The Moscow Offensive

Eight

More than two hundred kilometers east of Novosibirsk, rugged, stream-cut foothills rose higher and higher — climbing steadily toward the iron-, manganese-, and gold-rich slopes of the Kuznetskiy Alatau Mountains. Dense fir and pine forests covered most of the region. Digital and paper maps showed only a handful of dirt roads, mostly used by logging companies cutting local timber.

Those maps were out-of-date.

For several months, troops from the Russian Army’s 60th Engineer Regiment had labored under enormously long stretches of carefully erected camouflage netting to cut and pave a new road through the woods. Wide enough for heavy trucks, this concealed thoroughfare tied into the P-255 Novosibirsk-Irkutsk highway. It ended at a new top-secret military training area set aside for use by RKU’s Kiberneticheskiye Voyennyye Mashiny, its Cybernetic War Machines.

Flanked by his bodyguards, Gennadiy Gryzlov left the half-buried concrete bunker that had kept him safe during a recently completed live-fire exercise. His eyes gleamed with excitement and pleasure. Years of carefully laid plans were coming to fruition. Russia’s first operational KVMs had all the mobility and firepower their designer, Dr. Mikhail Aronov, had promised and more.

Quickly, Gryzlov strode off along a winding footpath, savoring the sight of burned-out armored vehicles and explosion-shattered mock buildings scattered through the nearby woods and clearings. Soldiers scurried in all directions putting out fires. Others scrambled to drag new camouflage panels over wrecked vehicles and ruined structures, hopefully hiding them from satellite view.

Abruptly, a voice blared out from concealed loudspeakers. “Preduprezhdeniye! Preduprezhdeniye! Warning! Warning! The next hostile satellite pass will occur in thirty minutes. Repeat, the next satellite pass will occur in thirty minutes. Expedite all preplanned concealment operations.”

His pleasure momentarily derailed, Gryzlov scowled. This continuing need to hide their activities from America’s spy satellites was an unwelcome reminder that he did not yet fully control all of Russia’s frontiers. The day must come, he thought coldly, when his country dominated both the world and the cold dark vacuum of space around it. Nothing less would do.

The sight of one of the KVMs stationed beside the path restored his good humor. Lean and lethal-looking, the war robot towered over Vladimir Kurakin and Dr. Aronov. Bulky weapons packs were attached at various points around its long torso. From his emphatic gestures, the portly professor of cybernetics was explaining something to Kurakin.

Both men stiffened to attention when Gryzlov joined them. “My congratulations on a successful training exercise, gentlemen,” he said easily. “But carry on. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Aronov stammered. “I was just discussing proposed weapons load-outs with General… I mean, with Mr. Kurakin.”

“And what have you decided?” Gryzlov asked.

“That the guns and missiles carried by our KVMs must be tailored precisely to each planned mission,” Kurakin said. He tapped the dull gray metal and ceramic leg of the robot beside him. “As powerful as these machines are, they have limitations.”

“It’s mostly a question of battery power and volume, sir,” Aronov explained apologetically. “The more weapons and ammunition a KVM carries, the more power it consumes when moving. Excessive weight will greatly reduce their effective combat range. And autocannons, antitank missiles, and the like are all quite bulky. We only have room to carry so many of them at one time.”

Gryzlov nodded his understanding. He’d been fully briefed on the weapons systems Kurakin had selected to equip RKU’s combat robot force. While Russia’s scientists and engineers had not yet been able to re-create the remarkable electromagnetic rail guns used by Martindale’s CIDs, their own fighting machines would still be able to bring a deadly assortment of armament to bear in any battle.

For heavy firepower, each fighting machine would employ a massive Russian-made GSh-30-1 30mm autocannon. Used by fighter and ground-attack aircraft, it was an extremely powerful and accurate weapon. As a plus, the GSH-30-1 was in service with more than twenty countries around the world, many of them third-world nations with notoriously lax control over their armaments stockpiles. Directly tying the use of these autocannons to Russia itself would be a difficult task for any investigator.

The same thing applied to the other weapons Kurakin had chosen. For example, on missions that might involve contact with enemy armored forces, each KVM could carry up to three Israeli-made Spike fire-and-forget antitank missiles. More than two dozen nations had those missiles in their inventory. Best of all, they were also used by Poland’s mercenary Iron Wolf Squadron. Gryzlov allowed himself a quick, predatory smile at that thought, imagining Martindale and that Polish piece of shit Wilk desperately claiming their robots weren’t responsible for the havoc Kurakin’s KVMs were about to wreak.

“Very well, Dr. Aronov,” he said. “Make sure all the pilots, unit commanders, and technicians understand exactly what these machines can and cannot do.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Gryzlov turned to Kurakin. “Are your plans to infiltrate the combat robot force complete?”

Kurakin nodded confidently. “They are, sir.” Again, he patted the robot looming above him. “Thanks to Dr. Aronov’s cleverness, each KVM is completely modular. They can be broken down into their separate components, all of which are easily concealed inside shipments of heavy machinery — especially the kind of machinery used in power plants and other energy industry facilities. Once at their final destination, the robots can be reassembled in a matter of hours.”

Gryzlov smiled. “It’s fortunate that a Russian-owned firm routinely exports such equipment to Mexico, is it not?”

Kurakin shot him an answering smile. “Fortunate indeed, Mr. President.”

“Otlichnaya rabota! Excellent work!” Gryzlov said. “You are authorized to begin shipping your KVMs immediately. I want them ready for action as soon as possible.”

While Kurakin hurried away to issue the necessary orders to his pilots and technicians, Gryzlov turned back toward a camouflaged landing pad built behind the observation bunker. Once the American spy satellite completed its pass over this area, his light Ansat-U helicopter could safely depart. A nondescript private jet stood by at Novosibirsk for the longer flight back to Moscow. With luck, no one outside his inner circle would ever realize he’d been gone.

To his surprise and irritation, Aronov tagged along with him. “You have something else to report, Doctor?” he asked. “I’ve already read all of your technical assessments of these robots. Is there some new development I should know about?”

“It’s not so much an assessment of the KVMs themselves,” the professor said, hesitating a bit. “More a concern about possible psychological effects their pilots could experience.”

“Go on,” Gryzlov said with deceptive mildness.

Aronov swallowed hard. “I’m worried that prolonged operation of these powerful machines — especially the mental and physical isolation involved when connected to their neural interfaces — might give pilots a dangerous sense of almost superhuman invulnerability. If so, the consequences—”

Gryzlov cut him off with a dismissive, offhand gesture. “War is not a place for weaklings, Aronov,” he said. “These men have already proven themselves in high-performance fighter aircraft, under maximum stress while pulling high-Gs. Compared to that, running around in those metal suits of yours will be like a stroll in the park.”