Freedom TM

here and here. Keep a garrison at the south airfield.”
    “What are the rules of engagement, General?”
    “Fire on anything that approaches our lines by land or air.”
    “Anything?”
    “Let me make this clear: if a horse and buggy filled with orphans and nuns approaches a gate waving a white flag—open fire at four hundred yards and keep firing until those bitches are down. Sobol was devious enough to conceive of the Daemon and devious enough to build it. If his agents get into this compound, they will sabotage our systems and sow confusion in our ranks. That must not be allowed to happen.”
    “Do we pursue retreating forces?”
    “Don’t get drawn out from our perimeter. Keep your forces concentrated around what matters: the inner perimeter, the airfields, and the power station. Call in an air or artillery strike if you’ve got them on the run.”
    “What about the rail spur?”
    “We’ll blow the tracks at Snake Bayou if outside rail traffic appears.” He scanned the faces of the gathered officers. A tough bunch of career warriors. Veterans of many secret wars. “You will not be forgiven for allowing the enemy to enter our perimeter. The mission is simple: hold your positions until the tech folks give the all-clear. At that point resistance should stop.” He looked at them all. “Any more questions?”
    A one-star frowned at the board. “Who is it we’re expecting?”
    “Intelligence reports indicate elements of Daemon militia are en route. They’re going to be lightly armed civilianirregulars—susceptible to electronic countermeasures and disbursement by heavy weapons. However, we all know what happened to Operation Prairie Fire. So we can’t assume anything. The difference this time around is we’re on our home turf.”
    Another officer gestured to the map. “What about unmanned vehicles?”
    “High likelihood.”
    “What about unmanned car bombs?”
    “They’ll be easy targets out here in the prairie—particularly for the Bradleys guarding these interchanges, here and here. Instruct the crews to engage with their cannons. I don’t want TOW missiles wasted on Toyotas.”
    He paused for any further questions. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”
    The officers scattered to the exits. Connelly called to the nearby analysts. “Have you traced the fault in the seismic sensors yet?”
    The analysts conferred briefly. One of them looked up. “We’ve lost contact with our aerial drones, General.”
    “Where?”
    “Northeast sector, near gate two.”
    “The north road.” He examined the map. “Have the remaining drones increase their altitude, and scramble a Kiowa chopper to the northern sector. I want aerial imagery ASAP.”
    “Roger. ETA roughly twelve minutes on the chopper.”
    “Twelve minutes?”
    “It’s thirty miles, General.”
    “Damnit.” He turned to Johnston. “But we don’t need to out-smart the Daemon. We just need to keep it busy long enough for the techs to cut its claws off.” He pointed to the analysts. “Get me some intelligence about what’s on my perimeter. Send out scout teams if necessary—but get it. In the meantime, let’s keep in close radio contact with the perimeter gate teams.”
    Johnston sat in a leather chair at the edge of the video table. The ranch map spread out before him, showing the placement of forces. “How long until we execute Operation Exorcist, General?”
    “Not long now, Mr. Johnston. Not long.”
    ______________
    Korr Military Solutions captain Greg Hollings stood next to his Humvee inside the north gate of Emperor Ranch. Arrayed around him in foxholes on either side of the road his squad lay in ambush, watching the large, wrought-iron estate gates, chained shut fifty yards away. Three concrete highway dividers had been dropped in front of them—blocking the way. A fifteen-foot-high stone perimeter wall on either side of the gate stretched into the darkness in both directions, but Hollings knew it was largely cosmetic and only extended a few hundred yards before yielding to barbed-wire fencing and seismic sensors. Sensors that were all in alarm.
    What was to prevent attackers from outflanking them way down the perimeter—coming in from behind and reconnecting with the ranch road miles south? HQ lost a surveillance drone seven or eight miles north of here. Those were his eyes in the sky. It didn’t bode well.
    “We’re meat-on-a-stick out here, Chief.”
    “Keep it together, Priestly.” Hollings scanned the