avoid what her instincts couldn't detect. The scenery around her passed in a blur as her sight focused into tunnel vision and she became oblivious to everything except the chase and her desperate desire to find Sunny.
God, whoever or whatever you are in this place, please let her be safe. I can't live without her; I can't stand to lose her. Please, I beg of you, let me find her alive.
From "The Denver Walker"
Seven F-15E Strike Eagles flew in a diamond wedge formation over eastern Colorado. They had departed Buckley Airforce Base in Aurora where they were temporarily stationed. They were headed due east towards the Kansas border, and their intended target. Each was armed with eight AIM-120 AMRAAM medium range air-to-air missiles, modified to deliver fragmentation warheads, and an AIM-54 Phoenix long range air-to-air missile, as well as their standard 20 mm M61A1 gatling guns.
Approximately fifteen minutes behind them followed a single A-6E Intruder attack aircraft. It carried a single BGM-109 Tomahawk Land Attack Missile under its fuselage with a special warhead. The pilot was Lt. Col. Eile Chica. Her squadron, which included the Eagles, had been transferred from California a week before just for that mission. Their target was the Walker, which was on a direct course for Denver, and if not stopped would arrive in twelve hours. Where it went, nothing was left in its wake.
Eile's mind wandered as she zoned out the monotonous task of straight, level flight. She recalled the briefing she and her people had been given when they first arrived. Approximately nine months ago, a meteorite crashed into the ocean a couple of miles off the eastern seaboard of the United States. Though it had been a large one and had caused some flooding along the Atlantic coast, nothing more was thought about it.
Six months later, the Walker came ashore off New York City. Though it gleamed as if made of metal or plastic, it had a smooth, organic shape, with no obvious seams or joints. It consisted of a bulbous, misshapen body, like a russet potato, with numerous feathered and branched appendages. It stood and walked on three spindly legs. The surface of the body was featureless except for what looked like a single, blood-red eye covering about one-sixth the surface area. Except that instead of being used for seeing, it fired a disintegrator beam that could reduce anything to plasma in an instant. It destroyed everything in its path, leaving nothing but bare rock and a layer of dust.
The devastation caught everyone by surprise. All attempts to communicate with it went unanswered, though whether it simply ignored them or was unable to understand them no one could say. It travelled in a straight line, cutting a swath through the heart of the city twenty miles wide. The military responded immediately, but few weapons could get past its formidable defenses. Of those that did, most were destroyed by the disintegrator beam. The rest either couldn't penetrate the skin or only damaged the appendages, which grew back in a very short time. One aircraft that made a kamikaze run did succeed in damaging the body, but it too quickly regenerated.
From New York it continued cross-country, devastating Pittsburgh, Columbus, Indianapolis, St. Louis, and everything in between. Outside of Kansas City, the President finally authorized the use of nuclear weapons. He had been reluctant, for fear of civilian casualties, but he finally decided he had no choice; nothing else seemed to work. A cruise missile carrying a one megaton warhead detonated a mile above the Walker, well out of reach of its defenses. The shockwave smashed it into the ground, and the heat bloom seared and melted it. It seemed to be finished, and a research team was put together to study what was left. It took them a day to arrive, and they found the Walker not only intact, but nearly operational. It annihilated the team and went on to destroy Kansas City before continuing on towards Denver. The town of Hays had been wiped out just the day before.
The radio crackled. "Flight leader, Eagle flight, we have visual contact with target. ETA now fifteen minutes."
"Eagle flight, flight leader, we copy," Eile replied. She glanced at her navigator-bombardier. Maj. Sonne Hiver nodded back. "Confirm fifteen minute ETA. You are cleared to arm. I repeat, you are cleared to arm."
"Wilco, flight leader. Eagle flight out."
"Almost there," Eile remarked.
Maj. Hiver, whose callsign was Sunny, nodded again. "Ten beers says we won't get the bastard until after the first run."
Eile grinned, though Sunny couldn't see it as it was hidden by her flight mask. "Yer on, sucker."
Sunny giggled. Eile reflected, not for the first time, how odd she was. Surprisingly silly and girly for a serving Air Force officer, she was nonetheless the best navigator in the service. She had been transferred to Eile's squadron just a year before, and she proved her worth on her first mission. Eile assigned her to her own Intruder because she wanted the best by her side. She had an almost intuitive grasp of navigation, and was able to calculate even complex targeting equations in her head. Since she joined the team, the squadron's mission success rate had jumped a hundred and fifty percent.
Now she needed her even more than ever. The consensus among the think tank eggheads was that the Walker was a berserker, a machine designed to kill and destroy. They speculated that it had been developed either as a doomsday weapon or as a way to eliminate possible interstellar threats and potential competition. They couldn't say whether its appearance had been a random landing or a targeted strike, but they estimated that just one Walker could clear the continents of all life in a year.
Fortunately, there was hope. A salvage mission by the Navy managed to recover material from the ocean floor that they believed came from the Walker after it crash-landed. That was confirmed by comparing it to material recovered from the nuclear detonation site. Analysis of the material revealed that its structure was built and maintained by nanotech robots no bigger than bacteria, which explained how it was able to repair itself even after being blasted by a nuclear bomb. Somehow, a group of scientists managed to reprogram a collection of nanobots to demolish the Walker's substance rather than rebuild it. Those had been packed into a warhead installed in the Tomahawk they carried. It was hoped that when the missile struck the Walker the nanobots would be released on impact and would destroy it. It was a gamble; no one knew if it would work, or how long it would take, though the principle had been proven using the recovered material. But gamble or not, it was their best hope. If it failed, their only remaining option was to try to make a direct hit with a ten megaton bomb, but there were those who didn't believe it would work.
The radio broke into Eile's thoughts. "Flight leader, Eagle flight, ETA five minutes."
"Eagle flight, flight leader, roger, cleared to engage, repeat, cleared to engage."
"Wilco, flight leader. Out."
"They're getting into position," Sunny reported.
Eile couldn't see it, they were still too far away, but she imagined the Eagles breaking formation to reassemble into a vertical rosette. Six planes would form a ring around the seventh, creating a large face from which to fire a massed salvo. It was necessary to break through the Walker's defenses.
It had only a two-layer barrier, but it was formidable. The first layer consisted of a field of aerial mines called Poppers. About the size of a softball, they floated in a torus around the Walker. Though only one Popper occupied a cubic meter, the field was made up of multiple staggered layers that closed all gaps. They exploded on contact, but the thickness of the field ensured that even a missile was likely to hit at least one while trying to penetrate, and no aircraft had ever made it through unscathed. Despite their size, they packed a wallop; just one could destroy a fighter, and three or four could bring down a bomber.
Experience had shown that only when enough Poppers had been destroyed could aircraft get through the field; the magic number was eighty-five percent. Military analysts had also discovered that it wasn't necessary to attack the whole field. Once a Popper was placed, it stayed in its place until destroyed. Hence, if a section of the field could be reduced to 15% intact or less, aircraft could make it through. The vertical rosette was designed to accomplish this. W
hen they got close enough, they would fire their fragmentary AMRAAMs, and with any luck they would blow a hole through the field.
After that came the second layer, a ring of satellites each the size of a weather balloon. They were called the String of Pearls because each satellite was a featureless, smooth, pearly white ball. If anything got past the Poppers, the Pearls would emit an electromagnetic pulse that would fry all semi-conductor circuits in range, effectively disabling any electrical and computer system. The Eagles were specifically hardened against the EMP, as was her Intruder. Hopefully they would survive long enough to take out the nearest Pearls with their Phoenixes. That would clear the way for the Intruder to make its bombing run against the Walker.
But regardless of the success of the mission, the Eagles were not expected to survive. Eile had made participation in the mission strictly voluntary, but she had been made proud when all her pilots volunteered. Those that were flying with her now were chosen by lots, except their leader.
"Flight leader, Eagle flight, in position, standing by. Three minutes to contact."
"Eagle flight, flight leader, roger."
"Flight