Bo Jintao felt fear crawl up his spine. He was suddenly aware of the other six members of the Politburo Standing Committee staring at him.

He’d warned them of this! He’d come to power on this basis! He’d told them that the progressives would lead them to a catastrophe, a loss of control, even a world where posthumans overturned the rule of humans.

But he hadn’t thought it would happen so soon!

“Hit them harder!” he told Ouyang .

The General nodded. “Already in progress. We’re moving military assets from the assault on People’s Square. Pulling up other resources.” He paused. “If conventional assault should fail…”

“It cannot fail!” Bo Jintao said. “Spare nothing!”

Ouyang bowed his head briefly. Then he looked up again.

“There is another issue. The deadline we gave to the American fleet expires soon. This is now a distraction. We should postpone it, give them another 24 hours while we deal with this more pressing domestic issue.”

Across the table he saw Bao Zhuang nod, open his mouth to agree.

Wang Wei spoke faster. “No!” the elder Standing Committee member said. “We don’t know that the Americans aren’t involved! They may be working with her! And we’ve told them to vacate our territory. We must follow through on our threats or they lose all power!”

Around the table, Bo Jintao saw other Standing Committee members agreeing with Wang Wei. He swiveled his head, and there were near universal nods of enthusiasm. All except Bao Zhuang and Fu Ping. One of whom he’d stripped of all power. The other had been humiliated by failure.

Fine.

Ouyang shook his head. “I strongly urge the Standing Committee to…”

Bo Jintao cut him off. There were only so many fights that could be fought at once. “We’re done. The Standing Committee has decided, General.”

Ouyang scowled.

Bo Jintao pressed on. “The warning shot goes forward,” he said. “But first and foremost, get to that cluster, and destroy it!”

At Dachang People’s Liberation Army Air Force Base, just west of Shanghai, the Avatar’s thoughts touched her servants, and klaxons sounded.

Unmanned Wuzhen-40s ignited their engines, propelled themselves down their runways, and lifted off into the night sky, loaded with ammunitions. Their operators, brains infused with nanites, instructions strongly imprinted on their minds, steered them towards Jiao Tong.

Protect the university campus.

Protect it against the Army.

On the ground, humans and robots fueled more aircraft, prepped them for takeoff.

General Ouyang sat in the helicopter he was using as a mobile command center, grounded on the pad at Zhongnanhai, thinking.

He’d given the order for the attack on Jiao Tong.

Beyond that?

“Patch me through to General Quan Huyan,” he told his radio operator. “Strategic Missile Command.”

The radio operator in the co-pilot seat nodded.