Extreme Arsenal

Lyons nodded. “Have a good time.”

Lyons, Blancanales and the team of MPs rode off on their four-wheelers.

Logic told Schwarz that there wouldn’t be any trouble, but something nagged at him. “General? Could you have someone set the lab up for me?”

Rogers looked after Lyons and Blancanales as they left. “You’ve got that feeling, too.”

Schwarz pulled a spare helmet off the ATV they’d set aside for him. He checked the rifle stuck in the saddle, then made sure his personal weapons were secure. “I’ve learned never to distrust my instincts. As soon as they pulled away…”

“I understand. Don’t waste time gabbing with me,” Rogers told him.

Schwarz fired up the ATV and rushed off to join the rest of Able Team.

THE PLATOON OF RANGERS that Able Team hooked up with had the mine entrance hemmed in. The powerful Fabrique Nationale M-240 machine guns rested on bipods. The 7.62 mm muzzles stared into the darkened cave, ready to unleash a torrent of armor-piercing thunder against anything that made a move out the front. A trio of Dragon antitank missile pods rested on their legs, the big fat tubes similarly aimed. The Dragon warheads had the power to tear apart any modern tank, and if they couldn’t stop the Ankylosaurs, they would at least bring down a huge section of mountainside.

Tons of rubble would stop even the killer robot tanks.

Carl Lyons waited for the Rangers to set up the mighty M-2 .50-caliber machine guns. That would finish the ring of steel that would hem in any escaping drones. He pulled his rifle from the ATV’s saddle sheath and snapped back the bolt, chambering a .50 Beowulf rifle round into his weapon’s breech. The magazine held twelve of the massive rounds in the same space that a normal M-16 would have held a full thirty shots. He traded firepower for purely awesome stopping power. While the .50 Beowulf round was only half as long as the rounds fired by the M-2 machine gun, it was still a significant powerhouse. Kissinger had given Able Team several magazines of tungsten-cored slugs, designed for use against armored vehicles.

Just in case.

Lyons checked the light on the muzzle of his rifle, then looked to the others.

“M-16, Viking style,” Blancanales said. He couldn’t quite hide the tension in his voice.

Schwarz slipped on a pair of Wolf Ears hearing protectors and clicked them on. “Give me a sound check.”

Blancanales and Lyons wore the same hearing protectors. Advanced electronics and padding would prevent ruptured eardrums caused by the thunder of automatic weapons in a cave, but sensitive microphones would pick up softer sounds that could betray an enemy. The three men of Able Team had trained with the Wolf Ears long enough to know that they worked under stressful, nasty and dirty conditions. When they were forced to use full-power, unsuppressed weapons in a tunnel, they often made the effort to wear the hearing protector-amplifiers.

“Testing,” Lyons whispered.

“Yabba dabba doo,” Blancanales spoke softly.

“You guys are confusing me as to which one’s the caveman,” Schwarz quipped.

Lyons slipped his goggles down over his eyes again. He made sure they didn’t displace his Wolf Ears. “Funny. Remind me to laugh later.”

“Whenever I do, you hit me with a newspaper,” Schwarz answered. The Able Team leader only narrowed his gaze. He wasn’t known for his sense of humor, especially this close to a possible engagement.

“Lock and load your rifles,” Lyons ordered as he picked up a large lantern. “I’m on point.”

Blancanales and Schwarz put aside their banter and fell into step behind Lyons. They spread out and stalked into the mine entrance.

Blancanales paused and shone his light on the ground. “This floor has been graded.”

Lyons knelt and ran his fingertips over the hard-packed earth. “No signs of treads. Gadgets?”

“They weren’t hovercraft,” Schwarz replied. “But what dust there is has been smoothed out. Look…There are rails.”

Lyons walked over and tapped his flash hider against the bent metal. “Something heavy rolled over this. There’s gouge marks on it, too.”

Blancanales looked at the scarred and mutilated metal, then stared deeper into the tunnel. “Some other machine?”

“A digger?” Schwarz asked. He moved farther down the tunnel, then squinted through his goggles. “Someone knocked a back door through to Yuma’s testing facility.”

Schwarz pulled out a map from his case and flicked his light on it. “The Bear gave me some maps to help me figure out how the attack drones could have escaped.”

“This mountain range is heavy-duty granite, though,” Lyons said. “Right?”

“Mountains usually occur when tectonic plates collide. The higher the mountains, the newer they are and the more force behind their collision. The Blue Ridge Mountains, where the Farm is located, are very old and worn down, but there are fissures and caves throughout them. Geological surveys try to map them out, but you can’t find them all,” Schwarz answered. “Whoever made this attack had this place geographically staked out.”

“And they had just the right size digger to punch a hole big enough from a naturally formed cave, or even an underground river to pop up in this mine,” Lyons finished. His brow furrowed. “It’s been nearly fifteen hours since the initial attack. We might have lost the trail.”

Something rumbled in the darkness.

“Or not…” Blancanales spoke up. He shouldered his rifle and looked through its scope. “Something big’s moving in.”

Lyons snicked the safety off on his Beowulf. “Pull back.”

An engine revved and roared, and floodlights snapped on. The Able Team leader pivoted and opened fire, .50-caliber, tungsten-cored slugs erupting from the muzzle of his rifle. The heavy slugs sparked violently on machinery. Through the lights, the three Stony Man commandos saw the whirling shapes of multiple drill heads spin wildly.

“Aw, hell,” Schwarz muttered as he cut loose with his own weapon. “We found the digger!”

“Fall back!” Lyons bellowed as the machine continued to close.

Blancanales triggered the M-203 attachment under his Beowulf. “Fire in the hole!”

A tunnel-shaking explosion, deadened by the sonic filters on the Wolf Ears, flared. The drilling machine was cast in stark relief. The moment that the high-explosive flashed, three rotating cones of multiple drills were visible, gnashing stone-chewing teeth flickering wickedly like the mouth of some hideous dragon.

The digger paused for a brief moment, shaken by the high-explosive grenade fired by Blancanales, then lurched forward again. Lyons shoved the Able Team veteran behind him and held down the trigger for an extended burst of heavy-caliber, armor-piercing slugs.

The spinning drill heads bounced slugs all over. The machine was all but indestructible as it bore down relentlessly on them.

Lyons dumped the empty magazine from his rifle, then looked back at Blancanales, who forced a fresh grenade into the breech of his launcher.

“I told you to move it!” Lyons growled.

A canister sailed over the two men, interrupting the Able Team commander.

“Heads down!” Schwarz called.

Lyons grunted as Blancanales kicked him out of the way and aimed at the ceiling above the digger.

The double-shock wave shook the whole mine and rolled over Lyons as if it were the treads of the deadly machine itself. Rock tried to flex, but shattered and crumbled. The pressure wave blew the Wolf Ears right off Lyons’s head, and he shook off the thunderbolt that cracked between his ears.

A clap on his shoulder brought him out of a temporary daze and he saw Blancanales shouting at him. The man’s lips moved, but nothing was coming through the ringing in his skull. He glanced over and saw the digger, its drill bits still whirring wildly. It had stopped, though, one light torn from its housing by the shearing force of the double explosion.

“—said are you okay, Ironman?” Blancanales asked.