by Ryan King
“So, martial law?” Nathan pressed. “I took the liberty of drawing up the order. All it needs is your signature to go into effect. There’s also an arrest warrant for Ernest Givens, just to get him off the streets for a while.”
“I don’t like this. People will see it as me trying to influence the elections.”
“Then postpone the elections, too. You can do that under martial law.”
Reggie shook his head. “That never goes well.”
“Look,” said Nathan. “I understand this is terrible timing and could very well cost us the election. At this point I don’t care. I’m afraid we’re in danger of losing everything.”
Reggie shook his head sadly before walking over and signing the first document. “I’m not signing the arrest warrant, not yet.”
“But he caused all of this,” said Nathan.
“You’re telling me he held a gun to the head of every single person and made them riot?”
“Of course not.”
“Then, they’re responsible for their own actions,” said Reggie. “He may have contributed to all of this, but I doubt he set out to intentionally cause a riot.”
“I’d feel safer with him behind bars,” said Nathan.
“I would, too,” said Reggie, “but the answer is still no.” He then rubbed his head and began to shake.
“You okay? You don’t look so good,” Nathan said, noticing his friend’s color.
Reggie closed his eyes and sat down in a nearby chair. “Just a cold, I think.”
“Go on home. Get some rest. We’ll take care of things here.” Nathan stared hard at him. “Seriously, I’ll get someone here to take you.”
“Perhaps I will,” answered Reggie as a lethargy rolled over him.
The unsigned arrest warrant rolled off the table and onto the floor.
Chapter 8 - Reconnaissance
Joshua ordered his men to establish a base camp in a secluded location north of Huntsville. There, they left their weapons, most of their supplies, bicycles, and Wildcat.
Trailer, Conrad, and Joshua walked south alone. They re-donned their old clothes and concocted the cover story of being from WTR and were looking for seasonal labor before returning back home. Now that tractors were mostly dead, and draft animals scarce, human backs were critical to planting and harvesting.
Huntsville itself was like many formerly prosperous cities after N-Day. The outskirts were most of the times abandoned and often stripped of useful items. Sometimes, whole neighborhoods were burned wastelands where sparks had started fires that raged unchecked by those who could put them out. Sometimes, residents from safer areas close to the town center came out during the day to tend gardens hidden in the back of abandoned houses. Inside of these vast vacant areas was often a transition zone where you started to see people and signs of habitation. This transition zone was also usually where any defensive perimeter would be located.
A few blocks from the city center where most people still lived and traded, they were stopped, searched, questioned and released. Trailer did most of the talking, and within minutes, the guards went from stern and suspicious to casual and helpful.
“You seem to have a way with people,” Joshua said to Trailer after they had walked away.
“It’s the height I think. People are initially put off by it, but when they realize I’m not going to eat them, they relax very quickly. Plus, I’m funny as shit.”
“I guess we’ll just have to take your word on that one,” said Conrad.
Walking through the streets, they found people subdued and quiet. Everyone seemed to be going about their business without the normal amount of banter. Few of those they passed would make eye contact.
“This seems like an odd place,” said Conrad.
They turned down a side street that led to a large square. In the middle of a square was an individual hanging by his neck. The man didn’t look like he had been up there long.
“That was this morning,” said an old woman, sweeping the front of a nearby shop that appeared to sell cloth and homemade clothing.
“What did he do?” Trailer asked.
The woman shrugged. “Who knows? I can’t keep track anymore. Drugs or stealing or talking bad about the Reaper. They’ll probably be a different one up there tomorrow morning. Walk a few blocks south and you’ll probably see more of the same.”
“Reaper?” asked Conrad.
She stopped sweeping and looked them up and down. “You must really be new. Stay around here long enough and you’ll see him. My advice is hunker down and hope his eye doesn’t fall on you. There’s a reason he’s called the Reaper.”
“Thank you kindly,” said Conrad. “We’re just going to go somewhere else now.”
Walking south, they did see more bodies. One seemed to hang at nearly every intersection.
“We’ve at least learned they’re not short on rope,” said Trailer.
“Don’t be so hasty,” said Conrad, pointing off to their left. “That one was hanged by a dog chain.”
“Damn that had to hurt,” said Trailer.
“Yeah,” said Conrad, “it was the chain that made it hurt. Otherwise being hanged would have only been uncomfortable.”
“You hear that?” asked Joshua.
Conrad shook his head.
“Banging, maybe,” said Trailer. “Like someone’s building something.”
“We know it’s not a gallows,” said Conrad. “They don’t bother with them here in Huntsville.”
Walking further south, they passed through old neighborhoods with stately homes surrounded by abandoned cars and unkempt lawns. By starts and stops, they tried to vector in on the sound and climbed steadily upwards until they eventually found themselves on a small hill overlooking the city. The Tennessee River wound in a lazy curve to the south. There were several children and old men sitting on the hill as well, all looking east towards the sounds.
Below them was a large fenced-in area delineated as much from the surrounding city by its barriers as its orderliness. Neat uniform buildings sat between roads unclogged by abandoned vehicles. The people they could see moved with purpose and not slowly. There were an unusual amount of uniformed personnel.
“Hey, old timer,” said Trailer to a black man sitting in a lawn chair. “What is that place?”
The man shielding his eyes looked up at Trailer. “That’s Redstone Arsenal, treetop. Used to work there, I did.”
“Yeah? What’d you do?”
“Drove a forklift mostly, but it was one of those big ones. Had to be to pick up those thruster parts.”
“Thruster parts?” asked Joshua.
The old man looked at Joshua. “Yeah, like for rockets. Nearly every rocket NASA sent out of this atmosphere was either designed or built right here. Same for the military.”
“What are they building down there now?” Conrad asked, looking at a group near a large concrete pad.
“Hard to say for certain,” said the old man. “They’re assembling it in pieces, but it’s obviously too small to be one of the big Atlas or Deltas. I’d guess one of the smaller Minotaurs or Falcons.”
“Are we talking rockets?” asked Joshua.
The old man turned to look at him again. “Hell yes we’re talking rockets. Did you think we came up here to see them assemble sewer pipes?”
“Are you sure?” asked Trailer. “That could be anything down there.”
The old man chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve helped assemble rockets for forty years.”
“What would a Minotaur or the other type of rocket you named carry?” asked Conrad.
“Falcon,” said the old man. “They’re smaller, newer, less expensive rockets. Mostly to put satellites into orbit.”
“Why would someone want to do that?” asked Joshua.
“Course it could also be used like a SCUD missile,” the old man said. “Maybe do a little pre-emptive strike on those bastards in the JP. They’re going to hit us if we don’t take care of them first
.”
The three men looked at each other before turning again to the old man.
“Let’s say it was used as a SCUD,” Joshua asked. “How accurate would it be?”
“With a GPS on board?” the old man laughed. “They could put it right up your ass as long as you stand still and we get the right grid coordinates. Those GPS satellites are still orbiting up there you know. The satellite telemetry is likely off a little without constant adjustment, but not enough to really matter.”
“I think maybe we need to go,” said Conrad. “Probably seen all we need to see, wouldn’t you say?”
Joshua nodded.
“Don’t sit up here until you burn, old man,” Trailer said as they walked away.
“Screw you. I’m going to stay here and watch another launch. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Joshua turned back. “Excuse me. How long does it take to prep one of those rockets for launch?”
The old man shrugged. “Before, you could get it ready in a week to ten days. But that was with heavy machinery. There also used to be mountains of bureaucratic mandated safety procedures, so if they ignore those…who knows?”
They made their way back north away from the sounds of the rocket construction.
“We have to destroy it,” said Joshua. “Do it now before they can complete the rocket.”
“I’m not a soldier like you folks,” said Trailer, “but that sounds really dumb.”
“For once, I have to agree,” said Conrad. “There’s obviously tight security and there’s just three of us. Maybe if we could get mortars onto that hill we could hit it, but how would you manage that?”
“And who’s to say they wouldn’t just build another rocket?” Trailer said.
Conrad nodded at Trailer. “Another good point, you’re bating a thousand right now.”
“But what if they have something bad?” said Joshua. “What if they have a nuke or chemical weapons or something like that?”
“Now where would they get such a thing?”
“Milan,” answered Joshua. “My father told me that’s where the nuke that destroyed Fulton came from.” Joshua closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s why Huntsville hit Milan in the first place, I bet. Vincent Lacert would have known about the nukes as well. He snuck one north to take out the dam, after all.”
“Good reasons for us to get out of here quickly before we’re all sharing a lamp post,” said Conrad. “I agree something needs to be done, but we need help.”
“First, we have to get out of here,” said Trailer.
“Is that going to be a problem?” asked Joshua.
“Maybe. We did come to find work and it seems odd we would leave so soon, even if we didn’t find it.” Trailer thought. “We’ll need to go out a different way at least, so we don’t hit the same guards. A different story as well.”
“It might be too late for that,” said Conrad.
“What do you mean?” asked Joshua.
Conrad pointed back towards the hill they had just walked down. Now the old man they had met was talking to two men in uniform with guns. The old man was pointing in their direction.
“Okay,” said Trailer, walking away from the hill quickly. “Escape plan B.”
The two fell in beside him.
“What’s escape plan B?” asked Joshua.
“Get out of here and hope we don’t get caught,” said Trailer.
They did and…they did.
Chapter 9 – Radio Link
Nathan made his way up to Kentucky Dam as quickly as he could. John Downing had sounded positively agitated and that was saying something. The former TVA director turned Kentucky Dam Nanny-in-Chief was not what anyone would consider emotional.
John had told him that Simon was doing something on the top of the dam involving communications. He wanted to know if Nathan wanted John to have the security elements stop him. John had sounded hopeful when he suggested this.
“Just hold on,” Nathan said. “I’ll be up there as fast as he can.”
“Okay, but realize he’s just going to keep on doing what he’s doing until you get here.”
“How much damage can he really do to a two million-ton concrete structure?”
“You’d be surprised,” John said. “Most of the weight is at the bottom; it’s relatively vulnerable up top.”
“John,” said Nathan, growing exasperated, “if you think Simon is going to destroy the dam with his monkeying around before I get up there, you are authorized to stop him by any means necessary.”
“Got it,” said John, sounding satisfied.
Nathan had an idea what Simon was up to, but since Nathan didn’t really know Simon, he thought maybe it prudent to see just exactly what he was doing. Besides, he hadn’t been to the dam in a while and River appeared to be asleep for the rest of the afternoon. She saved most of her wakefulness for the hours between midnight and dawn.
He stifled a yawn and returned a soldier’s salute as he strode across the top of the dam’s surface. He could already tell what John wanted him to see. Simon had climbed nearly fifty feet up into the air where he had attached himself to a tall metal lighting tower. Below him, Jessica was passing him pieces of equipment back and forth using a tow rope. Projecting up above Simon’s head for about five meters was a series of long metal rods with plastic metal bulbs on them that Nathan knew from his time in the military meant it was a radio antenna array.
John Downing stood around the area pacing and looking up at Simon. “He’s going to mess something up,” John told Nathan as he walked up.
Wires and cables ran down the lighting tower to the ground, and as he walked up, Simon began his slow and careful descent.
“If you’re trying to get cable television,” said Nathan, “you’re wasting your time.”
Simon frowned. “No. I’m working on setting up communications with Cheyenne Mountain.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Nathan. “More importantly, don’t you think that’s the sort of thing you should have asked someone beforehand if it was okay?”
Simon froze, and it was obvious wheels were turning in his head. “Maybe so,” he finally admitted. “Who should I ask?”
“I would have been a good start,” said Nathan.
“Or me,” said John.”I actually told you to stop.”
“Did you?” asked Simon with what appeared to be genuine confusion.
“He did,” confirmed Jessica.
“What do you plan to tell these people at Cheyenne Mountain?” asked Nathan.
“Give them a general situation report,” said Simon. “They’re on the same side as we are, after all. It’s possible we could all help each other.”
Nathan grunted, non-committal.
“Anyway, I’ve set up the radio, transmitter, and encryption module downstairs to keep it out of the elements,” said Simon. “Want to send a message?”
“I don’t know Morse Code,” muttered Nathan.
Simon looked away sheepishly. “This will be an encrypted voice link channel assigned specifically for Site Conway.”
“Voice link?” asked Nathan. “I thought you only had Morse Code capability.”
“That’s what I wanted everyone to think,” said Simon. “Lewis was always such a control freak and hovered over everything, even in Morse Code. If it were voice, he would have been insufferable. Besides, voice would have allowed those guys at Cheyenne Mountain to tell us more quickly stuff to do.”
Nathan smiled. “I’m impressed. You sandbagged your capabilities to control the situation.”
“I guess so,” answered Simon. “So, do we send a message? Do you want to talk to them?”
Nathan paused and thought for a minute. He certainly didn’t intend to allow these shadowy remnants of a demolished nation to exercise any control over the JP. On the other hand, they might be able to share useful information with each other, and information, especially now, was power.
“Let’s try it,” said N
athan. “They might not even answer, but take my lead. If I say kill the transmission, it’s over.”
Simon nodded and hooked a few final cables to each other before walking purposefully down several flights of stairs. Nathan, John, and Jessica followed.
They went into a small room that had previously been a closet. A metal conduit pipe had been cut open to allow cables to run from the room upwards.
“What did you do?” asked John, aghast.
“It’s just an air conduit,” said Simon. “No need to worry.”
John looked at Nathan, stunned. “Do you see what he did?”
“Perhaps you should take care of other things right now,” said Nathan. “I’ve got this, I think.”
John shook his head, threw both hands up in the air, and stormed off.
Simon turned to a large piece of communications equipment and hit several power switches. He then punched a long series of numbers from a small book into what Nathan presumed was the encryption module. After a few seconds, the spinning lines all stopped and faced the same direction.
“I think we’re good to go,” said Simon, adjusting the speaker and microphone.
“Control, this is Site Conway,” said Simon. “Do you read me?”
Static.
Simon repeated his message.
No answer.
“Who knows if they’re monitoring this channel?” asked Nathan. “You said each site had its own assigned frequency?”
Simon nodded while staring at the transmitter worriedly.
“Well,” sighed Nathan, “if they thought your voice encryption didn’t work, which they would since you only used Morse Code, they might have taken that frequency off the network.”
“Control, this is Site Conway,” said Simon. “Do you read me?”
There was a break in the static. “Authenticate, Site Conway,” came a young sounding voice.
Simon remembered his five-digit code. “I authenticate: 3-8-6-7-6.”
“Authentication confirmed,” replied the voice. There was then a long pause as if the person at the other end didn’t know what to say. “How you doing?”
“Swell,” said Simon. “We were directed several weeks ago to conduct a recon near the western Tennessee-Kentucky border. I’d like to provide a report.”
