Finally she spoke. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As genocide.”

NATIONAL GUARD HQ, USS INTREPID SEA, AIR, & SPACE MUSEUM

“WE HAVE FIGHTING in every borough, sir.”

Potts nodded. “I can see the map. Get air support over to Queens. The armored units are being outmaneuvered.”

“All we have available are a couple squadrons of AH-98s, sir.”

Potts nodded. “I know they’re outdated, but they won’t be taking on the Block’s best. These things are nothing compared to the Block Mantis fighters. Send them in.”

“Yes sir.”

The AH-98s were about as old school as any active-duty airframe got. No counter-mass support. No advanced AI flight controls. They were now used exclusively as trainers in the general military, but the New York Air National Guard still fielded a few squadrons.

Potts was old enough to remember just what they were capable of, however, so he wasn’t too badly concerned. That said, he did wish that he had a few squadrons that weren’t obsolete by a few decades under his belt.

Every damn unit worth a damn is stationed in a ring of fire around the Block. Okinawa, Germany, Iraq. We’ve got nothing but obsolete gear here.

We’ll just have to do the job despite all that.

The munitions truck was expecting them, as promised, and Weston was glad to see that they had a decent supply of depleted uranium rounds in a few calibers.

“Show me the twenty millimeter rounds,” Eric said, nodding to the crate he could see on the back of the large truck.

“Yes sir.”

Eric loaded a single round of twenty millimeter by hundred and four millimeter depleted uranium into the Priminae weapon. It wasn’t a gun by the strictest definitions, and certainly wasn’t a rifle or anything that like. It was a gravetic accelerator cannon, and as such didn’t actually need any specific type of ammunition. Anything you could fit into the receiver would fly just fine out the business end.

The gun took the twenty millimeter round, levitating it smoothly into the ready position. He checked the clearance quickly. Eric figured he could go larger, up to eighty millimeters in a pinch, but lugging around munitions that size would be a pain in his ass and he felt the need for mobility.

Besides, this city is about to buried in bullets I can pick up whenever I need them.

Eric grabbed a canvas bag from the truck, flipped it open quickly, proceeding to shovel rounds into the bag from the crate. When he was done he flipped the bag over his shoulder and nodded to the men. “Thanks for the reload. Does anyone have a full uplink?”