"Hie Enemy has launched a total of nine projectiles," Hector announced with maddening calm. Green boxes closed around each of die fast-moving red blips marking the incoming projectiles, and alphanumeric^ began unfolding next to them, describing mass, velocity, and elapsed time from launch. Long, curving lines of yellow light traced themselves across the screen for each projectile, converging on the graphic representation of Cloud at latitude 40б 15' 32.4" north, longitude 7.4б west
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William H. Keith, Jr.
Ground zero was Celeste's inner harbor. . . .
"Incoming projectiles have been volley-fired," Hector went on, "widi the first three impacting on my position within 2.76 seconds of one another, indicating a high degree of coordination within the enemy command network."
"How long ... do we have?" Jaime asked.
One of the green squares flashed blue. "Projectile designated 'Alpha' has a velocity of 380 kilometers per second across a flight trajectory of 55,100 kilometers. Total flight time 145 seconds, lime to impact now..." The fast-dwindling figure appeared on the display next to the hurtling blip. "One hundred thirty seconds."
The object's velocity jolted him. "Hector! At that speed, what kind of impact are we looking at?" -
"Exact figures depend on the mass of the projectile, which in turn depends on its precise dimensions, composition, and density. I estimate it to be an ovoid chunk of meteoric nickel-iron approximately 1.4 meter
suggests that Alpha will impact with a kinetic energy of some 1.5162 x 1014 joules, for an explosive release of 30.324 megatons."
"Thirty megatons . . ."
"I remind you that the initial impact will be followed within three seconds by two additional impacts of approximately thirty megatons apiece. Three point five seconds later, there will be three more impacts, followed three point nine seconds later by yet three more. Total impact yield will be on the order two hundred seventy-five megatons."
The Battle Center became deathly quiet then. Jaime could hear the whisper of the compartment's air circulation machinery, the sharp, short catch in the breathing of both Shari and Atita, behind him, the hammer of his own pulse in his ears. What would a
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blast measuring almost three hundred megatons do? Rupture Cloud s crust in an orgasm of volcanoes and geysering magma? Obliterate all life on the planet in a storm of fire and atmospheric dust? Loose earthquakes that would send the entire Western Marches beneath the sea?
In any case, Hector was doomed ... to say nothing of the human slaves in the Camp and dig outside less than a kilometer away.
One hundred twenty seconds. . . .
Jaime became aware of a flickering interplay of equations and alphanumerics in one corner of the display window. Hector appeared to have targeted the nearest of the oncoming projectiles with his main armament. Far off, beyond the massive shell of armor encasing the battle center, he heard the deep rumble of the Bolo's turrets in motion.
"Hector? What the hell are you doing?"
"Attempting to engage the Enemy's barrage. One moment, please. The calculations are extremely complex and are affected by numerous variables of an essentially chaotic nature."
"Target the ..." Jaime stopped, swallowed. He knew that Mark XXXIII Bolos could engage targets well beyond planetary orbit; that, after all, was why they were sometimes referred to as planetary siege units. But to hit a one-and-a-half meter target at fifty thousand kilometers required sharpshooting skills of dazzling perfection.
'Targetlocked," Hector announced calmly. "Firing..."
The Battle Center plunged into darkness, the hull ringing like a titanic bell. . . .
Locking onto the nearest of the oncoming meteors with both radar and optical sensors, I have already slewed my Number One turret to one-zero-fioe relative and elevated the Hellbore to 53б, bringing the weapon
