“Contact the Baynor’s Bay port authority,” Santana ordered. “Give them the recognition code and order them to cease fire. All personnel will prepare for a crash landing followed by surface combat.”

“That message was sent,” the computer responded, “and a confirmation was received. But TACBASE-011767 continues to take fire.”

The flying fortress shook violently as a barrage of cannon shells and missiles slammed into it. But the durasteel hull was built to take a lot of punishment and did. “I’m trying to contact the locals as well,” Ponco put in. “But no luck so far.”

“TACBASE-011767 is running low on fuel and will have to put down within three minutes and seventeen seconds,” the computer announced. “Please designate a landing zone.”

Santana swore and made use of the small joystick on his armrest to scan Baynor’s Bay. Then, based on what he could see, he chose what millions of military leaders had chosen before him. And that was the high ground. “Put us down on top of that hill.”

“I have a contact,” Ponco announced, as the fortress passed over the town and neared the hill. “Or contacts. It seems there are two militia groups on the ground. One is ordering the other to stop firing.”

A couple of homes could be seen on top of the hill, along with a small water tank and the remains of a com mast. All of the structures disappeared as the computer triggered a dozen drop tubes-and an equal number of specially designed “weed cutters” laid waste to the hilltop. “That ought to get their attention,” Dietrich said darkly.

Suddenly, the main monitor went to black as the TACBASE was consumed by a rising cloud of smoke. There was a thud as the fortress landed. The deck tilted to one side but came level again as hydraulically controlled supports probed the ground, found solid footing, and made the necessary adjustments. Moments later, the computer began to drone its way through a status report. “Sensors, on. Ground defense system, on. Com system, on…”