Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone

by T. R. Harris

  “Someone’s been able to activate the combat drones in the RDC bunkers in the downtown D.C. area. These units are in the air and preparing to attack.”

  “By someone, I suppose you mean Almasi?”

  “I would assume, Mr. President.”

  “But I thought the attacks had essentially ended. That’s the word we got from Beijing, and by our own count. The volume of attacks is down ninety percent over the last six hours.”

  “Obviously the pressure Colleen Hoover suggested the Chinese exert on their puppet states had the desired trickle-down effect. That’s the reason for the sudden drop off in drone strikes. But now it looks like Almasi has found a way to carry on without his coalition.”

  “By using our own drones against us.”

  “Not all of them, sir. Nathan Hall at DARPA is reporting they can neutralize the autonomous drones with a new jamming signal they’ve developed. But that still leaves the piloted drones to contend with.”

  “How many of those does he have access to?”

  Monroe looked to Alice Grimes from the answer. “Nationwide, there are over three thousand RPAs—remotely-piloted aircraft—”

  “Three thousand!”

  “But he doesn’t have access to all of those, not anymore.”

  “Why not?” asked Owen Murphy, speaking for the first time.

  “We’ve been systematically barricading the exits to hundreds of rapid-response bunkers. Even then, Almasi—we assume its Almasi at the controls—is blowing up the inventory of drones in these bunkers. He can’t use them, and neither can we.”

  “So what’s about to hit D.C.?” the president asked.

  “These are the RPA units that got out of the local bunkers before we could do anything about it.”

  “How many are we talking about?”

  “A couple of hundred were activated. We’re not quite sure how many he has under his direct control.”

  “Would two hundred RPA drones require two hundred operators?” Jack Monroe asked Alice Grimes.

  “Exactly, and we don’t have any idea how many pilots he has at his disposal to know how many are being sent against us.”

  “What about other defenses, the White House drone force, for instance?” Ortega asked.

  “Already deploying, but we only have fourteen pilots on duty at this time.”

  “Countermeasures?”

  “Basic. But, sir, the incoming drones are the top-of-the-line RDC drones. They’re every bit the match—if not more—for the UAVs in the Secret Service arsenal.”

  Ortega was already seated, otherwise he would have fallen down when the implications of what he was being told suddenly dawned on him. He had trouble collecting his breath, but finally he was able to mutter, “So there’s nothing that can stop them? The drones are going to hit the very heart of the nation’s capital.”

  ********

  The relatively weak defensive force provided by the Secret Service drones rose up into the cold December air just as the sun was setting on the fourth day of the national crisis. They didn’t last long, overwhelmed by the sheer number of combat drones sent against them. Now the attackers spread out, with over one hundred independently-controlled killer drones hitting at will the seemingly inexhaustible supply of national monuments, symbols, and buildings in this part of the city.

  Some saturated with missiles and bullets the large glass facades of the nine museums of the Smithsonian Institution that lined the Mall, while another group sent tiny yet powerful rockets into the base of the Washington Monument. Seconds later, the iconic obelisk toppled over and crashed to the ground in a thunderous cloud of concrete dust. The debris field scattered across the Ellipse, pointing directly at the south lawn of the White House.

  With no viable defense protecting the White House, even the lasers and drone Tasers were overwhelmed by the number of attackers. The entire south face of the White House was soon saturated with missiles and gunfire. In the meantime, other drones concentrated on the huge dome of the Capitol Building, with some hovering near the structure while they triggered the ubiquitous explosive charges contained in all RDC drones. The vast dome broke apart in places and crashed inward, leaving ragged cavities in the once majestic structure.

  Now the remote operators steered their deadly charges west over the Reflecting Pool, with gunfire shattering the black granite surface of the Vietnam Memorial, before proceeding above the long series of steps to hover near the seated statue of Abraham Lincoln. Moments later, the most recognized symbol of American civil rights and unity was nothing more than a dusty pile of crumbled masonry.

  Six minutes had passed since the drones had lifted from their bunkers.

  ********

  “Damn you, Nathan!” Xander yelled into his comm. “I thought you said these things were easy to pilot?”

  “Just relax and feel the controls. You’re jerking them all over the place.”

  “It would have been nice to have even a minute of training before heading out on our first mission.”

  Xander and the other five members of Team Alpha were struggling with an impossibly short learning curve as they guided the nearly-invisible Goliath drones towards the battlefield. To the monitors in Hangar One at Andrews, the flight paths of the drones tracked like that of drunken hummingbird, zigging and zagging from side to side while doing their best to maintain a somewhat forward heading.

  Flight time from Andrews to the Capitol Mall was only three minutes, yet by the time Xander got his team into the pods and their birds in the air, the attack was already well underway. Now, as they arrived on-site, the scene revealed in the dim December sunlight was one to bring a tear to any proud American.

  The entire area was a crumbled and burning inferno. From the Capitol, to the White House, to the fallen Washington Monument, nothing was as the postcards portrayed, not anymore. The image of the falling buildings of the World Trade Center was a tragedy, Xander thought, but this was so much worse. This was the capital of the nation, and it now lay in ruin.

  “Incoming!” he heard the voice of Karen Prado cry out, both in his headset, as well as her proximity in the control pod to his right.

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere!”

  Even with the low radar and visual signature of the Goliaths, a few of the RDC octocopters zipping about had nearly collided with a couple of the stealth drones. Reports were made, and a swarm of red, white, and blue painted JEN-Tech Viper III’s began scouring the skies for the elusive defenders.

  “Attack at will,” Xander ordered. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find targets. Let’s clear the air, Alphas!”

  Fully ensconced in the offsite perspective provided by their FPV goggles, the members of Team Alpha broke into individual attack units, with each pilot now having gained a decent feel for their aircraft. Brilliant flashes of light seemed to erupt out of thin air as the .60’s cut loose, rippling into the hardened plastic and fiberglass frames of Vipers. Designed by Billy’s own company to withstand hits from the standard 5mm nylon-jacketed armament, the Vipers—before today, Xander’s preferred combat drone—were no match for the supercharged shells issued forth from the Goliaths. A dozen of the attackers evaporated in the air above the Mall.

  Xander and Billy then set off toward the White House, while the others tracked raiders by the Capitol and the Library of Congress. The White House was just a shell of its former self by now, with half of its structure lying in ruins. There were a dozen or more enemy drones buzzing over the property, firing into the surviving front façade of the building.

  The two Goliaths whipped round the building unseen and unleashed a barrage of killer fire into the hovering drones. The DARPA drones had laser-guided targeting, and it only took a split second to lock onto a dozen hostiles at once. A single press of the trigger took them all out in rapid succession.

  “There’s still over thirty targets surviving,” Nathan’s voice said over the comm. “They appear to have backup units at their disposal, so final assault tally u
nknown. Units now crossing the Potomac heading for the Pentagon.”

  “I’m on it,” Hugh Barden called out.

  “Be careful,” Nathan warned. “They have a couple hundred defensive drones of their own covering the building, and they’ll shoot at anything that comes their way.”

  “Can they defend themselves?” Xander asked.

  “Nine Vipers just slammed into the building and detonated,” Nathan reported, “so I guess not, at least not against suicide drones.”

  “Be on alert, everyone,” Xander ordered. “If they’re willing to sacrifice active units, that means they may have a lot more in reserve. There could be a second wave coming. Nathan, any word on the president?”

  “He’s safe, somewhere below the White House.”

  “Good. Billy and I will head over toward the Smithsonian. What’s the count now?”

  “Thirty or so now remaining, even though it’s now confirmed we’re picking up sporadic late entries to the party. Probably been hiding on the ground somewhere.”

  Xander caught sight of six enemy drones soaring over the Air and Space Museum, releasing a line of missile fire as they did. Xander lined up on them and pressed the trigger. Half of the drones shattered, and it was almost comical to watch the survivors pull up and begin spinning around looking for the source of the incoming fire. Two of them were looking straight in Xander’s direction when he opened fire again.

  Xander could imagine that in a secret and secluded control room located somewhere halfway around the world, a group of bewildered drone pilots were scratching their heads, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Unfortunately, their confusion didn’t last long, as each of the enemy pilots linked with another six reserve drones and rejoined the battle.

  “Team Bravo now on station,” a deep, masculine voice boomed over the comm. Xander didn’t recognize the voice.

  “Team Bravo?” he questioned.

  “Well, you guys have Alpha copyrighted. Major Jim Lyle, USAF, reporting for duty.”

  Xander lifted the goggles from his head and looked around the huge hangar. Four more of the pods were now occupied by men in uniform. One of them sent him a crisp salute.

  “Four more Goliaths just in from Hampton Roads,” the major reported. “We’re some of the test pilots for the G’s. We’ve been sitting around in the back just twiddling our thumbs with nothing to do—until now. So is there a uniform defense strategy or are we free-balling it?”

  “Welcome to the party, Major. Free-balling. The enemy forces are spread all over the place, hitting whatever targets of opportunity they can find. Feel free to chalk up as many kills as you can.”

  “Roger that. Engaging.”

  In less than five minutes, Xander was soaring high above the battlefield, looking for stray targets to strike. There didn’t seem to be any left.

  “The air is clear, at least above D.C.,” Nathan Hall reported. “Return to base for recharging and reassignment. We’re getting reports of RDC drones hitting New York. We have half a dozen Goliaths in the area, so it looks like it could be a long night.”

  It was always a strange sensation for Xander when he removed the FPV goggles after a particularly intense battle. From being completely absorbed in combat at the site, to suddenly sitting in a comfortable leather chair in a modestly quiet and relatively peaceful command center was always a jarring experience. The Goliaths were programmed with a return-to-origin function, so he and the other members of Team Alpha didn’t even have to wait for their Goliaths to return to Andrews before they suddenly found themselves ripping through the glass and steel canyons of New York City, chasing yet another swarm of enemy drones.

  Although it wasn’t completely dark yet, power had been cut to the city to reduce the chance of electrical fires and to make the forest of buildings that much harder to navigate, especially for pilots located on the other side of the planet.

  Almost immediately, the Alphas were fed targeting information, and the battle was joined.

  The city had already been hard hit over the past couple of days, with most of its residents having already evacuated or hidden away within the thousands of massive buildings. This new fight soon escalated into a high-speed game of cat and mouse, as the RDC Vipers, under control by Almasi’s pilots—many of which had just been laying waste in Washington, D.C.—had learned that there was a stealth presence out stalking them. And when a number of their sister units began to be blown apart from unseen machine gun and missile fire, the pilots elected to run rather than stand and fight.

  Unfortunately, Xander realized too late where most of them were running to.

  “Can anyone get there first?” he shouted into the comm.

  “I’m out of position, up near Central Park,” Curt Tharp reported.

  “I’m close, near the Tunnel, but they’re thirty seconds ahead.”

  “Dammit, we can’t let this happen.”

  Xander gunned his Goliath and soared out toward South Manhattan. As he shot out over the water, the huge, iconic Statue of Liberty suddenly erupted in a halo of tiny explosions. The copper and steel figure began to bend forward at the waist, even as the long arm holding the perpetual flame of freedom broke away and fell to the ground of Liberty Island.

  By the time Xander arrived, there were no enemy drones to shoot. They had all plowed into the statue while simultaneously exploding. He felt weak and impotent as he hovered near the deformed, green-tinted statue. She hadn’t fallen, but she was badly damaged, just another entry on the long list of shattered symbols of America that had suffered at the hands of Abdul-Shahid Almasi … and Jonas Lemon.

  Soon the other five members of Team Alpha were also in the air above the Statue of Liberty. No one said a word for a full minute.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Nathan’s voice said softly. “I just thought you’d like to know that we’re getting only a few reports of escaping RDC drones leaving the other bunkers, but nothing large scale. We’ve been able to shutter most of them. So now Almasi has started detonating the explosives on the trapped RPAs in the bunkers. I’m commanding the New York Goliaths to return to their local base. The rest of you can take a well-deserved break. I’ll use Major Lyle’s pilots for any of the mop up work. Great job … all of you.”

  “Great job?” Karen’s voice rose up over the comm. “Just about everything that identifies with American greatness has been destroyed, and we did very little to stop it.”

  “It could’ve been worse,” Nathan offered.

  “That’s what they always say,” Xander whispered, yet loud enough for everyone could hear. “And the sad part about it, they’re right.”

  Chapter 23

  After the attacks on Washington and New York, Almasi returned to his combination office and living quarters to analyze what had happened. He didn’t have much time alone before the obnoxious Russian general, Nikolay Burkov, entered without knocking or invitation.

  “There are some disturbing occurrences taking place in America, Abdul-Shahid. Would you care to share with me what you know of these?”

  Almasi watched with wide, manic eyes as the fat Russian officer took a seat in front of his desk and returned the unblinking stare with one of his own. “Seeing that you enter here without invitation, and then make a statement without details, you will have to be a little more specific as to what occurrences you speak of.”

  “First of all, I have been monitoring the frequency of the attacks, and they appeared to have ceased completely, except for the botched activities I just witnesses.”

  “Botched? You call that botched?” In a violent fit, Almasi picked up the remote control on the desk and turned on the T.V. sitting on a credenza to his right. Even without the sound turned up, it was clear from the shots of burning iconic buildings and ruined national monuments that something tragic had just taken place in America’s capital. “Look, the White House is in ruins, the Washington Monument has fallen, the Statue of Liberty is a twisted and armless relic. And yet you call tha
t botched. I call it a success!”

  “Even in the presence of stealth drones you knew nothing about? We have invested a lot in you, Abdul-Shahid, including your ability to keep your coalition together. That appears not to be the case.”

  “Don’t blame me for that. China is the reason Korea and Iran have forced my allies to abandon us. Even so, the damage caused to the infidels up to this point should be adequate to meet your goals. And now, with the images of a shattered White House and Capitol Building to haunt the Americans, I cannot see them returning to their normal lives any time soon. You will have your economic collapse, just as I promised.”

  The huge Russian grunted. “Perception is everything to the Americans, you should know this, Almasi. It is clear now that future attacks will subside, and that there is a new secret weapon to be deployed against the ones that do take place. Now that we are aware of their existence, we have tracked the returning stealth drones to Andrews Air Force Base, where they will surely be revealed to the public as the ultimate safeguard against future attacks. Whether right or wrong, the government will offer up as proof the inevitable decline in your drone attacks. Ortega and his people will put all their efforts into advertising this fact, and with time still left for the population to regain confidence and a feeling of security—even in light of the damage you have caused over the past few days.”

  “Bullshit! The Americans are traumatized and scared. It will be a long time before they recover.”

  Burkov shook his head. “Have you not learned anything from the past? All you have to do is look to the attacks of September eleventh to see that the Americans are more resilient—and resistant—than you give them credit for. And when the motive behind the recent crisis is revealed, do not be surprised to see the American people rise up in protest to our goals just to spite us. I will grant you that the economy of the Western world has been hurt, but not fatally.”