han forced urgency into his words even as he remained at parade rest with his hands behind his back. “I love China.”

  “Do you really, Captain Han, or do you just say that to avoid transfer to the new penal remote-controlling unit?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I love my country more than anything else in the world.”

  “Do you love China more than your own miserable creature comforts?”

  “I do, I do,” Han said.

  “I see,” she said, studying him. “Would you give up your rank for China’s greater glory?”

  “Yes,” said Han, wondering if they were going to kick him out of the Space Service. At this point, that might be a good thing.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Your profile states quite clearly,” she said, glancing at her slate, “that you are very proud of your status in the Chinese Space Service.”

  “It is the greatest achievement of my life,” said Han.

  “Yet for the love of China, you would willingly give it up?”

  “Utterly,” said Han.

  The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lipstick-painted lips. “Then I must tell you this, Captain Han. And I want you to listen most closely. Are you listening?”

  He nodded fervently, beginning to hate her. He should strip off her nylons and flip up her skirt, put her over his knees and spank her until she begged him to stop.

  She snapped her fingers. “What is that look in your eyes?” she asked.
“They glaze over as I speak to you. Are you drugged, Captain Han?”

  “I’ve worked hard for China’s glory,” he said quietly, trying to pump patriotism into his words. What was wrong with him? Why did he keep sinking into his sexual fantasies? Was it a side-effect of the many dosages of S-15 they kept injecting into him? “It has been my privilege to strive for China’s honor, yet I’ve begun to wonder lately if I’ve overworked myself. I might no longer be able to function with full efficiency. Perhaps I must decline returning to the remote—”

  The major laughed. “That is a good try, Captain. But you have apparently forgotten that I am a psychiatrist. I can see through your pathetic attempt to dodge the death-shocks. You may love China, but you love your own well-being far too much. That is clear. Now you may avoid further death-shocks by admitting to me that you’re a coward. Then I will request the enforcing arm of the remote-controllers to make an example of you. We psychiatrists designed the shocks to stimulate a soldier’s battlefield efforts. We wanted you remote-controllers to perform your tasks with zeal. We wanted you to act with a soldier’s kill-or-die fervor.”

  “But I’ve been part of the suicide assaults!” cried Han. “Your reasoning and the shocks are unjust.”

  “Stop right there or face the enforcement arm,” the major said coldly. “Your kind disgusts me.” She shook her head. “I can hardly force myself to give you another chance. Still, I follow my orders instead of indulging in my desire, which is to see a worm like you punished to the full extent of the military penal code. However, because I am here to give you a choice, I will still allow you to make one. Tell me which you prefer: enforcement or the chance to win even more glory by returning to your remote-controlling station?”

  “Are there others like me?” asked Han. “Men who are tiring of the shocks?”

  Her features tightened. “That is privileged information, Captain. Now you must give me your choice.”

  Han almost turned and slapped her face, and there was no telling what he would have done next. Maybe he would have raped her here in the office. He’d never forget the experience. His shoulders slumped. The problem was that East Lightning would torture him a long time if he did that. Han hung his head. He nodded submissively.