Extinction Machine

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-three

The Situation Room

The White House

Monday, October 21, 8:33 a.m.

President Collins leaned forward, hands balled into fists, as the phalanx of slow dots moved toward the single light that tore across the Pacific. Suddenly the screen was littered with hundreds of smaller lights that erupted from the oncoming jets.

“All missiles have been fired,” said Admiral James. “Ten seconds to impact.”

The missiles flew in a converging line, like a net being drawn tight around a fish.

“Come on, come on,” breathed Collins. The room crackled with tension.

And then the white dot changed direction. It was a shockingly fast eighty-degree turn. The direction and altitude meter for the craft ripped through a new sequence of numbers.

“It’s turning,” cried James. “God, it’s climbing.”

“It’s accelerating,” said General Croft.

The T-craft shot over the line of missiles at Mach 23.6.

The missiles still flew toward where it was.

But it wasn’t there anymore.

Every second it was closer to China.