Closer to town, Jane remotely activated the colony’s defense array, hastily installed once Roanoke was allowed to use modern machinery. Defense array was a grand term for what the defenses were; in this case a series of linked, automated land defenses and two beam turrets at opposite ends of Croatoan village. The beam turrets could theoretically destroy the rockets blasting their way toward us, provided we had the energy to power them fully. We didn’t; our energy grid was powered by solar power. It was sufficient for the colony’s day-to-day energy consumption but woefully inadequate for the intense power the beam weapons required. Each of the turret’s internal power cells could provide five seconds of full use or fifteen seconds of low power use. The low power level might not destroy a missile entirely, but it could fry its navigation core, knocking the thing off-course.
Jane powered down the land guns. We wouldn’t be needing those. She then made a direct connection to the defense satellite and dumped data into her BrainPal at full speed, the better to understand what she would need to do with the beam turrets.
While Jane powered up our defenses the defense satellite determined which of the rockets represented the most immediate threat to the colony and blasted it with its own energy beam. The satellite scored a direct hit and punched a hole into the missile; its sudden lack of aerodynamics tore the thing apart. The satellite retargeted and hit the second of the three remaining rockets, hitting its engine. The missile veered crazily into the sky, the navigation systems unable to compensate for the damage. The missile eventually came down somewhere, so far away from us that we gave it no further thought.
The defense satellite, its own power cells depleted, was unable to do anything about the final missile; it forwarded speed and trajectory data to Jane, who passed the data immediately to the beam turrets. They came online and started tracking.
Beam weapons are focused and coherent but lose energy with distance; Jane maximized the effectiveness of her turrets by allowing the missile to close distance before firing. Jane chose to fire full-throttle at the missile, opening up with both turrets. It was the right decision, because the missile proved incredibly tough. Even with both turrets firing Jane managed only to kill the missile’s brain, knocking out its weapons, engines and navigation. The missile died just above the colony, but its inertia propelled it forward and down at incredible speed.
The dead missile hit the ground a klick outside the village, gouging an unholy gash into fallow fields and spraying propellant into the air, where it ignited. The shock wave from the explosion was a fraction of what it would have been if the missile’s payload had been armed, but was still enough to knock me on my ass a kilometer away and take away my hearing for the better part of an hour. Shards of the missile flew violently in every direction, their momentum increased by the energy of the propellant explosion. Parts of the missile tore through the forest, tearing up Roanoke trees and spraying flames into the foliage. Other parts punctured structures in nearby homesteads, collapsing houses and barns and turning livestock into bloody patches streaked across the ground.
One portion of the missile’s engine casing flung high in the air, arced down and plummeted toward a plot of earth, below which was the recently constructed shelter of the Gugino family. The casing’s impact instantly collapsed the dirt above the shelter, driving it and the casing into the shelter proper. Inside was the entire Gugino family: Bruno and Natalie Gugino, their six-year-old twins Maria and Katherina, and their seventeen-year-old son Enzo. Who had recently begun courting Zo? once more, to some greater success than he had had before.
None of them would be coming out of that shelter.
An entire family gone in an instant. It was unspeakable.
It could have been so much worse.
I spent the hour after the attack collecting reports around the colony on the extent of the damage, and then headed to the Gugino homestead with Savitri. I found Zo? on the Gugino’s porch, sitting listlessly amid the broken glass of the home’s blown-out windows. Hickory stood beside her; Dickory was with Jane at the remains of the shelter. They were the only two at the shelter; a small group of men stood some distance away, awaiting Jane’s orders.
I went to Zo? and gave her a fierce hug; she accepted it, but didn’t return it. “Oh, sweetheart,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m all right, Dad,” she said, in a tone that made her words a lie.
“I know,” I said, letting her go. “I’m still sorry. This is a hard thing. I’m not sure this is the best place for you to be right now.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Zo? said.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “I just don’t know if this is good for you to be seeing.”
“I needed to be here,” Zo? said. “I needed to see this for myself.”
“All right,” I said.
“I was supposed to be here tonight,” Zo? said, and motioned back toward the house. “Enzo had invited me to dinner. I told him I would come, but then I lost track of time with Gretchen. I was going to call him to apologize when the warning came up. I was supposed to be here.”
“Honey, you can’t blame yourself for that,” I said.
“I don’t blame myself for it,” Zo? said. “I’m glad I wasn’t here. That’s what I feel bad about.”