She nodded. Looking out the main viewscreen she watched as
the Bismark’s naval PPC’s fired again. This time they were not
locked onto the Avalanche, but on another distant target. Angel
One. “Sensors. Lock onto Angel One. Give me his status.”
The officer worked fast and furious at the controls. He looked
up with a drained expression on his face. “Angel One is off the
board.”
Her eyes widened. “Any signal from his payload?”
The operator stabbed at buttons and controls furiously. “Sweet
Kerensky…” he muttered. There was a distant but brilliant flash
from the planet below. “Nuclear detonation on Circe.” From the
viewport on the bridge, the bright, white flash was somewhat
diffused from orbit. It looked as if a hurricane had suddenly ap-
peared, a dark purple/black storm of carnage and destruction. A
sick, black circle of the storm appeared on the surface and began
to spread out. Flickers of red and orange appeared on the black—
fires—negative—infernos erupting below. The ground seemed to
bubble sickly. It was as if a tornado of fire rose up stabbing into
space.
“He did it,” she said unconsciously.
“Negative, sir,” the sensor operator called out. His face was
pale.
“Negative?”
“Payload was dropped and detonated off-target,” his voice wa-
vered.
“Where?”
He hesitated as the color drained from his face leaving a white
visage of the Snow Raven officer. “It has detonated as an airburst
over Dehra Dun.”
“Our capitol? Query negative?”
“Affirmative, Khan,” the man said as if he were on the verge