explained how it was able to repair itself even after being blasted by a nuclear bomb. Somehow, a group of scientists managed to reprogram a collection of nanobots to demolish the Walker's substance rather than rebuild it. Those had been packed into a warhead installed in the Tomahawk they carried. It was hoped that when the missile struck the Walker the nanobots would be released on impact and would destroy it. It was a gamble; no one knew if it would work, or how long it would take, though the principle had been proven using the recovered material. But gamble or not, it was their best hope. If it failed, their only remaining option was to try to make a direct hit with a ten megaton bomb, but there were those who didn't believe it would work.
The radio broke into Eile's thoughts. "Flight leader, Eagle flight, ETA five minutes."
"Eagle flight, flight leader, roger, cleared to engage, repeat, cleared to engage."
"Wilco, flight leader. Out."
"They're getting into position," Sunny reported.
Eile couldn't see it, they were still too far away, but she imagined the Eagles breaking formation to reassemble into a vertical rosette. Six planes would form a ring around the seventh, creating a large face from which to fire a massed salvo. It was necessary to break through the Walker's defenses.
It had only a two-layer barrier, but it was formidable. The first layer consisted of a field of aerial mines called Poppers. About the size of a softball, they floated in a torus around the Walker. Though only one Popper occupied a cubic meter, the field was made up of multiple staggered layers that closed all gaps. They exploded on contact, but the thickness of the field ensured that even a missile was likely to hit at least one while trying to penetrate, and no aircraft had ever made it through unscathed. Despite their size, they packed a wallop; just one could destroy a fighter, and three or four could bring down a bomber.
Experience had shown that only when enough Poppers had been destroyed could aircraft get through the field; the magic number was eighty-five percent. Military analysts had also discovered that it wasn't necessary to attack the whole field. Once a Popper was placed, it stayed in its place until destroyed. Hence, if a section of the field could be reduced to 15% intact or less, aircraft could make it through. The vertical rosette was designed to accomplish this. When they got close enough, they would fire their fragmentary AMRAAMs, and with any luck they would blow a hole through the field.
After that came the second layer, a ring of satellites each the size of a weather balloon. They were called the String of Pearls because each satellite was a featureless, smooth, pearly white ball. If anything got past the Poppers, the Pearls would emit an electromagnetic pulse that would fry all semi-conductor circuits in range, effectively disabling any electrical and computer system. The Eagles were specifically hardened against the EMP, as was her Intruder. Hopefully they would survive long enough to take out the nearest Pearls with their Phoenixes. That would clear the way for the Intruder to make its bombing run against the Walker.
But regardless of the success of the mission, the Eagles were not expected to survive. Eile had made participation in the mission strictly voluntary, but she had been made proud when all her pilots volunteered. Those that were flying with her now were chosen by lots, except their leader.
"Flight leader, Eagle flight, in position, standing by. Three minutes to contact."
"Eagle flight, flight leader, roger."
"Flight leader, target acquired. Pickles going hot. Two minutes to contact."
"Eagle flight, copy. Fire at will, repeat, fire at will."
"Wilco, flight leader. Ninety seconds to contact. Fox three."
"First salvo away," Sunny reported.
Eile waited anxiously for the results.
"Popper field 98% intact," Sunny reported.
"Flight leader, sixty seconds to contact, fox three."
"Second salvo away." Pause. "Popper field 95% intact."
"Shit, this isn't working! Eagle flight, fire all missiles, repeat, fire all missiles."
"Copy, flight leader, wilco. Thirty seconds to contact, fox three."
"Third salvo away."
"Come on, come on!" Eile muttered.
"Popper field 90% intact," Sunny squealed, anxious.
"Dammit! Break off, Eagle flight, break off!"
"Negative, flight leader, we still have our cannons. We'll get you through. Five seconds to contact. Eagle flight out."
"They're going in!" Sunny yelped.
"Aw, cripes!"
"Eagle three, gone. Eagle five, gone. Popper field, 88%. Eagle six, Eagle two, gone. Popper field 85%. Eagle four gone, Eagle seven gone, Popper field 83%."
"Eagle one, break off! That's an order, break--"
"It's too late!"
Eile saw a small fireball bloom in the distance.
At first too shocked to speak, Eile soon felt rage boil up inside her. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" She knew the odds of Eagle survival were low to begin with, but it seemed so senseless for them to throw away their lives like that. They were good men and women, most with families. For a moment, she found herself hoping she wouldn't survive, so that she wouldn't have to inform their loved ones.
"Status," she ordered. When Sunny didn't reply, she turned to look. Sunny was staring out the window as if stupefied.
"Major!" Sunny jumped and looked at her.
"Status!"
Sunny looked at her instruments. "Popper field 80% intact."
Not enough; nowhere near enough, Eile thought. "Jesus, we're not gonna make it." And she didn't know what hurt most, that they would fail their mission, or that Denver would be wiped out.
Read the rest of the story [https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/336463-the-denver-walker]
From "Youthful Indiscretion"
As soon as the block fully reassembled itself, the tolling stopped. Apprehension crept over Henry; he knew something was about to happen, he just didn't know what. Then the room began to grow dark. He looked around at the lights. They didn't appear to grow dim; in fact, they seemed as bright as ever. Rather, the areas over which they cast their luminance shrank as the borders became more distinct and sharp. Beyond them, the room fell into shadow like it would at twilight when the sun had set but the sky was still bright.
In that moment They appeared in his room. It wasn't like how Vlad emerged from shadow, or the affect of Dr. Mabuse's transporter machine. Quite literally one moment the room was empty, and next five beings stood in its center. The thing he noted first was the stench. Though not overpowering, it was enough to turn his stomach, and yet overlaid was the scent of vanilla, which partially mitigated but could not completely cover their foul, rotten odor. At almost the same time he spotted the blue phosphorescent glow that surrounded them like a mist.
Their most horrific feature, however, was that each was deformed or mutilated in some hideous fashion. One was morbidly obese, with its face so swollen with fat that the wrinkles distorted and obscured its features. Another had a flap of skin covering its eyes while its disfigured mouth had the lips pulled back well away from its mouth and the teeth clattered together endlessly like it was chattering. The third was the size of child about his same age, but its flesh had been seared as if in a barbecue while its eyes stared out from their sockets without blinking. Number four looked like a teenage girl, and while bald was otherwise unmarked, except for a gaping wound in her throat held open by small hooks. They all wore clothing that looked like a combination of religious vestments and butchery garments, except they were made from black leather and vinyl. The robes exposed areas of skin on their chests and stomachs, and it was pierced and sliced and coated with fine powder, like talcum, or...ash? The garments themselves were sewn or hooked into the skin, as if that was needed to hold them in place, in the manner of buttons or zippers.
But the fifth and foremost, whom he took to be the leader, was the most compelling. He was hairless, with dead-white skin, and his face and scalp was etched in a grid of lines. At each intersection a large pin or small nail had been driven
into the bone below. Unlike the others, who looked vacant or mindless, he seemed intelligent and aware. He stared at him with a sardonic half-smile, as if he alone knew a secret others would give their lives to know. It sent chills down his back even as he felt ill. Yet despite how repulsive they appeared, there was something about them that he found fascinating, even provocative. Even as he feared he would vomit at any moment, he felt enchanted by their presence, even a little bewitched.
But then the nail-headed one frowned, like he realized something was wrong. His companions moved towards the bed, he assumed with the intent to take him, but as they tried to go around their leader, he held up a hand.
"No, he did not summon us."
Summon!? He stared down at the block in horror. That's why it was in the vault! How could I be so stupid!
Vlad appeared in an explosion of shadow, in front of the bed between him and the monsters. "Run, Little Master!"
Whatever spell, psychological or psychic, that held him in that room broke, and his terror galvanized him. He ran for the door to the nurse's room, pulled it open, and made for the opposite side, which led into the nursery. From there he could access the secret stairwell and make his way down to his mother's office. She would protect him.
As he reached the other door, he heard the one to his bedroom slam shut.
Vlad moved to block the door to keep the Cenobites from following his Master's son, but he felt the one called Pinhead extend his power
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