“That’s not unusual is it?” Dyer asked. “Wouldn’t we expect them to target our military assets first?”
“Exactly, sir. They aren’t targeting the bases first. They don’t seem to know where our assets are. Their fighters fly solo in a general area. Some of them just patrol, others strafe civilian buildings. When they receive fire though it attracts their attention.”
“And that’s when they organize for an assault?” President Dyer inquired.
“Not exactly, sir,” continued the Air Force general. “They don’t really seem to have structure or organization. It’s more like they all race to the military target once it’s located. There’s no strategy behind their actions. They just attack in swarms. Unfortunately, there’s so many of them that a lot of the smaller installations are simply overwhelmed.”
“With the number of enemy spaceships you’re talking about… how are any of our bases still operational?” Dyer questioned.
“It’s still early, but our initial estimates show an air to air kill ratio of fifteen to one,” the general said with a swelling of pride in his voice.
“We lose fifteen planes for every one enemy shot down?” Dyer asked. He expected the casualties to be higher than that, but he had no idea how the general’s response answered his original question.
“No, sir. They lose fifteen for every one of our planes shot down. The ratio is lots higher if you count all the kills from SAM sites and antiaircraft artillery. There are lots of them when they attack, but they don’t have any strategy. To be honest they’re pretty easy to knock down both ground-to-air and air-to-air. Our pilots can literally fly circles around them,” the general responded. He was proud of what he considered to be his pilots. With a glance over to the Navy chief of staff he deflated slightly. Not everyone was having such an impressive day.
“What about on the ground?” Dyer asked, turning to the Army chief of staff.
“Exactly the same,” the general responded. “They have no organization, and they attack in swarms when they run encounter a military unit. They’re smaller than us, they’re weaker than us and they’re slower than us. They’re not just slow to move either, they’re also slow to react,” the general explained. He looked down at a sheet of paper on which he had scribbled notes. “They’re lightly armed. Their DEW’s are impressive but certainly not much more advanced than what we’ve developed. Plus they’re short range weapons too. They’re more like a pistol than an assault rifle. Our Bradley fighting vehicles are barely scratched by their weapons, and they’re totally useless against an Abrams tank. They have no tanks, no antiaircraft missiles, no mortars, no artillery… hell they don’t even have machine guns. The Army and Marine,” the general paused briefly and nodded towards the Marine Corps chief of staff out of courtesy. “Units that engage the enemy do so with overwhelming superiority. Of course our main problem is the size of our own army. They’re landing all over the country, and we can only be so many places at once.”
“What about their ships?” asked Dyer.
“They have heavier directed energy weapons than their infantry does. They can chew up a tank pretty easily but only if they happen across it. They aren’t big on close air support. It’s almost as if their air force and their infantry work completely independently of one another,” the Army chief of staff answered.
“I have to admit I didn’t expect this much good news,” Dyer said. “Except for…” he trailed off as he looked towards the Navy chief of staff.
“Even given the destruction most of our losses have come at sea,” the admiral admitted. “Most of the ships in port are undamaged. All the submarines that are deployed haven’t been hit yet either. We don’t know if the aliens can’t see them or if—”
“They can’t hit them,” the Air Force general concluded the thought. “Their energy weapons dissipate when they hit the water.”
“What about the rest of the world?” Dyer asked, turning towards the Secretary of Defense. “Are they getting hit as hard as we are?”
“Communications have been difficult, but reliable sources indicate that China and India are getting hit worse than we are,” the Secretary of Defense answered.
“Why the hell would they focus on them?” Dyer asked. “China’s expanding its military, but it’s still nothing compared to…” Dyer trailed off as he realized what China and India had in common. “They’re attacking the places with the greatest population?” he asked rhetorically.
The Secretary of Defense nodded his head affirmatively.
Dyer stood up and leaned against the Situation Room’s table. He took a moment and surveyed the faces of his advisors. “Does this make sense to anyone?” he finally asked with a tone of utter confusion.
“Sir?” the Secretary of Defense inquired.
“Why haven’t we been brushed aside? Think about the wars we’ve fought since the turn of the century. Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran all collapsed within a matter of hours against our military. The disparity between us and them can be measured in decades. These guys,” he said as he motioned towards the ceiling in order to indicate the alien fleet that was in orbit. “Have traveled through space to attack us. The disparity between us and them can probably be measured in centuries. Yet from what everyone in this room is telling me, we’re winning.”
The Army chief of staff nodded in agreement. “No organization and no strategy. They just swarmed over the entire planet. I’ve been studying military history my entire life, and I can honestly say that this is the worst invasion I have ever seen.”
“I think we need to start worrying about what happens if their invasion fails.” the Air Force chief of staff said. “There’s still a nice big fleet up there. Militarily boneheaded or not, they have to have the capabilities to destroy us from orbit.”
Dyer nodded his head in understanding of what the general was suggesting. “Are our ICBM’s secure?”
The general nodded. “Most of our land-based nuclear arsenal is not currently threatened. The aliens are after our population centers, and the missiles are out in the middle of nowhere.”
“What about the Russians and the Chinese? Should we coordinate with them?” Dyer suggested.
“Sir, I think such an attack might be premature,” the Marine general spoke up. “We still know very little about the aliens. A nuclear strike is a huge escalation that could have unforeseen consequences.”
“And if we wait to launch the strike we may give them the opportunity to level the entire planet from orbit!” the Air Force general angrily countered.
“Where are we on communication with the aliens?” Dyer asked, ignoring the unfriendly looks being exchanged between the two generals.
“We’re transmitting greetings at the fleet in fifty-five languages. There has been no acknowledgement of any of our transmissions,” replied the Secretary of Defense.
“They’re aliens. If they don’t speak English what good do you think using Esperanto is going to do?” the Air Force general mocked.
“That’s what the team of scientists who consulted on the Alien Contact Contingency Plan suggested we do. So that’s what we’re doing,” the Secretary of Defense calmly replied. “We’re also sending a mathematical primer. Now I’m not really clear on what it is, but apparently it involves trying to use math symbols to create a language that both species can…” he trailed off as Dyer raised his hand.
“Yeah, my wife made me watch Contact,” Dyer said. “I just hope you’ve got better ideas than what Hollywood can come up with in that plan.”
The Air Force chief of staff shook his head in disgust.
“What about the alien soldiers we’ve captured?” inquired President Dyer.
“We’ve only captured a handful,” replied the Army chief of staff.
“That’s surprising given the size of the conflict isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. The problem is twofold. First, there are the obvious cultural difficulties. Our soldiers don’t know how to demand surrender in Alienese. Also we don�
��t know their mannerisms. Any human on the planet would raise his hands to indicate surrender. We have no idea how the aliens indicate surrender though. It could be a gesture we consider to be hostile. In addition to that, my field commanders are reporting that the aliens seem reluctant to give up. Even when cornered they are more likely to fight to the death.”
“And the ones you have captured?” the President prodded.
“They’re mostly wounded so badly that they could no longer fight. The surgeons do their best, but they aren’t entomologists. The alien physiology is just too different from our own,” replied the general.
President Dyer turned to his chief of staff. “We should assemble a team of linguists now for when we do capture one of them in good condition. It may take a while given the chaos.”
Bill Shephard nodded his head and reached for a phone to execute the president’s order. As he was waiting to place the connection he noticed the clock on the wall. “It’s almost time for your address, Mr. President.”
The President glanced at the clock and nodded his head. “Anyone know if the media is still on the air?” Dyer asked.
The joint chiefs and the Secretary of Defense had, of course, been rather busy of late. As they all shook their heads a young woman wearing the rank of an Army lieutenant stepped forward.
“Most still are, Mr. President,” she said nervously. She had been in the same room with Dyer on more than one occasion, but she had never spoken to him directly. “Fox News and ABC are both showing dead air. CBS, NBC, MSNBC, CNN and BBC America are all still broadcasting. The national emergency broadcasting station is still active as well.”
“Thank you, lieutenant” Dyer said. He turned back towards the men who were seated at the table. “Are we in agreement with the text of the speech?”
There were nods and mumbles of approval from everyone at the table.
Dyer looked down at his copy of the speech and snorted. “I can’t believe they came up with this so quickly.”
“The Director of Communications and her staff seem to work better under pressure,” Bill agreed with a smile.
“I’ll have to remember to have people shooting at them while they’re working on next year’s State of the Union,” Dyer joked. After a second he thought about what he had just said and continued with a more serious tone. “They’re all safe, right?”
“Yes, Mr. President. All your non-essential staffers have been shuffled into the basement. They’re a little cramped, but they’re fine.”
The President nodded as he moved away from the table of the Situation Room. This time the other men at the table stood to show their respect. Dyer walked out of the Situation Room and into the hallway followed by Bill Shephard.
A podium and camera had been set up in the hallway. Dyer moved behind the podium and straightened his tie. Typically there would be someone to do his makeup and hair before an address to the nation. He worried briefly that his disheveled look would demoralize his constituents. Behind him was the plain white wall of the hallway. Some aides had tried to hang a Seal of the President of the United States behind the podium. After three attempts to hang it straight they had given up. Bare wall would have to do as a backdrop.
“Thirty seconds, Mr. President,” the man behind the camera said.
Dyer nodded his head and looked down at his copy of the speech. He suddenly felt a twinge of anxiety. It had been a long time since he had given a speech without the help of a teleprompter.
“Five… four… three,” the cameraman said. He went silent and used his fingers to indicate the last two numbers. After “one” he pointed his index finger at President Dyer.
“My fellow Americans, good afternoon. I come before you tonight to address the most fantastic event in all of human history. The question of whether there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe has been answered. The answer came with a series of resounding booms as that life penetrated our planet’s atmosphere in its quest to invade this country and this Earth. This surprise attack was cowardly, unwarranted and it has been met with absolute resistance by the brave men and women of the United States military. I speak to you tonight from the White House where I am coordinating the defensive effort against the alien attack force. At this point we still have more questions than answers. We do not know who these creatures are or what they want. We do not know where they came from or why they chose our planet to attack. There is one thing I know for sure though. The United States of America will prevail against this aggression. We will rid this country of its invaders, and then we will help to rid the world of them.
This is a situation that no American has had to face since the Revolution. We are not fighting the enemy on the other side of the ocean. They have landed across our great nation and touched the lives of every single American. Let there be no mistake, this is war. This is a war on a scale which the world has never seen. The military is engaging this enemy with unrelenting force, but it cannot win this fight alone. I call on all able-bodied Americans to stand up against this aggression. Rise up as one and defend this proud nation of ours. Organize with your neighbors and take the fight to the enemy. This country was founded by citizen soldiers, and it will be saved by them!
The United States of America has always been a beacon for hope and freedom. Only together can we preserve this great union. Only together can we overcome this greatest of threats to our way of life. May God bless you, and may God continue to bless the United States of America.”
The red light on the camera went dark. “We’re clear, Mr. President,” the cameraman said.
Dyer walked out from behind the podium. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked back towards the entrance of the Situation Room. His chief of staff was leaning against the wall. He wore an approving expression on his face.
“Congratulations. I think it went very well, Mr. President,” Bill said. While he was a long time friend and political ally of Dyer’s, Bill Shephard always preferred to speak very formally with him.
“Thanks,” Dyer said while beginning to relax. “Not every day you tell civilians to form local militias,” he said with an uneasy tone. He still had reservations about the call to arms.
Bill shook his head dismissively. “It’s not every day you have to defend the country from tens of millions of space invaders.”
“I suppose not.”
The two were interrupted as the Secretary of Defense approached the entrance from inside the Situation Room. “We’re going to need a decision on the nuclear option sooner rather than later,” he said, handing Dyer a piece of paper.
Dyer read the note quickly. “Sonvabitch!”
“What is it?” Bill asked.
“The Chinese ambassador just relayed a message to us. He has been nice enough to inform us that they will be launching a missile strike against the alien fleet in a little under four hours,” Dyer responded contemptuously.
“That’s big of them,” Bill agreed. “Will they be launching both of their ICBM’s?”
“They’ve got about forty, but you’re certainly on the right track,” the Secretary of Defense said. “They’ve got a fraction of the arsenal that we and the Russians have, but now they get to dictate the strike.”
“And if we don’t go along then we lose the element of surprise when we do decide to launch a missile strike,” Dyer agreed. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair.
“Do we try to talk them down from it?” Bill asked after a moment.
Dyer shook his head. “No, they’re already committed,” he said. He turned towards the Secretary of Defense. “Prepare a joint strike on the alien fleet. Use eighty percent of the ICBM’s. There’s no reason to do this half-assed, but I still want a reserve left for deterrence. Coordinate with the Chinese and the Russians.”
The Secretary of Defense nodded his head. He turned back inside the Situation Room to make the preparations.
Mervny awoke groggily on a table in the Amunds
en-Scott South Pole Station. As his eyes opened he could see little more than two gigantic heads. He had seen a picture of New Mortair’s native inhabitants before leaving, but it had not done the primates justice. They were huge creatures who looked much different from anything he had seen back on Mortair. They were different than anything he had seen on any other planet for that matter. Mervny tried to recoil away from the tremendous aliens. Powerful hands grabbed him on either side of the neck and prevented him from moving. Mervny tried desperately to turn his neck to look behind him but it was no use. Terrified, he did the one thing that no member of his species had done in quite some time. He crossed his forearms in an X shape in front of his body and lowered his head. It was the Kessiam sign of surrender.
The biologist behind Mervny cautiously released his hands from the Kessiam’s neck as the alien went limp. He looked up at Jerry and Shawn in puzzlement. “What do you think that means?”
“Looks like a submissive gesture to me,” Shawn said, still staring down at the fascinating creature. “The alien equivalent of saying: Don’t kill me!”
“We don’t know it’s an alien,” the biologist responded. “You’re a scientist dammit, you should know better than to jump to conclusions.”
“What the hell else would it be?” Shawn asked, amused by the biologist’s comment. “A giant bug from the south pole that no one has ever discovered before? One that can’t stand the cold, wears clothes and has the ability to manufacture the little metal ship we found outside?”
“I’m just saying it might be—” the biologist was cut off by one of the other scientists returning to the room.
“It’s an alien,” the scientist said, having not heard the conversation that preceded his entrance. “I just got off the radio with McMurdo Station. Nothing landed there but apparently the whole rest of the planet is crawling with these little guys. They’ve got a fleet of three thousand ships in orbit. It’s a full scale invasion.”
The Unlikely Defenders Page 15
