Fight

by Doug Burbey

  "Watch the news feeds, Colonel."

  Everyone in the room couldn't help but notice that within thirty seconds every European live news feed covering the event went off the air. They didn't even show a 'Technical Difficulties' image. They were just off the air.

  "The EU just put a lid on the event from their news sources. Idiots, what do they think this is 1988? They can't stop the signal. You can never stop the signal." The CIA analyst seemed to be chuckling to himself as Declan watched him push the communications technician out of his seat and began to re-task the monitors. The screens filled with live personal internet video streams around the event and the beach that the landing craft were approaching. "Damn euro politicians think cutting the networks out of the loop stops the data flow. Pffft, morons."

  Declan noticed a beach video showing the BBC reporter at an odd angle, a short distance away from somebody's broadcasting camera.

  What was her name? Nenet something.

  "Hey Jones, can we get audio from video feed number three? That looks like the BBC reporter who was broadcasting from the beach before they cut the feed. She looks pissed and is yelling at someone on her phone."

  "Nope. Can't do it, Kenner. That a tourism beach camera feeding live stream. Video only."

  "Well can you zoom it in at least?" Declan asked while fighting down a frustrating feeling of helplessness.

  "Damn, Kenner, do you ever look at anything on the internet besides porn? These live feed cameras are all fixed-site video. They only broadcast places, or things people want to see but can't visit. Like beaches and panda bear habitats and stuff."

  "Dude, you're the CIA. Hack that shit and zoom it in."

  "Hack it? It's a fixed camera. As in, it is screwed into a wall, you dipshit. There is no zoom!"

  "Oh ok, that makes sense. Never mind then." Declan looked away sheepishly, hoping nobody had just heard the previous exchange and watched the frustrated inaudible BBC reporter gesturing wildly and yelling into her phone.

  What are you seeing Nenet?

  Declan watched her move around, pacing within the fixed camera's framed shot while she talked to her camera operator.

  Maybe you should leave now Nenet? Why haven't they told you to leave yet? Just pack up your gear and leave.

  "All, forty minutes until fixed-wing ISR assets will be on station." Major Koche called out from his station. "Lockbox low earth orbit satellite will be eyes on and overhead in five minutes."

  "Thanks, Joel, authorize ISR usage priority reallocation authority to Central Command as soon as they assume mission." Colonel Grubs directed Major Koche.

  "Acknowledged, sir," Koche replied on automatic, but his voice had an unusual level of tension in it.

  Declan watched the number of people grow on the beach in front of the streaming camera. A crowd of tourists and beach shop workers stood around and pointed their cameras out to sea. They appeared to be laughing and joking with each other excitedly.

  Declan's stomach tightened. He could almost feel something bad about to happen. He glanced over his shoulder at the Colonel. "Sir, shouldn't the Egyptians be getting people off the beach or something?"

  "I doubt they could if they wanted to, Kenner. Here they come folks. Shit, we don't have a thing ready to go with yet." Colonel Grubs sounded frustrated.

  "Lockbox feed up in ninety seconds." Major Koche sounded out.

  Declan watched the first inexplicable landing craft crash over the surf and smash hard into the beach on the tourist camera live feed.

  That must be a brutally rough landing for the things inside.

  He watched Nenet and her camera operator stand in the center of the beach crowd as the front of the landing craft seemed to dilate open. What looked like a wall of red-orange, bipedal, spike-covered creatures of claws and teeth surged forward out of the craft and sprinted as a solid mass of horror towards the crowd. Declan could not hear the crowd, but he could see that the laughing and joking had turned to screams and panic. Even though the crowd had begun to run almost immediately, the things from the landing craft moved astonishingly fast for their relatively human size. The creatures hit the panicked crowd at the speed of galloping horses and barely slowed as they tore through the humans. Even with the poor resolution on the fixed camera and the variable quality of a few cellular phone cameras broadcasting from the beach crowd, now playing on the EOC screen wall, they clearly showed the creatures eviscerating everything in their path. Limbs were sliced and torn off human bodies as the creatures moved quickly past each victim in their path ripping them apart with their claws and spikes.

  Declan nearly lost everything in his stomach as he glanced at a side video showing a live stream from a phone that had fallen screen up on the beach. He watched as a creature's massive clawed hand slammed easily through the chest, of what looked like a woman, and the arm barely slowed as it then traveled through the torso ripping it jaggedly in half. Declan fought to suppress an audible gasp as upper torso pieces landed next to a dropped camera in a splash of blood and viscera.

  Sergeant Major Boozemer glanced around the room at the shocked faces of the younger, now totally silent, members of the EOC team. "All right assholes, this isn't a show. Get your shit together right now and get back to work." The experienced senior non-commissioned officer boomed out with his command voice filling the room with an authority that demanded attention from everyone regardless of rank. "Jones, get all that crap off the monitors and get the team some useful information."

  "I'll take care of it, Sergeant Major." Mr. Jones glanced at the monitors, his faced flushed, as he began replacing the scenes of carnage with updated data feeds.

  "Major Koche, how about giving us an update on what we're picking up with our billion-dollar Air Force toys in space will ya?" The Sergeant Major glared directly at the young Major.

  Major Koche spoke out to Colonel Grubbs from his station. "Sir, the Lockbox satellite system is now online. Tracker confirms no less than two hundred craft have beached already. Estimated watercraft still inbound from the ring is around 1137. But the Lockbox can't get a clear resolution in the area directly around the actual ring. They're pouring watercraft out of the ring in a steady flow and now they're moving some huge damn tank looking things down the bridge towards shore even before it's done. The unidentified forces already beached are massing together as a single formation and are orienting towards Cairo. Lockbox is having no problems tracking the thermal signature of this mass of…. things? "

  Declan barely comprehended what Joel had said. He couldn't look away from the shredded remains of Nenet Halim, deceased BBC Cairo reporter. What was left of her once pretty face was staring right back at Declan from the video monitor until someone switched it off and replaced it with a standard data reporting screen image. Declan felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the Sergeant Major leaning towards him from behind his station.

  The Senior NCO whispered softly "What's done is done, Kenner. There's going to be more horrible shit to see and we need everyone in the game right now. It's why we're here, soldier. Now, shake it off and focus. Whether or not anyone else has picked up on it yet, we just fell into a whole new kind of war."

  "Rodger, Sergeant Major. I'm good. Thanks." Was all that Declan could think of as he answered robotically, the image of Nenet seared into his brain. He swallowed.

  What just attacked humanity?

  Chapter 3

  Call from Cairo, 0835 April 13, 2014, Pentagon EOC

  Declan continued to stare at the live feed monitors wondering if everyone else in the Operations Center was just as confused. It would be another twenty minutes to an hour for the additional intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance assets to be reoriented on the ring and the greater Cairo area. But the feeds they were already getting just showed things getting worse.

  Colonel Grubs paced back and forth between the workstations shouting out rapid-fire orders to the various station officers. "I need to know if we got any goddamn assets on the ground near Cair
o. I also want to know where the Navy's air tasking order for the Mediterranean is and I'm talking about fucking now!"

  Declan glanced over at Joel in the air coordination cell seat. Joel was a seasoned forward air controller from both the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, but he couldn't laze the targets while sitting at a desk in the Pentagon.

  Joel responded quickly to the Colonel's outburst, "Sir, the Navy is reshuffling the air missions right now. It's going to take them about fifteen more minutes. They only had standard patrol birds over the Mediterranean playing with the Russians. They were not loaded with any type of serious ordinance and we still don't have any confirmation of any teams on the ground that can actually laze in the targets."

  "Oh, why do we do all these damn annual exercises with the Egyptians, practicing our air to ground coronation if they can't actually coordinate between the air and the ground? I've got the Sec Def on the phone with the president United States and he wants to know how he can help the Egyptians, right now."

  Major Koche immediately shoved his headset back on and began rapidly dialing the fleet command numbers to get more information to provide to his shift OIC.

  Oh, fuck me.

  Declan took another swallow of his lukewarm coffee and then proceeded to check the network connectivity upgrade request status he had sent in. They needed to start transferring the J-Stars, fixed-wing aircraft intelligence gathering feeds, directly into the data line accessible by the Joint Chiefs and their offices.

  "Kenner! I need you to get Task Force Sinai to get a Grey Eagle in the air right now and en route to Cairo. I want eyes at a low level. We will have the folks at Fort Huachuca take over the avionics control after Sinai gets the bird launched. Then I want the UAV jockeys flying that damn thing about five hundred feet over the buildings to see what the hell is going on."

  "Yes, sir, on it right now."

  Declan started dialing up the phone number Operation Center for the Sinai Observers Mission on the peninsula separating Egypt and Israel.

  The connection went through, and a voice spoke in his headset almost immediately. "This is Colonel Lissip, mission operations cell, send your traffic, over." Colonel Lissip's voice sounded stressed.

  "Colonel Lissip, this is Major Kenner, Pentagon EOC, flash traffic for a national authorization mission follows. You're directed to immediately launch a Grey Eagle to be inflight vectored to Cairo for low altitude ISR. Air corridors will be cleared from this EOC. Flight and payload control will be transferred to Fort Huachuca immediately upon the asset reaching operational altitude."

  "I understand what you're saying Major, unfortunately, our bird is scheduled for preventative maintenance services and flight ops has it grounded as non-flightworthy until that is completed."

  Really? People are being slaughtered and he is gonna get all problematic with this shit?

  "Sir, I understand the status of the bird, this is a priority mission. You need to launch it regardless."

  "This is a multimillion-dollar piece of equipment, Major, I'm not authorized to risk it falling out of the fucking sky."

  "Standby, sir."

  Declan muted his phone call and turned towards the OIC. "Sir, Sinai Mission says the bird is down for preventive maintenance and the on-site Commander does not want to risk overriding his air operations chief."

  "I don't give two shits what that guy wants. I don't care if that thing crashes forty-five minutes into the mission. I want whatever intel I can get. Tell them to launch it now." Grubs voice came out as a low growl.

  "Yes, sir, understood."

  Declan unmuted his call. "Colonel Lissip, this is Major Kenner, you are directed to launch the ISR asset immediately towards Cairo. Loss of the bird is tactically acceptable so long as we get some eyes on what the hell is going on to the west of you. Even if it is only for a little while."

  Declan could hear the colonel cursing to himself before answering. "Understood EOC, I'll get the damn bird in the air. That should take us about ten minutes. But I want you to send me over a written order to cover my ass if that thing blows up mid-air."

  Are you kidding me with this clown? Who do they put in charge of these peacekeeping operations out there anyway? He's got to be some career staff ass-monkey.

  "Yes, sir, we will generate the order and send it right away. But we need it moving now."

  "I got it, Major, we're already on it!" Lissip snapped at him. Declan didn't care.

  "Thank you, sir, EOC out."

  Declan looked over at Joel's station in the air cell, "Joel, the Sinai Grey Eagle should be ready to launch in ten minutes and then they will transfer avionics to flight operations at Huachuca."

  "Rodger, Kenner."

  Declan continued to watch the satellite feeds, but nothing made any sense. The satellite imagery delay did not mesh with the social media live streams or the remaining news media broadcasts that filled the various screens in front of them. With nothing left to do but wait, Declan leaned back and watched the monitors as the coffee in his stomach began to feel like it was turning into acid.

  Lieutenant Colonel Parker from the ground ops section broke protocol and yelled across the room. "The Egyptians finally got at least one Battalion of M1 tanks moving out of a garrison towards the port. I got to give it to these guys, at least they have their ammo nearby their tanks. That didn't take them that long."

  A low cheer greeted that news and Declan smiled.

  Colonel Grubbs acknowledged the operations officer's update. "All right. Thanks, Parker. We don't have the Grey Eagle assets online yet. Is there anything else that we can feed to the Egyptians? Satellite? Has the fucking Navy got the electronic warfare bird up, or anything nearby?"

  "Negative, sir, not next to the city. They have the electronic warfare aircraft oriented towards that weird ass disturbance off the coast. They're trying to get their spectrum analyzers, and radiation sensors, keyed into it to figure out what we're dealing with." Major Koche answered while gesturing towards the flightpath tracking data displayed on a side monitor. "The Navy is having repeated mechanical issues with the aircraft that approach within a couple miles of the site. It's causing some form of electromagnetic interference with the avionics they think."

  The OIC rubbed the bridge of his nose in a habitual stress tic. "Got it, Koche. We need to figure out what that is, but until we can get our shit together, I'm not sure if we can help the Egyptians much."

  Koche spoke up from his station. "Sir, the Navy has reoriented their task orders, they brought the patrol aircraft back down to the carrier deck, they are done refueling, and they and are now ready to load ordnance. But they want to know what mission load we are requesting them to put on the aircraft."

  "How the fuck would I know? Does anybody know what this shit is out there? Cuz if you do, that would be some really damn helpful information about right now. " Colonel Grubbs growled. No one spoke and he sighed. "Shoot… Just tell the Navy to put a bunch of mixed assorted stuff on there. I don't even know what goes on those birds anyway. Tell em to figure it out."

  Unfazed, Koche turned to his terminal and started relaying the message to the fleet admiral. Declan knew that Koche had seen some serious shit when attached to the Special Forces teams. His job was calling in close air support for them. He was a solid asset that never got harried. Declan was about to walk over to Joel's station to see if there is anything he could help with when his personal cell phone buzzed with a text message. He glanced down at the screen and noticed an unknown number so ignored it.

  Great we're in the middle of the possible start of the apocalypse and telemarketers are spamming my phone.

  Declan ignored it and began to slide it back into his pocket as the phone began to immediately buzz in a series of new text messages.

  What the hell?

  Declan glanced at the unknown number, then pulled up the first message so he could hit the block function on the telemarketer.

  'Declan, I need a connection to your EOC line right now!'

  'D
eclan answer the phone!'

  'Declan it's me, Master Sergeant Ray Sammy. I'm in fucking Cairo give me your desk number!'

  Ohh shit! What is Ray doing in Cairo?

  Declan immediately entered the numbers for his desk station's external phone line.

  After a short delay Declan received an incoming external call notification, through his headset, then immediately accepted it.

  "What the fuck are you doing in Cairo, Ray?" Declan started the conversation with immediately.

  "Yeah, yeah, I know Declan, I should have stayed in Greece. My idea of chasing this hot Spanish chick from a beach in Greece to Cairo is working out worse than I thought at the moment. I'm assuming you guys are seeing what the hell is going on over here?" Ray sounded like he was hungover pissed off and embarrassed all at the same time.

  "Dude, we're seeing pieces from various sources, but I don't know what the fuck it is. Nobody does. What the hell are you calling me from anyway? It's coming through as an unknown number."

  "It's my work phone. I'm on the roof of my hotel. God damn chaos out here, Kenner."

  "Yeah, we're monitoring it from here Ray. There's not much that we can do. We do know that Egyptians are trying to move some forces around." Declan started to wave over Major Koche as he transferred the call from his cellular phone to the EOC system. "OK, I'm going to put your call up on main audio so you can talk to our air cell directly."

  "Rodger, standing by Kenner."

  "Okay, Joel, we may have a little help here. This is Master Sergeant Ray Sammy on the line. He's an old buddy of mine and stuck in Cairo. Fortunately for us, he's a trained air combat ground controller."

  "Excellent. Master Sergeant Sammy, this is Major Koche, we are going to need you to talk to whatever assets we can orient in your direction. Any chance you have any contact with the Egyptian ground forces?"

  "Negative, sir. I can hear the Egyptian M1 tanks moving toward the river side of the city, about two blocks west of my current location."

  "Okay, I got it, sergeant. First off, can you give me a military grid reference number from your current location? And secondly, do you have your ATAC application on your phone so you can provide target reference points?"