Part 2, continued: Contact!
“What happened after Sergeant Collins said that?”
“Things started getting strange, Sergeant Major.”
“Strange how?”
“Well, first the radios went bad.”
Moreno was the first one to notice.
He was our electronic warfare guy, which meant he spent most of his time looking at things nobody else understood and complaining about them.
He’d been monitoring the electronic activity Collins had picked up near the maintenance building. Suddenly he sat up and started swearing.
“That’s not ours.”
Lieutenant Mercer looked over.
“What isn’t?”
“There’s a network coming up out there. Multiple transmitters. They’re stepping all over our frequencies.”
“Can you identify it?”
“Trying, sir.”
Then everybody’s radios started making noise.
Not static exactly. Voices. Little pieces of conversations. Some sounded like ours. Some were in Mandarin. Others were just noise.
I heard somebody say my name.
Clear as day.
“Pasquale, move left.”
I looked toward the lieutenant.
He hadn’t said anything.
“Who called me?”
Nobody answered.
Then I heard it again.
“Pasquale, move left.”
Same voice. Same words.
Collins opened his eyes.
“Ignore it.”
“Who is it?”
“Nobody.”
That wasn’t a very reassuring answer.
Moreno was working furiously at his equipment.
“They’re spoofing our traffic, Lieutenant. I can’t tell what’s legitimate anymore.”
Mercer looked at Collins.
“Can you clean it up?”
“Working on it.”
Collins closed his eyes again.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then the voices stopped.
All of them.
Moreno looked at his equipment.
“Holy shit.”
“What?” Mercer asked.
“He’s got us back.”
Collins smiled without opening his eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
That’s how it was with him.
The rest of us would be trying to figure out what was happening, and Collins would already be fixing it.
Then the cameras started lying.
At least, that’s what he said.
The Oracle was dead, so we couldn’t use that anymore, but Collins still had the feeds from our other sensors and the drones.
He started calling out things that didn’t make sense.
“Three contacts at the seawall. No, disregard. Those aren’t people.”
A few seconds later:
“Two drones inbound from the south.”
Then:
“Correction. Six.”
Mercer was watching his own display.
“I’m only seeing two.”
“Six, sir.”
“Can you confirm?”
“Working on it.”
Collins’s face tightened.
“Seven.”
That was when I started getting nervous.
Collins didn’t usually change his mind like that.
Seals was lying a few feet away from me, watching the beach through her rifle optic.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Neither do I,” I told her.
Then Collins said, “Down.”
Everybody hit the ground.
Something passed overhead with a sound like an angry hornet.
There was a flash behind us, followed by a sharp explosion.
Dirt and bits of concrete came raining down.
“Contact!” Mercer shouted.
And then the beach came alive.
There were drones everywhere.
Little ones, big ones, some so small you could barely see them. Some were dropping things. Others were diving straight at us.
Our own drones were fighting them. You could hear them colliding overhead, little bursts and cracks in the darkness.
Every few seconds something exploded.
Collins was talking constantly.
“Seals, stay down.”
“Marks, move your position.”
“Mercer, I’ve got two coming in from the north.”
Then, almost conversationally:
“Got them.”
Two explosions followed somewhere over the seawall.
Watkins was on the communications net, trying to get supporting fires.
“Fire mission, fire mission—”
She stopped.
“Lieutenant, they’re interfering with the targeting data.”
“Can you get through?”
“Working it.”
Collins spoke without opening his eyes.
“I’ve got a clean channel for you, Gunny.”
Watkins tried again.
This time somebody answered.
I don’t know what she told them. I was too busy trying to make myself smaller.
A drone came over the wall, low and fast.
Mitchell fired at it.
Missed.
Weems fired.
The drone jerked sideways, clipped the wall, and exploded.
The blast knocked Mitchell flat.
I crawled over to him.
“You hit?”
He shook his head.
“Can’t hear shit.”
“Welcome to the club.”
I pulled him back behind cover.
Somewhere to our right, Marks and Chen were trying to figure out what the Chinese were doing.
Chen was listening to something on his headset.
“Multiple voices. They’re coordinating movement. I think they’re trying to get around our flank.”
“How many?” Mercer asked.
“Can’t tell, sir. Too much interference.”
Collins answered.
“Platoon strength. Maybe thirty. Drones are doing most of the work.”
Mercer looked toward the beach.
“Can you locate them?”
“Some of them.”
Then Collins flinched.
Not much. Just a little jerk of his head, like somebody had slapped him.
Nelson was beside him immediately.
“Mike?”
“I’m fine.”
“Your load’s spiking.”
“I know.”
“You’re pushing too hard.”
“Not now, Doc.”
Nelson looked down at his tablet.
I could see the light from it reflecting off his face.
He didn’t look happy.
Then Collins said something that made me look at him.
“No, Mom. Not yet.”
Nelson went very still.
“What did you say?”
Collins opened his eyes.
For a moment he looked surprised to find us there.
“What?”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Nobody.”
“Mike—”
“Doc, I said I’m fine.”
Then Collins looked toward the seawall.
“Lieutenant, they’re moving.”
A burst of rifle fire came out of the darkness.
Concrete chipped off the wall above our heads.
That settled the argument.
We were taking small-arms fire now.
Not just drones.
People.
Real people.
At least I hoped they were real.
I remember thinking that was a strange thing to wonder.
Then Watkins shouted that she’d gotten a message from the missile team.
They were about five hundred meters behind us, tucked away in another position. Their job was to hit Chinese ships if the invasion force came close enough.
They’d been listening to the engagement.
Apparently they’d gotten a target.
“Lieutenant, missile section reports a valid track. They’re preparing to fire.”
Mercer looked at Collins.
“Can you confirm?”
Collins closed his eyes.
For a moment he didn’t answer.
Then he said, “Yes.”
“Positive?”
“Positive, sir.”
Watkins passed the authorization.
A few seconds later there was a tremendous roar behind us.
I turned in time to see a bright streak climbing into the darkness.
The missile.
For one beautiful second, I forgot about everything else.
We’d gotten one off.
Somebody was going to have a very bad morning.
Then Collins screamed.
It wasn’t a warning.
It wasn’t an order.
It was the kind of scream you make when something hurts so badly you can’t help yourself.
Nelson grabbed him.
“Mike! Mike, look at me!”
Collins was shaking.
His eyes were open, but he wasn’t looking at any of us.
“Too many,” he whispered.
Nelson was tapping frantically at his tablet.
“Lieutenant, I need to disconnect him.”
Mercer looked over.
“What?”
“He’s overloading. I need to break the link.”
Collins grabbed Nelson’s wrist.
“No.”
“Mike, let go.”
“No, Doc. Don’t.”
His voice sounded different.
Not frightened exactly.
Desperate.
“They’re going to see us.”
Then something struck the missile team’s position.
There was a flash behind the ridge, followed by a heavy explosion.
A second explosion came almost immediately afterward.
The ground shook beneath us.
Watkins called the missile section.
No answer.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Mercer looked toward the ridge.
“Status?”
Watkins shook her head.
“Lost contact, sir.”
Collins was still holding Nelson’s wrist.
His face was wet with sweat.
“They found the launch.”
Nelson looked at him.
“Mike, I have to—”
“If you disconnect me, they’ll find everybody.”
I remember the way he said it.
Not like a threat.
Like he was explaining something obvious.
Something the rest of us were too stupid to understand.
Nelson looked at Mercer.
Mercer looked toward the ridge, where the missile team had been.
Then he looked back at Collins.
“Can you still fight, Sergeant?”
Collins nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Nelson started to say something.
Mercer held up his hand.
“Doc, give him another minute.”
And that’s what we did.
We gave him another minute.
The Sergeant Major interrupted me.
“Pasquale, did you know Sergeant Collins was experiencing a medical emergency?”
“Not then, Sergeant Major.”
“You heard him scream.”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“You heard Petty Officer Nelson request permission to disconnect him.”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“And you didn’t think something was wrong?”
I looked at him.
“Sergeant Major, everything was wrong.”
He didn’t say anything.
“We were getting shot at. Drones were exploding over our heads. The radios were full of people who weren’t there. We’d just watched the missile team get blown to hell.”
I stopped.
“Collins was the only thing keeping us alive.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because every time he stopped talking, somebody got hurt.”
The Sergeant Major looked down at his notes.
“And what happened during that additional minute?”
I took a breath.
“That’s when they came over the wall.”
