The New Republic of Texas. E. Mandervellt
when bombarded moments later with a high-power, directed energy blast. After studying the pattern developing in the sand surrounding the regiment, she determined that the epicenter was directly below and large enough to engulf all twelve of her remaining units in the area of effect.
"Scramble!" Fowl ordered, far too late.
Five barely visible cones of heavy gamma radiation struck the ground directly ahead of five Axes before sharpening into bright beams of light as the tanks entered their boundaries. Sand was immediately turned to black glass which shattered in the violent eruption of her drones into great ropes of molten slag and ribbons of flame splashing out many meters from the impact areas.
The team was silent as they evaded debris or disengaged from their terminals. As the Aura in the room dimmed, Fowl became unsure. Sol had been deployed so few times that its capabilities were still a mystery, and she expected another primer within moments that would herald a volley of seven shots, completely eliminating what remained of her battalion and any chance of success. She dosed herself and leaned back, watching the tanks flow into evasive action.
"Maintain, Team!" Garret shouted. "We still have Our nukes." He pressed a key at his terminal and a camera feed from one of the tanks was displayed on the main view. On it was a large hull supported by four multi-jointed legs and adorned with two large, high-caliber barrels. Some joker over in the NROT maintenance depot had painted two claws on the front below an angry little face. "And now We have Crabs."
The first Abrams X to fire landed a direct hit, breaking through the armor of an NROT Lobber with a one kiloton tactical field nuke. The mobile artillery unit did look very much like a giant, metal crab strapped with dual cannons, and watching it crack apart on detonation gave the floundering team confidence and a much needed visceral rush. More Lobbers were appearing on sensors as they fired upon the Axes. Commander Garret was constantly assigning new targets and paths to his Pilots and they were doing an excellent job of evading the barrage. Their hit ratio was nearly one hundred percent and seven of the twelve hostiles detected had been hit.
The Flutter wing had abandoned their engagement of the Guards and were now strafing Lobbers with 30 mm rounds in an attempt to suppress fire from units the attack group had already passed. Cassandra was circling on a Lobber that shivered and twitched under a vengeful rain of bullets. Damage assessment was at sixty percent and the Flutter readied rocket pods for the kill. Suddenly, the Crab dashed backward and out of the line of fire whilst two panels on its posterior opened to reveal an array of missiles. They immediately fired and Cassandra did not have time to escape.
Fowl saw her reflection in the darkened terminal display. Eyes wide, heavy breathing. She was definitely triggered. The Admiral gave her a triple dose before returning attention to the display. Enemy artillery had taken out another two tanks, but the rest were only seventeen miles from Tango Alpha. Currently they entered the Pass, a canyon one half-mile wide and two miles long, that would deposit them on the plains that surrounded the facility where they would get their opportunity to strike. Fowl began to take heart. She leaned forward in her seat, envisioning the destruction of the target, trying her best to manifest that potential reality. She felt herself expanding out and into the Pilots, guiding them around enemy shells, dispelling their fears and anxieties. She was so engaged, focused only on the distance meter rapidly approaching zero, that she failed to register the shelling had ceased.
A blue flash startled Fowl and the onlookers whose units had been destroyed. Cassandra, eyes wide now with horror, let out a tortured moan that filled the room as each tank in turn was reduced to a smoldering heap by five perfectly placed shots from Sol.
CHAPTER THREE
The post-balkanization Union varied heavily from its progenitor. Not only was it missing five States, including two of the largest and most populous, but vast swathes of ruined land from the Rockies to the Midwest had been virtually condemned, leaving the nation with only a third of its former usable territory and without major ports and resources. The Capitol was moved to Philadelphia right after the war to establish better defensive measures against sea-based weaponry and as a firm promise to the public to stay more in touch. The more entrenched elements of the American Left and Right had moved out, if able, either to California or Texas. Everyone who stayed was trying to maintain the tenuous new normal.
Federal authorities using eminent domain had seized thirteen blocks around the Old City to establish a new site for government. A new Congress was built in a style more akin to the English Parliament, and a local art museum was refitted to create a new Supreme Court. Only the residents of Elfreth's Alley were spared eviction as the Feds used the real estate to set up committee rooms, federal offices, and housing for Senators, Representatives, and staff. Though the national debt had been de facto forgiven in the conflict, Americans had rediscovered the virtue in frugality, and their new Capitol was less grand than it was grounded in a simple appreciation of the nation's history and progress.
Despite all of the changes, many things in America were very much the same. Powerful families hoarding wealth and social clout still viewed the rabble as soulless golems to be herded and utilized as they saw fit. Their current major puppet, the U.S. Democratic Party, along with its powerful media arm now preached a message of Unity and Solidarity as We the People worked together to rebuild what remained the greatest nation on Earth. This, however, was just a tactic employed by elites to justify their power after the shuffle, engender stability, and convince the masses to join the reconstruction effort with gusto, at the right price. The puppet GOP, after years in power following California's secession, held only a fraction of the seats in Congress but retained control of several state legislatures and most rural counties throughout the land.
The old dialectic had been preserved at great cost. For years after the war, third parties had made strides in convincing the public that the two party system was corrupted beyond repair and that a more European model based on coalition government would be necessary to root out the monied interests that made change so hard to effect. Patience was required by the rich and powerful in discrediting new leaders as they entered the arena. A few of these upstarts were blatantly murdered, one found shot in the back of his head alongside a suicide note claiming something about Harmony. Eventually these parties faded into obscurity as their platforms were gutted piecemeal and grafted onto establishment factions.
Unlike California, which had quickly cut most ties to non-Communist nations, and Texas, which enacted strict laws on trade to mitigate the influence of global conglomerates, the United States remained one of the world's most open trading partners. Still the land of favourite, multinational brands, America was fully integrated into the New World Order, a new body which showed signs of being more successful than any other attempt at global governance.
The Department of Defense still utilized the Pentagon, but many of its Chiefs performed their jobs from a new Headquarters located a few blocks from the House. Despite the openness displayed by America to the world, cynicism of leadership recommended that the new HQ hide modestly in the centuries-old architecture of Old City. The only indication of the complex's function was a strong security presence and the goings and comings of major DOD persons. Rail tunnels and utility lines directly beneath had been rerouted and twenty floors of office, server, and research space were carved into the rock below.
In a small but gorgeously wood-paneled and tastefully furnished office on one of these basement floors, John Carlisle sat down facing five-star General Mac Elliss, who offered a him NuTabak cigar. For almost a minute, the two men sat enjoying the rich aroma, and Carlisle was given an opportunity to inspect the framed images adorning the walls. One was a picture of the General in flight fatigues before an F35C Lightning parked on a Marines carrier deck. Others were portraits of the General with various military personnel and politicians, even one with the President. On the wall behind his desk and to his right were various degrees and citations, to his left a schematic representation of the Sol weapon system. There were more pictures, of family presumably, and directly opposite the General hung a rather beautiful oil painting of some Northeastern trail in autumn. Carlisle was still studying it as the General cleared his throat.
"Like it, Carlisle?" Elliss boomed, smiling.
"It's lovely, sir. One of yours?" he responded with interest, for the work was truly beautiful. A