Marcos drove south down the highway with Weizza riding shotgun. The rest of the crew was asleep, with the exception of Alice, brooding in the row behind them.

"I need to fly some cargo in," declared Weizza.

"Okay, so call FedEx or something," Marcos grumbled.

"I have the planes, I do not have the necessary clearance," Weizza replied. "I need you to get them into America unexamined."

"I'm not sure if my connections are still good," Marcos considered. "My last move was stealing a classified spy jet and ditching it in a parking lot on the opposite side of the country. They can't be happy about that."

"Then make them happy." Weizza replied. "If you want to breach Lynch's security we need this cargo. It will not clear customs without help."

"If I tell the military what we're doing they'll lend a hand," Marcos offered. "We might not even need your cargo. With government backing we should be able to crack that puppy no problem."

"I believe your armed forces have been infiltrated by Lynch's men. But even were they not, Lynch is under three miles of rock, with substantial fortifications. No bombs can touch him, and even a skeleton crew could defend the position for weeks against invasion. Frankly your military does not have the tools for this job."

"And I suppose you do?"

"Correct. My assets are currently in flight. But I don't want them shot down or impounded by your overzealous border agents."

Marcos shrugged. "I'll make the call. See what I can do."

He dialed a number through his command glasses.

"General Hausner please. Sure, I'll wait."

The line was momentarily quiet, then a stream of vitriol blared from Marcos's ear piece.

"Yes sir. I deserve that sir. No sir, I am not wasting your time. I've got a line on Alice Yang and Robert Angstrom. I think I can bring them in - they might have ideas on how to stop this madman."

Marcos paused for Hausner to speak. The voice on the other end still sounded angry, but less so.

"No sir, I won't be taking any more of your resources. In fact, I have some cargo on the way to help. It won't clear customs though. Can we put a military designation on an inbound plane?"

"Uh huh. That'll work. I'll send the flight info over. And uh, this is sensitive, let's keep it quiet."

"Thank you sir, you won't regret this."

"As you will sir."

Marcos hung up.

"Well, that went better than I hoped. Old guy still trusts me I guess. Send me the info on your planes Weizza, I'll shoot it over to the big boss."

"When will your gear arrive?" Alice asked from behind.

"Eight hours," Weizza replied. "We can rendezvous with it on our way to the mine."

"Can you tell us any more about the Blackmountain fortifications?" Marcos asked. "I'd like to know what we're heading into."

"My data is limited to what I can see from the air," Weizza answered. "About a thousand troops moved to the base over the course of the last week. They've fortified top-side; basic anti-fragmentation walls, with tank traps and land mines around the perimeter. There are anti-aircraft and artillery batteries in the center. None of this will pose a problem for me.

"The interior is a mystery. Blackmountain upgraded all of their mines several years ago with underground power generation and heavy blast doors. They may have installed additional defenses.

"The bottom layers of the mine are mostly underwater; they clear tunnels as needed. We'll need to take control of the pump system to reach Lynch."

"So how do we get in then?" Alice asked.

"We saturate the defenses." Marcos replied. "Weizza's bringing a bot swarm, right?"

"Correct Marcos. I will deploy the largest swarm ever fielded."

"How do we get in position?" Alice asked. "Won't they see us coming and blow us up with artillery?"

"My planes are chartered as consumer electronics. They look like any other freight. From the airport I will transfer the swarm to cargo pods and send them down the highway. The mine is less than a mile from the road, near the town of Grass Valley. I will deploy at their doorstep."

Marcos was nodding. "Solid. By the time they aim the big guns we'll be on top of them."

"Seems like you and Marcos have this under control," Robert chimed in. "Maybe the rest of us can wait it out at a hotel or something?"

Marcos gave Robert a disdainful glance through the rearview mirror.

"You will hack the pump system," Weizza replied. "And Alice will be ready to hijack Petbe as soon as we have control. As for the children," Weizza looked at Julian and Nadeja sleeping in the back, "they may remain behind."

"Now I suggest those of you who need sleep take it. Things will move quickly once we reach Grass Valley."

***

Alice tugged uncomfortably at her harness. "Is there any way to adjust this thing? It's digging in to my collarbone."

Marcos walked over, nearly a foot taller now from the power-armor exoskeleton. "Let me see what I can do." He cinched a few straps in the back, loosened another in the front, and suddenly the pain dissipated.

"Thanks," Alice said with half a smile. "Never worn one of these."

"You and everyone else," Marcos replied. "I hadn't heard of anyone getting the tech combat ready. I've only tried tethered prototypes. The power supply was always the problem for battery powered units."

Marcos strutted down the storage unit in great, augmented strides. He grinned at the power. "Weizza, who makes this anyway?"

"I do," she replied flatly. "It uses my own lithium-air battery technology. I have solved the cathode problem, but durability remains an issue. The battery will be a total loss after today's exercise."

"So how much juice have I got?" Marcos asked.

"That depends on how you use it. The passive systems will run for days on a charge. All out sprinting, about an hour. I have found about two hours of combat use is typical. After that, pull this cord," Weizza indicated a tethered strap by her hip, "and the suit will fall off of you."

"So other than running fast and punching hard, what can I do with this?" Alice asked, flexing her legs as she tested the hydraulics.

"Much of the advantage is supporting heavy body armor. You are protected against all gunfire short of anti-tank munitions.

"Your right arm has an integrated assault rifle with targeting assist, and both gauntlets have quick release blades for close combat. Turn your hand like this," Weizza demonstrated and a wicked looking knife appeared in each hand, "to access them.

"Additionally, each of you has two rounds of heavy ordinance on your back. Ba Kuang and I have anti-aircraft missiles, Robert, Alice, and Marcos have short-range mortars. Other than that, yes. You can run fast, and punch hard."

"Any trick to movement?" Marcos asked.

"The suit is self-correcting. Act normally and it will do what you want."

Marcos squatted to test his suit, then jumped up and punched a hole through the ceiling up to his elbow.

"Whoops."

"Sadly it cannot correct for idiocy," Weizza deadpanned. "We have wasted enough time. Let us go."

"Goodbye Julian," Alice said, hugging her son carefully through the suit.

"Be safe Mom. Good luck."

Marcos gave his son a quick salute, then turned out the door.

The four combatants hustled from the self-storage unit Weizza had rented back to the van. It was mid-afternoon and the facility was empty in the summer heat.

With some adjusting of the seats they were able to cram back in to the vehicle fully armored. They definitely got some looks from other drivers who happened to look inside the van. Of course, they were about to get a whole lot more conspicuous.

A line of red dots marched across Alice's heads-up display like a trail of electronic ants, showing the current position of the assault forces on the highway. Weizza had distributed her autonomous munitions across a series of cargo pods and mixed them in with the steady stream of emergency supplies being routed around the country. She was currently in one of her trances, running diagnostics and preparing for deployment.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing only whites. "There is activity on the base," she said suddenly. "Blackmountain is moving to combat stations. We have been detected."

Alice looked at the map. The forces were still five miles out from the intended deployment point. Another few minutes and it wouldn't matter what Lynch did. But they might not have that long.

"Artillery is preparing to fire," Weizza intoned, "Deploying now."

Traffic on the highway ground to a halt as cargo pods swelled and burst like overripe melons. Spiders, gun rats and wings boiled from the vessels in a seemingly never-ending stream of robotic vermin.

"Eighty percent deployed," Weizza intoned. "Shells inbound, prepare for impact."

Artillery fire rained down upon the highway.