The big war-theater display screen on the wall at NORAD finally had some data points on it. Putting those red-flashing dots up there was an accomplishment for which General Davis had already praised Holly Lewis. Seeing the display alive again after days of blankness gave him hope of regaining a small measure of control over events, although most of the information displayed on the wall was not reassuring.
“One small piece of good news,” said Lewis. “The President got back to us. Sent a coded message along the grapevine. He’s at Camp David and safe for the time being. Confirms you are first-in-command of all U.S. forces. Congratulations, Matt.”
“Not exactly a cause for celebrating,” Davis muttered, “under the circumstances.”
He frowned again at the map of North America, where flashing red spots indicated small ground units reporting contact with invaders fanning out from Montana into the Dakotas and now Nebraska. There were more dots spreading northward from Louisiana into Arkansas. “Is there any organized force we can use to oppose them if they turn east and cross the Mississippi?”
Lewis shook her head. “There are fair-sized National Guard units in the major cities, but they’re focusing on food distribution. If you mean armored forces, then there’s nothing functional whatsoever east of the Mississippi.”
“Air power?”
“We’ve located an intact National Guard Chinook helicopter in Bismarck, but it’s unarmed. There’s nothing else flyable within a thousand miles.”
“Damnation!” Davis fumed.
Paul MacIlvain came to join them.
“What have you got, Mac? Have you been able to muster any useful forces around here?”
“Not much, Matt. Just trucks and light equipment. We’re going to have to rely on that Armored Cav troop.”
“They’re making good progress,” said Lewis. “But it’s a long haul from Fort Bliss. They’re taking cover right now while the moon is overhead.”
“Hiding out all day is no way to move an armored column,” Davis grumbled. “But the enemy have complete freedom of movement.” He pointed at the red dots on the wall map. “They’re covering ground at incredible speed.”
“Approximately ninety miles an hour,” Lewis concurred.
“At that rate,” Davis grumbled, “they can be anyplace on the continent in a couple days.”
Lewis nodded. “Pretty much, sir.”
“My only consolation,” Davis muttered, “is that they’re not advancing directly toward us from Montana or Louisiana. Either they’re taking the easy pickings on the Great Plains or this is some sort of envelopment maneuver. Maybe they plan to attack us later with a combined force. Either way, we can’t just sit here and wait. The only advantage I see is that no enemy has been reported between here and Montana. I think they’re overconfident, leaving the approach to their base at Sandstone Mountain unopposed. I intend to take advantage of that. But if we don’t take the initiative quickly, we’ll lose this war without a fight.”
“Don’t forget JPL,” said Lewis. “They plan to knock out Phaeon’s light beam by crashing their space probe into it.”
“And I wish them success. But we can’t help them and we can’t count on them either. They might not get the job done. So I want a plan to move our forces north undetected, hiding when the moon is up. Mac, get the logistics going for enough fuel and food for a fast road-march into Montana. When’s the Armored Cav due to arrive?”
“About seven-hundred hours tomorrow, sir.”
“I want that armor rolling again within an hour after it gets here.”
Mac nodded. “I’ll have fuel and supplies waiting.”
“Good,” said Davis. The hint of a smile crossed his face. “If we can get our tanks up there in the next day or two we may have a chance to hit their command structure while they’re still in their nest. I’m itching for a chance to fight back.”