The Kraal SubCommander looked half in fascination, half in terror at the spectacle taking place on the main subspace screen before him. The Worm Hole at Point Six had imploded an hour ago, the light, radiation and shock wave of the force of the negative blast reaching them only seconds ago. It had given them no warning, at least none that their instruments could detect.
        Several thoughts flashed through his large brain at the same time, what had gone wrong and how was he going to explain the consequences to his Fleet Commander, being the most urgent and preoccupying. With the Hole gone they would be forced to detour considerably towards Point Two-Two, the nearest charted secondary Hole. Even so, his fleet would have a tough time moving through a Class Three Hole with all the radiation emitted from the engines of the huge Nova Class Destroyer, escort ships and half dozen transports. They would have to stretch the formation over a couple million parx to allow radiation contamination of the Hole to subside before each ship took the jump.
        In reality, the effects of Radiation Degradation had just been recently discovered when the fleet’s other Nova ship had raced into a Hole under full power, and raced out the other side in little fragments. In effect, Worm Holes had only been discovered a dozen years ago and the physics and consequences of subspace travel were still being determined.
        The SubCommander originated from a planet that was dying. Their main problem resided in a desperate need for certain minerals and ore, precious materials to maintain an immensely complex industry. Expeditions had been launched to investigate their own and neighboring systems but had proven unsuccessful. A decade ago, an experimental vessel had ventured into the first Hole. At first, scientists had little confidence in its possibilities, but the valiant crew had indeed returned with encouraging news. They had discovered two planets rich in what they needed. One was found devoid of intelligent life and was immediately colonized, mining installations erected and functioning in record time. The other had been found inhabited by an aggressive race. But their needs were imperative.
        So imperative in fact that Hole travel, though hardly understood was used ever more frequently. Catastrophes occurred from time to time but much was learned.
        His fleet had been moving towards the Terran Planet, ready to take by force what they required, when their main route had evaporate. A secondary Hole, discovered a few years ago surprisingly gave them passage to the same place. Theoreticians argued that the coincidence wasn’t that surprising. Space, they ventured, was divided into quadrants with interconnecting Holes. All the Holes in one quadrant would connect with a limited, probably small, amount of neighboring quadrants. Thus, it was entirely plausible that several other Holes would be found towards the same destination.
        But the SubCommander had an additional problem. The mining colonies of Planet Paars were in unrest, workers composed mainly of slaves and criminals rebelling against the barbaric life conditions in the mining complex . That would force him to send at least two transports and several escort ships to quell the uprising. To top it all, they would have to re-accelerate again to half-light speed, a time consuming and energy costly process.

        Earth

        The Sectoid Commander’s sub docked at the underwater Data Station and hooked the link to the subspace receiver. A moment passed and he updated his screen with the new orders. High Command wanted mining operations begun immediately and in earnest. The Fleet would be arriving shortly but they were to wait no more. Thankfully, the location of the first mining complex was relatively out of the way.

        Area 51 - Nevada. November 1st.

        "When ever you’re ready, Susan." Catherine held the BPE reverently before her.
        "Oh, but not on this computer," said the older of the two pointing at the thirty year old machine resting on the table in front of them. "A month ago the German government lent us a new one. The older model works on silicon and transistors - albeit cramming close to a billion on each chip. No, our more recent addition uses quantum technology. Forget about optical lithography. Thing of the past, dear."
        "Ah," muttered Catherine.
        "Here. Follow me," said Susan turning and walking into an adjoining room. The rest of the group trailed behind, accompanied by a couple of Area 51 scientists.
        The smaller room contained a single alien device attached to cables and surrounded by numerous and large banks of parallel processing supercomputers. The device was off.
        "The idea behind all this is simple. An exercise," she proposed. "Suppose that an enemy, someone at war with us, managed to break into the main computer system at, say, the Pentagon. Better yet, inside the computer system of an aircraft carrier dangerously threatening their country. Further imagine, that the enemy could disable the system. Even more dangerous, use the system to fool the human mind, creating ghost contacts or shooting down the ship’s own planes." "I see," said Catherine. "We rely heavily on computers in our war machinery, a dependency that increases with time. Maybe, the aliens are even more dependent, centralizing their systems somehow."
        "It might be a good idea if you were a couple light years from home," said Sachs. "Information, coordination. Important, even vital, concepts in modern warfare."
        Catherine nodded. "OK. With you all the way. Let’s see what we can do about it then."
        The BPE was a black metal box with a powerful emitting antenna. An RS232 connection hooked it to a laptop computer that controlled the frequencies. A further cable fed juice from a lightweight portable battery. Catherine flipped the battery’s power to ‘on’ and fired up the laptop. Once the operating system had loaded she double-clicked on an icon and displayed the main menu.
        "All right. Cross your fingers." Catherine selected an option from the menu and pressed ENTER. The alien screen lit up.
        "Well, I’ll be..." exclaimed Susan. "Katie, you’ve got yourself one interesting piece of equipment there."
        "Now, let me call up the main system display." She selected a second menu option. The screen blipped, a three dimensional portrait of an alien vessel appearing covered in red dots, furious icons scrolling down the screen. The screen began to emit a series a rapid aural warnings.
        "Uh-oh," said Catherine.
        "No, no. That’s right. The computer can’t access the systems. I mean, it’s not actually connected to the drives or weapons. It’s doing a configuration check or something and finding that all its systems are missing." Excitement flowed through the room like something tangible.
        "You now what we really need?" asked Richards. "We need to know what systems this device controls. I mean, we can access those the alien did, but what about communications or flight controls. We need to take the code apart."
        "Easily said." Susan threw her hands up. "Figuring out their programming system will take us ages. Hell, just trying to comprehend their alphabetical codes might be a lengthy process."
        "That’s right," said Richards. His tone of voice made Catherine look up sharply. She caught the twinkle in his eye. "We need a lot of computing power, both hardware and brainware. I know of a lab that has tens of thousands of programmers, hackers and billions of megaflops of computing power."
        "You do?" asked Susan.
        "Internet," said Richards.
        "What? Are you nuts?" burst one of the suits. "You want to dump a top secret government project on a public net?"
        "Secret?" said Catherine. "You’ve got to be kidding. You should surf around the net a little. The word is out. Web sites all over the place have it on their home pages. Dedicated newsgroups, chat channels. Haven’t you seen the ‘Save the Planet’ campaign? Fella, I got news for you. This went public a long time ago."

        X-COM Base - Cheyenne.

        General Sachs burst into the Control Room and strode quickly towards his command post. One of the base’s Ospreys had been dispatched to collect him from Area 51 in record time. The rest of the group had stayed behind.
        Colonel Hammet, a phone glued to his ear, and Captain Keller stood under the central screen. Sachs detoured and converged on them.
        "What’ve we got?" he asked. Hammet raised his hand silently.
        "Yessir, a minute, sir. General Sachs has just arrived." He handed the phone to his superior officer. "CINCNORAD on the line." Sachs snatched the receiver.
        "Jim. What’s the story?" Sachs listened intently for a few minutes and then hung up. Hammet and Keller looked inquiringly. The general motioned then to follow him to the command post.
        "So far NORAD is pretty much in the dark. Seems like the bugs have hit a couple of military installations, some Navy and an area south of Lima. I suspect the Peruvians are scrambling to control the situation as fast as they can. Air Force is sending an SR-71 for recon. Satellite data is unavailable, at least until tomorrow. We’ve been ordered to stand-by."
        "Bugs attacking a country?" said Hammet.
        "Yeah. It would seem that the stakes have just risen."

        Captain Ernesto Mejorada pulled on the yoke of his Mirage 2000P, sending the aircraft into the evening sky. Behind him, the rest of his four plane group belonging to 3rd Fighter Squadron of Peru’s Air Force followed him into the air. He punched the throttle to his maximum non-afterburn low altitude speed of 600 knots and settled on a southerly heading for the 270 mile flight towards Nazca.
        A second group of planes blasted off after them, turning east towards a second destination.
        Rage boiled inside him, building as he neared the target area. Originally from Ica, just over 80 milers north of Nazca, he knew the area well, having visited the famous Nazca Lines on several occasions. He had friends and family in the area.
        At the altitude he was pushing his Mirage, the plane buffeted violently from the strong mid-day air currents. But his orders were to remain under radar coverage.
        Twenty minutes later, Captain Mejorada flicked his Thomson multi-mode radar on, engaged his afterburners and pulled viciously on the yoke, turning his nose into a steep climb. At one thousand feet, the group of four aircraft pulled inverted and acquired several alien vessels.
        Then they died.

        "OK, let’s hear the update," ordered Sachs. A NORAD captain had spent the past hour hooked to his terminal and phone, pulling stats and information which could be vital for them.
        "From what we know," said the captain, "Peru has a total Armed Forces service of just under one hundred and twenty five thousand enlisted men, plus close to two hundred thousand reserves."
        Cheyenne Mountain Conference Room was occupied by General Sachs, General Roste (CINCNORAD), and a host of other senior officers.
        "Information is very confused at the moment and not much is getting through to us. What we do know is that the Navy has lost at least one of its two Cruisers, Almirante Grau we believe, its sole Destroyer and possible some other coastal combatants."
        "What’s that leave them with?" interrupted Roste.
        "Not much. A single helicopter Cruiser, uh," the captain flipped a page. "Aguirre, bought from the Netherlands in 1976. Four Lupo class Frigates and six Type 209 subs. We’re unsure how many of their missile craft they have lost. Those are Velarde PFMs carrying 4 Exocets SSMs a piece. Plus some patrol, mine countermeasures and phibs."
        "What about the Air Force?" asked Sachs.
        "Even more sketchy, sir. Fighter capable squadrons number eight. Two squadrons with 15 Camberras, 3 squadrons with 28 Su-22s, a single 10 plane Mirage 2000P squadron and two more Mirage 5P squadrons with nine aircraft. Total count is sixty-two fighter aircraft. They only other noteworthy squadron is composed of twenty three Mi 24/25 attack helicopters."
        "All intact?"
        "No, sir. Lima AFB was bombarded before the attack. Damage as of yet un-assessed."
        "Bombarded? With what?"
        "Unsure, sir. It’s possible they could be using a torpedo of sorts, akin to those used at Pearl Harbor."
        "Correct," cut in Sachs. "Dr. Richards at X-COM has a theory on anti-matter torpedoes. Bottom line is that they’re very fast and very destructive." Roste assented and ordered the colonel on.
        "Army consists of eighty thousand enlisted, divided into six military regions. Three armed divisions, an armored group, a cavalry division, eight infantry divisions, a jungle division, five artillery groups, an engineering battalion and three helicopter squadrons. ELINT is picking up a lot of radio traffic from the various HQs. It looks like a light infantry battalion is already heading south from Lima towards the area of conflict."
        A loud rap came from the door and aide rushed in, handing CINCNORAD a piece of paper. The general read it and shook his head. He took a deep breath and read.
        "Pentagon informs us that Peru has just lost a Frigate and a full Mirage squadron." Close to hundred men had lost their lives. "The President has ordered Nimitz to move towards the region at flank speed."
        "This doesn’t look like one of their classic hit and run ops," commented a NORAD Lieutenant Colonel. "Is Peru requesting assistance?"
        "Not so far," responded the first colonel. "We’re waiting for word from president Fujimori."
        "What about X-COM? Where do we come in?" asked Hammet.
        "You get to sit tight," said Roste. "Next step is, we wait."

        Gandalf finished clearing the table and told his mother that he was going upstairs. Outside, snow fell heavily in upstate New York, fat, lazy snowflakes painting the ground white.
        "Sure Mike, but remember you father ask you to shovel the drive."
        "Yes, Mom," he said as he climbed to the upper floor. His room was decently tidy, or as tidy as possible for a sixteen year old with a million floppy discs and CDs lying around. His bed was roughly made, definitely not to his mother’s standards. He flicked the power on his computer and waited while it booted, loading his CD player with the latest Oasis album. A couple of minutes later, he fired his ISDN Internet connection and double-clicked on the mIRC icon. The program connected to his default server and he was ready to cruise the world of chat.

        GANDALF : Hi to all.
        KEYS : what’s up, man. Been waiting for you.
        JANUS : Hey Gandalf.
        GANDALF : anybody seen Goldilocks around??
        FBI : yeah, left ten minutes ago. Be back later.
        LUPO : Hello everybody.
        KEYS : Hi Lupo.
        SINATRA : anybody wanna comment on the bug attack at Peru???
        JANUS : No shit. Bugs attacked Peru??
        FBI : where the fuck is Peru??
        GANDALF : Pacific - South America. Blew Geography lesson again, fbi?
        KEYS : I got CNN on right now. Heavy shit.
        SINATRA : yeah, seems like the peruans are taking a beating.
        GANDALF : Peruvians, my friend.
        SINATRA : corrected.
        LUPO : will US help?
        KEYS : where you from, lupo?
        LUPO : Paraguay. Lived in Saint Louis three years.
        SINATRA : I heard we’re sending Nimitz.
        GANDALF : yeah, and you know X-COM will be right along :-)
        JANUS : X-COM??
        SINATRA : man, where you been these months. Moon?
        LUPO : hey, sinatra, not everyone has heard of X-COM. Pretty secret.
        GANDALF : X-COM is like the MiBs with an attitude.
        KEYS : Han Solo meets Worf meets Terminator. With a headache.
        SILVERSURFER : MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT ! ! ! ! ! ! !
        SINATRA : we’re listening.
        GANDALF : all ears.
        SILVERSURFER : just been at the alt.aliens newsgroup. Someone uploaded a zipped 100 meg file. Claims contains alien computer OS ! ! !
        KEYS : Yeah sure, silver :-)
        GANDALF : lol
        MANIAC : guys, he is telling the truth. The file is there. Also broken up at alt.aliens.files
        JANUS : so it’s a prank. Humungous virus. Erases your hard drive and your house :-)
        MANIAC : the sender has a dot mil on the mail address. I checked out Nellis air force base web site. There’s a splash screen says: ‘the file is real’. That’s all.
        GANDALF : someone hacked the site.
        MANIAC : a military site? you nuts, man.
        FBI : 100 megs?? take fucking forever to dl.
        GANDALF : tell you about it later. I’m already bringing it down!
        MANIAC : me too. Server is shit slow.
        GOLDILOCKS : sup dudes. You guys grabbing the bug file? Warez sites all over are going crazy.
        GANDALF : Hey Goldi. What’s that on warez sites?
        GOLDILOCKS : don’t know man but sites all over are going haywire. Lotta updates.
        KEYS : GUYS, GUYS. Just got off IPhone from Australia. Friend there works in Phone Company. Says traffic is all time high, talking off the scale here. Their backbone went down an hour ago.
        SILVERSURFER : ok. File is broken into 10 - 10Mb files. If news server crashes, numbers one and two are on World of Warez. I’m dl three now.
        MANIAC : here’s what the attached txt file says : ‘This file contains an extraterrestrial operating system. File will not run over standard operating systems, but will load on compiler and can be debugged. Can you crack the code?’
        GANDALF : ok, later. Got to go. Tomorrow same time, same place.
        JANUS : me too. See you tomorrow.
        KEYS : outta here. Free some bandwidth for file dl.

        November 1st. Nazca - Peru

        The driver hardly slowed down as he raced by the last of the police roadblocks. the engine of the UR- 416M Armored Personnel Carrier whined loudly, straining to maintain its top speed of 80 kph. The sun was setting slowly on the horizon, throwing long shadows to their left.
         The vehicle commander eyed the flashing sirens and then glanced over at the driver. Now, they were alone. The police was detaining traffic down the Nazca Highway as far as thirty kilometers from the alien camp, cars being turned back with a polite but tense explanation. News of the attack had surprised the Peruvians over dinner, anchormen and women rigidly announcing the attack, strain showing on their faces. But the worst news was yet to come. A military installation close to Lima, the nation’s capital, had been pounded from the air. A nation wide alert was being enforced.
        The vehicle commander consulted his map. The road ahead of them dipped into a shallow valley and then disappeared over a rise. In front of them, the Nazca town, situated in the heart of a green valley, was still hidden from view.
        "Be careful," he cautioned the driver. "Nazca is behind that hill."
        Two hundred kilometers to the north, the Army was marshaling one its rapid deployment brigades. Consisting mainly of infantry battalion with some 155mm towed artillery it gave little consolation to Sergeant Castero. The aliens were very close and Army was a million miles away as far as he was concerned.
        The sergeant ordered the driver to abandon the road and head for open country. The rolling countryside, bright green from the rains, might offer some cover if they had to hastily leave the APC. They bumped wildly over a few hundred yards and then braked to a stop. The vehicle commander ordered his four troops sitting in the back to get out and assemble in defensive positions. He jumped out of the vehicle and ran parallel to the highway until a small elevation offered him a clear view of the valley below. He dived flat on his stomach and pulled his field glasses. A large UFO occupied most of the field of view. "Madre de Dios," he breathed.
        The remains of an aircraft, a Mirage, lay burnt to one side. The aliens had erected a structure the size of a small building, its purpose a mystery. He trained his glasses to the left and spotted a couple of black robots moving heavily on the grass. In front of them, a large box, partnered with another to the far right of the area, looked very much like a gun, artillery or air-defense. Parked behind the large UFO he could see a half a dozen smaller vessels. Sleek and fast looking, he guessed they were the fighters that the Air Force had encountered with disastrous results. He checked his GPS and saved the coordinates. With exact plotting they could fire an artillery barrage, destroy the alien defenses and then finish them off with a combined helicopter and ground attack. In theory.
        Castero started to crawl backwards and then froze. He heard a high-pitch whine and briefly saw a fighter lift off rapidly. He shouted a warning at his troops and noted the driver bolting from the APC. The vessel rose vertically into the evening sky and fired a single torpedo at the stationary target, obliterating it completely. The explosion echoed through the valley.
        "Take cover," screamed the sergeant. He lifted his head as the noise subsided and blanched as he saw the vessel arrowing towards them. The UFO fired to his right, where the majority of his men lay concealed. The earth erupted around them as quadruple Ground Plasma Cannons fired their death particles at them. Castero rolled away from the inferno, covering his head with his hands. Seconds later it was over, the alien aircraft blasting over the horizon. The sergeant, ears ringing loudly from the recent blasts, raised his head and called out to his troops. Horrified he learned that he was the sole survivor. He grabbed his radio and contacted his commander.
        He did not see the black robot sailing over the hill towards him.

        Colonel Estevez jumped from the jeep and marched towards the Army captain. A soldier saw him and shouted: "El Coronel." The captain whirled around and saluted his superior officer.
        "Colonel," he began. "We’ve just finished loading the first of the T-54s on the transport. We’ll have the rest done in under three hours."
        Estevez looked at his watch. Excellent. Record time. He nodded and turned, heading back to the jeep.
        The military compound was ablaze in light, highlighting the drizzle that fell on the capital. Fifteen T-54 main battle tanks from the 1st Armored Division were being driven onto huge flat-bed trucks, ready to be hauled south as support for the already departed infantry battalion. The journey would add an extra ten hours to their schedule. He hoped there was time enough.

        NORAD - November 2nd.

        General Sachs grabbed the phone and growled a ‘yeah’ into the mouthpiece. His secretary informed him that Admiral Rourke, Joint Chief of Staff, was on the other end.
        "Admiral," said Sachs.
        "Situation update, Jim. President just received word from president Fujimori. Peru unofficially requests assistance. Turns out they just lost another fighter squadron. SU-22s."
        "Unofficially, sir?"
        "Right. Beautiful, isn’t it? As you know, in a few hours they’re going to converge on the aliens with an infantry battalion and a tank company in support. Nimitz’s air wing will provide air support."
        Sachs eyes widened. He stopped doodling on his pad. "With all due respect, sir, but isn’t that a role for their Air Force?"
        "Damn straight, Jim. That’s why we get first look at the installation the aliens have set up at Nazca." Well, that must have been a tense negotiation, thought Sachs.
        "If we’re sending our science boys in, sir, X-COM should provide security."
        "Absolutely. That’s cleared. Who do you recommend?"
        "Might be a good time to give the other teams a little mobility. Teams Three and Five, Britain and Spain respectively, could use the training. Throw in Team One for safety’s sake."
        "The attack on the aliens is scheduled to begin in five hours."
        "We’ll be there, Admiral."

        November 2st. Nazca - Peru

        Colonel Estevez ordered the convoy to a halt forty kilometers from the alien compound. Soldiers and engineers dashed from their trucks and commenced preparations for unloading the tanks. From here on, the T-54s would move under their own power.
        The infantry battalion had set up a strong defense perimeter, AA guns and SAM batteries trained south. Once his men were done, he would allow them to rest for a few hours in preparation for the assault. He checked his watch. 13.30 hours. They had moved fast. He made a mental note to commend his captain.

        USS Nimitz - CVN 68.

        Carrier Group Seven commanded by Rear Admiral Nathan Lake, advance on Peru’s Pacific coast at full power, crashing through the choppy seas at close to twenty knots. Surrounding the aircraft carrier the group’s five escort ships struggled through the rough seas.
        Admiral Lake sat in his command chair on the bridge with a worried expression. Heavy drops of rain, pushed by the strong winds, spattered strongly against the windshield. In these conditions, air ops were out of the question. Unless the storm receded somewhat, the Peruvians would have to postpone the attack or look for an alternate means of air support.
        As a last ditch resort he could launch a Tomahawk attack in support of the infantry. But JCS wanted as much of the site as intact as possible.

        Lima International Airport.

        Hyper-X performed a flawless landing and reversed engines, a hatch at the rear of the ramjet directing flow forward instead of backwards. The aircraft decelerated strongly, pitching everyone forward against the belts.
        Keller thought of Catherine. She had appeared excited at the prospect of examining the alien camp but seemed less than thrilled at the thought of crossing the sound barrier several times over in order to get there. He smiled softly as he recalled last nights drinks. She had clung to his arm throughout the night, laughing at his jokes and actually seeming interested in his conversation. Oh, man.
        The aircraft was crammed full. Thirty nine X-COM troops and a dozen scientists, technicians and engineers occupied most of the space. The rest was reserved for weapons. A full complement of laser rifles (after having proven their value in battle, suggesting MP5s would result in mutiny), as well as shoulder anti-tank missiles, grenades, armor and medical and communications equipment. Standard stuff.
        As Hyper-X coasted to a stop at its assigned spot, Keller unbuckled and rose from his seat.
        "OK, gentlemen. Rear and suit up." Traveling with their armor and weapons was uncomfortable and dangerous, so they would don the protective suits and arm themselves in the aft compartment. As he walked back, he saw Catherine. She threw a smile and a wave. His stomach flipped. Great.
        Once done, Keller was the first to descend the stairs into the chilly mid-day air. Behind him came the Spanish captain in command Team Five, to act as an interpreter. Dozens of armed troops and jeeps surrounded the aircraft, making the captain nervous. Remember, he thought, these are friends. Didn’t work. Just as tense. A squat officer, face dark and with the characteristic features of a Peruvian Indian, advanced and stopped in front of the two X-COM officers. He seemed impervious to the strange attire and sci-fi weaponry.
        "Les doy la bienvenida a Peru." The officer was dressed in full battle fatigues and did not seemed pleased to meet them. Keller guessed he wasn’t too happy with the arrangement. Accepting the gringo’s help had probably cost him a tight-lipped argument with his superiors.
        "He say welcome to Peru," translated the Spaniard.
        "Tell him it’s a honor to be here and that we will help as we can."
        "Es un honor estar aquí. Les ayudaremos cómo podamos." The Peruvian captain eyed the Spaniard and then nodded.
        "Síganme, por favor." He turned on his heel and walked to a waiting group of jeeps.
        "We follow," said the Spanish Captain. Keller looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
        "Don’t get the impression were real welcome here."
        The captain shrugged and motioned the men to disembark.

        Colonel Estevez closed his jaw tightly. For the first time in many years he was about to lead his men into combat. Death was not an easy companion and he never got used to her stale breath on his shoulder. A storm had come in from the ocean bringing rain and gray skies. An omen?
        The fifteen T-54 tanks were parked in a row on the shoulder of the road, their 35,000 kilograms of weight sinking the tracks into the soft grass. On command they turned their electrical startup systems, motors firing with a thunder of diesel. Each tank carried a compliment of four men; a driver, seated at the front left of the tank; a commander seated to the left of the turret; a gunner seated in front of the commander and a loader seated to the right of the turret.
        Behind the tanks, five large trucks towed 105mm Howitzer artillery guns and the seven man crew needed to operate them.
        Estevez ordered his driver to move to the front of the convoy. As he passed each tank, faces turned to meet his eyes, some saluting proudly. Young men.
        The Americans had called with bad news. They would not be sending their fighters. Bad weather, they claimed. Excuses, he thought. President Fujimori denied him his own Mirage aircraft. This he understood. Losing another squadron would leave his nation’s airspace totally wide open to the enemies. Peru had a few and not all came from outer space.
        Postponing the attack was not an option. A bad weather front was arriving from the west. A postponement would equal a cancellation, and that was not possible.
        He ordered the driver slowly forward and turned to watch the convoy rumble on behind him.
        An hour later, the convoy reached a point ten kilometers from the alien camp. The five heavy trucks slowed and abandoned the road, fanning out in a parallel line. They drove in a semi-circle so that that the 105s were pointing south and stopped. Crews poured from the trucks and starting setting up the Howitzers.
        The convoy thundered on, fanning into their attack formation. Behind the tanks, jeeps and APCs carried the infantry.

        USS Nimitz - CVN 68.

        The CAG looked worried. The storm had lessened and the F-18s could launch, albeit at a great risk. It took a single engine flame-out or a lurch from the carrier to bring disaster to the group. Conditions were marginal.
        "I don’t know, skipper. Tough call."
        Rear Admiral Lake pulled his moustache and gave his Air Group commander a sideways look. "Colonel Woods?" he asked. He referred to the Hornet squadron commander.
        "Says he’s good to go." The CAG looked at the seas for the umpteenth time. He took a deep breath. "Admiral, I recommend we launch unless conditions worsen."
        "What about recovery?" asked the Admiral.
        The CAG shook his head. "There’s a front on its way, Admiral. If it gets worse, they’ll have to touch down on land."
        The Admiral considered the situation. The Peruvians would be cut to pieces unless he could provide some air cover. On the other hand, his men came first and he had no intention of putting them at greater risk than strictly necessary.
        "All right. Launch the plus-fives. If all goes well, get the rest of the squadron up. I want to know the minute you stop liking it, CAG."
        "Aye, aye, skipper."

If you feel like contacting me with criticism (constructive, I hope) please do so at fsch@elpais.es