Uprising

by Chris Harris

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  Texas

  Sitting in front of the radio, Madeline was talking to General Welch. “I appreciate your concerns, General, but I will not leave the country and hide across the border. What message will that give to the American people if the first thing I do is to run away?”

  “Madam President, your safety is of the utmost concern. We cannot risk you falling into enemy hands again.”

  “General, I agree,” she said emphatically. “Currently I am being protected by hundreds of armed Americans and a brigade of Russian paratroopers. I am safe enough for now. General Liu on the other hand needs to be moved to somewhere where he can be of greater assistance to us. He is a proud man who feels his country is being betrayed by its leadership. If we handle it right, I believe he could play a key role in changing the regime and ending this before it’s too late.”

  “Too late, Madam President? We are already at war and fighting for our very existence. I am not sure how much worse it can get.”

  “General, the world is watching and waiting. How much longer before other countries start to look toward a weaker neighbor now that the United States is not able to fulfil its role as the world’s policeman? We are at war, but we must try to stop this escalating, because if it does, I fear the world will be on the brink.”

  “I understand. The planning with the Russians, British, and Canadians is almost complete. Can I at least recommend we recover you to Cheyenne Mountain? You will be secure here and it will be easier for you to communicate and oversee the operations.”

  “General, I am no military leader; you are. It is your job to formulate and propose your plans to me for approval. I do not need to be sitting at your side to do that. Find me somewhere where I can do my job and help rally and lead the American people to victory. And as for communication, are you telling me we do not have the means for me to talk to someone from anywhere on the planet? General, find me a place and the equipment and get back to me with your recommendations.”

  Putting the receiver down she turned to Sebastian. “What do you suggest we do?”

  “Madam President, as I have already told you, we are not sure how effective our radio encryption is. We have intelligence to suggest the Chinese can break in and track our comms. We need to move now and return to base.”

  For security, a remote broadcasting location had been set up at another property ten miles from the ranch deep in the Texas countryside. Madeline had been escorted there by Sebastian and a strong contingent of both Russian paratroopers and American militia members. “Sebastian, that is not what I meant.”

  “Madam President, I know. But for now, my primary concern is your safety so if we could please get moving.”

  Outside, the hundreds of Russians and Americans who had accompanied her as her personal guard boarded the fleet of SUVs and pickup trucks and, with Madeline in the center vehicle, the convoy sped back to the ranch. Thirty seconds after leaving the property the driver without warning swerved the car off the road and shouted. Sebastian without thinking threw himself across the president, shielding her body with his, and screamed at the driver to keep going.

  The boom of an explosion washed over the car now hurtling down the road. Sebastian uncovered the president from the footwell and helped her back to the seat. She looked through the back window at a house which was now burning fiercely.

  “It’s as I feared, Madam President. That missile locked in on the radio signal we were emitting; we are going to have to be more inventive on how we communicate from now on. The Chinese are far from defeated.”

  Shocked from the near miss, Madeline sat thinking before she spoke. “Or we find and destroy wherever the missile was launched from. If every time we turn on a radio we fear a missile, then this burgeoning movement will fail. Without communication and coordination, we will just be small groups fighting locally and individually until our numbers are so eroded by the Chinese we will become ineffective. The only route to beating them is coordinating a national offensive and striking them where it hurts. That way we will wear away their capabilities until the balance swings on our favor.”

  Sebastian looked at the president. “Madam President,” he said with deep respect, “I just heard you tell the general you are no military leader. You were wrong. I agree, this threat is new, and we must counter it immediately.”

  They were both correct. The Chinese were beginning to deploy their latest Direction-Finding Counter Insurgency missile batteries around the country. These small, vehicle-portable weapons were another asset they had developed in secret away from the world’s view.

  Completely automated and independent, each battery, once in location, needed no human input other than to be protected by squads of soldiers who would reload it once its original complement of small hypersonic short-range missiles was depleted.

  Its advanced computer system was overseen by operatives in Beijing. A network of small satellites launched into orbit under the guise of commercial communication and navigation units looked down over the United States. Each region where they were deployed had a relay station which linked all the launchers into the main system.

  Capable of intercepting all radio and telecommunication signals, its programming interpreted and deciphered each intercept, deciding in milliseconds if it posed a threat. It was currently set to intercept and identify all signals, but to only treat those that were encrypted or short burst as a target of interest.

  Ham radio operators all over the country were communicating with each other; they were the backbone of the resistances’ means of communication. These conversations were being recorded and sent to analysts to interpret and use the intelligence gained to help the efforts to destroy all threats to the Chinese mission of conquest. At the stroke of a key, missiles would rain down on their locations.

  The one drawback of this highly advanced system was that its portability meant the missiles were small and limited to a twenty-mile range. Its warhead, although powerful, was capable of only limited destruction.

  The missile batteries were intended for the second phase of the invasion; to be used to stop the threat of organized counter insurgency. Madeline had unfortunately been within the range of one of the first units set up in Texas. The battery that fired the missile had only just been activated after driving to a location twenty miles from San Antonio. If fate had allowed the battery to be operational ten minutes earlier, it would have received the signal and launched its missile whilst she was talking to General Welch. Luckily for her, it only received the targeting coordinates when it became active just after she ended the transmission.

  Hundreds of these systems, designed and built solely for the American operation, were currently being unloaded from transport planes to be mounted on adapted requisitioned pickup trucks. Soon they would be deployed in an ever-growing umbrella around the country.

  Madeline strode into the large central room of the ranch that had become the headquarters of the Texas resistance. General Liu was sitting on a chair around the large table. Sergeant Tommy Cho was by his side acting as his aide-cum-bodyguard-cum-prison guard. Sebastian went up to the radio set they had been using to communicate with other cells and to the surprise of its operator turned it off, telling her to leave it alone and to stop broadcasting.

  He then sat at another desk and put on some headphones attached to some very old-looking equipment and, after twisting a few dials to adjust the frequency, began tapping at a Morse code key. After a few minutes he stood up, removed the headphones, and approached Madeline.

  “Madam President, I have just sent a Morse code message about this new missile threat to be relayed to General Welch advising him to tell all he can about the dangers of radio communication.”

  Madeline looked alarmed. “Madam President, please do not worry. I can guarantee that the last thing the Chinese will be monitoring is low frequency, single bandwidth AM signals.”

  Not fully understanding what he had said, she nodded and tu
rned to the Chinese general. “General, I have just escaped death by seconds. You have deployed, and I do not know the correct terminology, missiles that target radio transmissions. You must tell us what you know about these systems now.”

  The general leaned forward over the table and bowed his head. “Madam President, you place me in an awkward position. I am Chinese and love my country. You cannot expect me to betray my knowledge of the weapons we have developed to beat you.”

  He paused. “But I also know the capabilities of these weapons. How do you say? They could be a game changer and severely hamper your efforts at resistance. Any information I give will undoubtedly cost the lives of my own countrymen, but I must weigh that against the costs of not assisting you and stopping the madness that has fallen upon us all.”

  Madeline sat next to him and placed her hand on his arm. “General, believe me I do understand, but the country is crippled. As you know, your strikes destroyed our ability to communicate effectively. Without the radios we will not be able to communicate and get to a position where we can stop this. We need your help, sir.”

  The general sat staring at Madeline. From the little contact they had had together his respect for her was growing. She was completely different to the leaders he had followed his entire life. They were God-like creatures whose power and authority were not to be questioned. To utter one word against them was placing your very life at risk.

  His position brought him into contact with some of them. They were untouchable, not interested in other views or opinions, only that you would do what they commanded. They scoffed at Western leaders and their weaknesses at having to obey the will of the people. Changing policy if public opinion went against them. The Chinese leaders did not care what the public thought. They were only there to serve the country, and they were the country. Madeline Tanner was comparatively unknown to him before the invasion. He knew she was third in line to succeed in the Presidency and the file he had received on her held little more than a picture and a brief description of her political career.

  He had met her in San Antonio when she had been captured. The cowed and beaten image she portrayed did little to change his opinion given in the report that she was weak and would easily be manipulated if captured. Now he had seen her covered in blood from the wounded Russian soldier she had helped; she had overpowered Fen Shu, knocking her out with a single punch and then persuaded her guards to flee; she’d changed from captive to captor when she tied her up until the Russians had reached them.

  The respect she received naturally from the Americans had turned to admiration when the stories the Russians told them spread. An internal conflict had been raging inside him since Sebastian had refused to accept his surrender. He had sat outwardly calm not showing his emotions whilst his brain had been racing as he wrestled between his sense of duty, his conscience, and in no small part his own ambitions.

  He knew that China’s mission to conquer America was most likely now doomed to fail. The Chinese had already poured hundreds of thousands of their best soldiers and vast stores of equipment into the country and more was on the way. The fight would be long, hard and bitter, but he now understood they had underestimated the American people and completely miscalculated the international response.

  If the world had left America to its fate, then they would have probably succeeded. He would have used a gentler approach to bring the American citizens to accept the reality that they had new masters. His leaders had chosen the more brutal route—one they understood—of creating camps and forcing citizens to work as slave labor leaving only those who provided the goods or services they needed free, albeit closely controlled and monitored through a network of spies and informants.

  They had anticipated the Canadian reaction, but their military, even though it was well trained and equipped was relatively small and would not pose a threat. They had planned to mollify them with advantageous trade agreements and offers of multibillion-dollar infrastructure investments, relying on the greed of the government to curb any aggression they might consider.

  Learning the Russians had joined the fight shocked him. All the advisors and intelligence reliably informed them they would sit aside and watch as their great enemy fell. They would most likely use it to their advantage and reassume control of some of the countries and territories that they had lost when the Soviet Union fell apart, and the world’s eyes were elsewhere.

  And without America to intervene what could anyone do about it?

  These experts and advisors, though, trying to garner favor with their masters, only chose the options that they thought they wanted to hear. The Russian military had long been in decline and considered a shell of its former self. Its southern border with China, once a solid wall of bunkers and fortifications was now reduced to a few outposts staffed by bored, under-trained and under-equipped soldiers who considered the posting more of a punishment than duty.

  The rejuvenation of their military in recent years was watched with interest, but once again all advice reliably informed the country’s leaders that it was to counter American control spreading east from Europe and that they would never have the courage to limit China’s own expansion plans. China thought that as their financial stranglehold on the world grew, no nation would have the courage to harm the hand that feeds it.

  The British were known to be a stubborn and proud people, but again China had invested heavily in the country and believed the control they could exert would force them not to get involved. Without the imports they controlled both directly and indirectly, the country would fall. Their military was one of the best trained in the world and though small, should never be underestimated.

  Every country in the world modelled their special forces on the SAS and even though they only numbered in their hundreds, the psychological effect on their enemies thinking they were out there, waiting to strike, made them equivalent to a force many times larger.

  General Liu reached a decision. He held Madeline’s gaze. “I will help you,” he said. “If only to save my country from being destroyed. For my own benefit, could records be kept proving to my own countrymen that I chose to help not because I am a traitor, but because I love my country and want to save it? If one day I can return I need to hold my head up and not bowed in shame.”

  “You have my word, General.”

  He nodded his thanks and patted her hand that still lay on his arm.

  “Mister Sebastian? Please get me a map and I will show you where the missile command center is located. All our headquarters are set up on the same principals so the others around the country will be the same.

  As Sebastian turned away, Madeline said, “Also, you need to question Fen Shu about where the cure is for the virus. We need that if we are to replicate and mass produce it.”

  He smiled. “Am I permitted to use enhanced interrogation techniques?”

  “As far as I am concerned,” she said, suspecting that the generic-sounding term hid a whole raft of atrocities under its skirt, “you can do what the hell you like to the bitch. She is responsible for the deaths of millions of Americans.”

  “Do not worry, Madam President. I will get her to talk even if it’s with her last breath.”

  “Do not kill her please, Sebastian,” interrupted General Liu.

  “General, I will do whatever it takes to get her to talk,” Sebastian replied sharply. “If she dies, then with all due respect it’s none of your business, sir. We need that information.”

  “But you do not understand…” Liu said hesitantly. “Her uncle is the Chinese President.”

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  Gander Airport, Newfoundland, Canada

  Gander Airport was once a hive of activity. Now, it was quiet and mostly forgotten. It found fame as an intercontinental flight refueling stop, but that was curtailed by new technology which allowed planes to fly nonstop halfway around the world without the need to refuel.

  Maintained as an emergency landing airport for tran
satlantic flights, its long runways and large aprons had far greater capacity than its current regional airport role.

  Its aprons were now full of airplanes that continually landed and took off in a well-choreographed display. Military and civilian passenger planes disgorged the thousands of United States troops repatriated from bases around the world who then waited in the terminal buildings or hangers for orders to arrive.

  These men and women were angry. They had been in a foreign land when the Chinese had attacked. They’d watched the devastation of the nuclear attacks and conventional bombings on televisions mounted on walls of barracks from a country they had left home to help defend and protect. Most knew they had lost family members and friends, and they wanted revenge.

  They were continually told by Americans hurriedly dispatched from embassies and consulates across Canada the fight was not over and every one of them would be needed in the coming battles to repel the invaders, and to be patient as the plans were being drawn up. Gander had been selected as it had the capacity to deal with the numbers and its remote location would hopefully keep the activities away from Chinese eyes. Not taking any chances Canadian police and the intelligence service detained any Chinese national or Chinese-Canadian citizen in the surrounding area. Human rights considerations were put on hold as national security took precedence over the feelings of the few involved.

  Once again, the ordinary citizens of Gander stepped forward to help, just like they had during the 9-11 terrorist crisis when thousands of passengers were stranded at the airport due to American airspace being shut down and their planes being forced to divert there. Then, as now, they welcomed the unexpected arrivals with open arms and friendliness.

  Rallying together they set up soup kitchens to help feed the thousands of soldiers, and distributed blankets and bedding to offer the soldiers some comfort. The Canadian government was sending everything it could to help, but the efforts of the local population augmented this and greatly relieved the pressure on their personnel trying to deal with such a large influx.