Read Online Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone by T. R. Harris - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: T. R. Harris
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anger. “Was it something I said or asked?”
“No, it’s nothing like that—”
Just then an alarm began to sound throughout the Center. Xander had never heard this particular alarm before. It was different from the normal drills that were run periodically.
“What is going on, Jamie?” Xander didn’t care if Collins heard or not.
Simms looked at both their faces, seeing the matching concern. “This will be hard to keep secret as it is, so what the hell. The base is under attack, Ms. Collins, so it’s important that you go with the sergeant until the crisis is over. Xander, you’re back on duty.”
“Who’s doing the attacking?” Tiffany asked.
“The bad guys,” Simms responded. “Now please no more questions. Just go with the sergeant so Xander and I can get to work.”
Tiffany looked at Xander. “ Xander , your name is Xander?”
“Talk to my mother about that. Now get going, please.”
Chapter 6
Once the reporter was out of the room, Xander turned to Simms. “Are we really under attack?”
“That’s a big-ass affirmative. A whole fleet of quads and octs have breached the outer perimeter east of the Center and are headed this way. According to the security images, they’re Lightning Z4’s and 8’s, equipped with full strike packages.”
“How did they get past the countermeasures?”
“That I don’t know, not yet.” The pair left the conference room and headed north toward the tactical section. They were in the Admin building, which housed the executive offices and command facilities for the RDC, and all the corridors were full of determined men and woman rushing about with concern on their faces.
Xander and Simms entered the main tactical command room for the Center, a huge chamber resembling a college lecture hall, with rows of observation stations set high to the back of the room and a series of flight control stations on the main floor below. In reality, very few operations were run out of the room. Instead, it was used mainly to monitor the activities of the ninety individual combat stations located in the Operations building.
Yet today most of the stations were occupied, with over twenty pilots and operators just now lighting up their consoles. Xander took a seat at a vacant pilot station. To his left and right were a wingman and a scanner-operator. Simms stood behind him watching the screens as they came to life.
“How many bunkers have activated?” Xander asked. Las Vegas had more than its fair share of rapid-response bunkers, not only from its proximity to the Center, but also because of the massive number of tourists who frequented the city each year, making it an ideal target for terrorists.
When no one answered, Xander looked to the scanner, a young Hispanic woman named Lydia Garcia. She was frowning deeply at the information on her screen.
“Report, Lydia,” Xander ordered.
“I’m sorry Mr. Moore, but I can’t detect a single activation.”
Xander’s mouth fell open, while Colonel Simms raced to a phone at one of the observation stations behind the control consoles. He began to yell into the receiver.
“That’s impossible,” Xander said to Garcia. “Maybe it’s a communications problem—”
“That’s not it,” Simms said, still cradling the phone on his shoulder. “All of the Las Vegas and Henderson bunkers have been hit with drone strikes, apparently simultaneously with an attack on Nellis, too. We’ve been compromised, and to the highest degree.”
The noise level in the room rose significantly, as officers, pilots, and operators all began to ask questions and demand answers.
“If the stations are gone, then how do we defend the Center?” Garcia asked. Her voice trembled and her eyes were moist.
This was the problem with remote warfare, Xander thought, the lack of connection to the battlefield. When the fight came to your own backyard, the fear and anxiety associated with real combat suddenly manifests itself. Although Lydia
“No, it’s nothing like that—”
Just then an alarm began to sound throughout the Center. Xander had never heard this particular alarm before. It was different from the normal drills that were run periodically.
“What is going on, Jamie?” Xander didn’t care if Collins heard or not.
Simms looked at both their faces, seeing the matching concern. “This will be hard to keep secret as it is, so what the hell. The base is under attack, Ms. Collins, so it’s important that you go with the sergeant until the crisis is over. Xander, you’re back on duty.”
“Who’s doing the attacking?” Tiffany asked.
“The bad guys,” Simms responded. “Now please no more questions. Just go with the sergeant so Xander and I can get to work.”
Tiffany looked at Xander. “ Xander , your name is Xander?”
“Talk to my mother about that. Now get going, please.”
Chapter 6
Once the reporter was out of the room, Xander turned to Simms. “Are we really under attack?”
“That’s a big-ass affirmative. A whole fleet of quads and octs have breached the outer perimeter east of the Center and are headed this way. According to the security images, they’re Lightning Z4’s and 8’s, equipped with full strike packages.”
“How did they get past the countermeasures?”
“That I don’t know, not yet.” The pair left the conference room and headed north toward the tactical section. They were in the Admin building, which housed the executive offices and command facilities for the RDC, and all the corridors were full of determined men and woman rushing about with concern on their faces.
Xander and Simms entered the main tactical command room for the Center, a huge chamber resembling a college lecture hall, with rows of observation stations set high to the back of the room and a series of flight control stations on the main floor below. In reality, very few operations were run out of the room. Instead, it was used mainly to monitor the activities of the ninety individual combat stations located in the Operations building.
Yet today most of the stations were occupied, with over twenty pilots and operators just now lighting up their consoles. Xander took a seat at a vacant pilot station. To his left and right were a wingman and a scanner-operator. Simms stood behind him watching the screens as they came to life.
“How many bunkers have activated?” Xander asked. Las Vegas had more than its fair share of rapid-response bunkers, not only from its proximity to the Center, but also because of the massive number of tourists who frequented the city each year, making it an ideal target for terrorists.
When no one answered, Xander looked to the scanner, a young Hispanic woman named Lydia Garcia. She was frowning deeply at the information on her screen.
“Report, Lydia,” Xander ordered.
“I’m sorry Mr. Moore, but I can’t detect a single activation.”
Xander’s mouth fell open, while Colonel Simms raced to a phone at one of the observation stations behind the control consoles. He began to yell into the receiver.
“That’s impossible,” Xander said to Garcia. “Maybe it’s a communications problem—”
“That’s not it,” Simms said, still cradling the phone on his shoulder. “All of the Las Vegas and Henderson bunkers have been hit with drone strikes, apparently simultaneously with an attack on Nellis, too. We’ve been compromised, and to the highest degree.”
The noise level in the room rose significantly, as officers, pilots, and operators all began to ask questions and demand answers.
“If the stations are gone, then how do we defend the Center?” Garcia asked. Her voice trembled and her eyes were moist.
This was the problem with remote warfare, Xander thought, the lack of connection to the battlefield. When the fight came to your own backyard, the fear and anxiety associated with real combat suddenly manifests itself. Although Lydia
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