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“Form up, you know your targets.”


Doomsday peeled off, taking two craft with him to hit a suspected communication and control sector several hundred clicks from the landing areas, other fighters and bombers turning off seconds later to hit their assigned targets.

Light cloud cover was ahead, high in the atmosphere. He punched through and below him, clear in the shimmering desert heat, was his target, the base clearly visible in the middle of a high plateau. He went into a dive, aiming for a canyon cut into the side of the plateau. Just as he entered the canyon a missile streaked by straight overhead and slammed into the far side of the crevice, the concussion rattling his ship. He wove down the canyon for half a dozen kilometers, mentally calculating the moment, and then popped back up and turned straight in at the base.

He released a missile which streaked away and several seconds later was broken into half a hundred sub munitions, each of the small arm-length bolts locking on to individual radar and commlink targets and tracking them in. Skimming in low, less than fifty feet off the ground, Jason watched as the volley of shots leaped ahead. Several seconds later the first round hit, the matter/antimatter explosive heads mushrooming out. The entire top of the plateau suddenly seemed to lift into the air as all fifty warheads found their marks and cut loose.


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Framed