The Land of the Free

by Krakondack

  Late in the afternoon, Miller was patrolling in the South China Sea near the disputed Dongsha Islands (20), a coral atoll mostly submerged at high tide. The only settlement of note was small Pratas Island with its air strip and few buildings. The Dongsha Islands were administered by Taiwan but were only 200 miles from Hong Kong. China had a standing claim over the Dongsha Islands, and for this reason there were constant air patrols to monitor any Chinese activities in the region. All this meant little to Miller, but he enjoyed flying over the region with its shallow, circular, turquoise colored lagoon bordered by little more than sand bars to the east and Pratas Island to the West. The shallow lagoon and sandbars reminded him of flying over the Bahamas, and he daydreamed of being back home when he flew over this segment of the South China Sea.

  Miller slowed as he flew over the lagoon and savored the moment, the sun setting behind him. In the distance he saw a modern Sea Hawk helicopter approaching to relieve him. He would return to base, leaving the patrol to the luckier pilot. Wistfully, he pushed forward on the lever to increase his forward speed, but as he did so he noticed a blindingly bright flash coming from almost overhead. He scrambled to quickly analyze what might have just happened. His control of the helicopter was intact but his radio and all other electronic equipment were dead. He could not speak to the other crew members, and supposed that the wireless devices in their helmets were dead. He could not contact anybody electronically. His thought went to contacting the approaching Sea Hawk visually.

  As Miller scanned the horizon for the Sea Hawk, he saw it in an uncontrolled descent to the water. As he watched it splash down, he thought it had retained enough rotor speed that the crew would probably be unharmed. He turned the Sea King in the direction of the downed Sea Hawk, and noticed they had deployed an emergency raft. Why had they gone down when my old helicopter was flying just fine? he wondered. Because my flight controls are completely hydraulic while the Sea Hawk has an electronic interface he concluded, suddenly feeling more respect for the old bird. Miller hovered over the raft deployed by the Sea Hawk crew while his own crew winched them aboard, one by one. He was unable to communicate with the rescued Sea Hawk crew other than by hand signals, so he landed at nearby Pratas Island.

  “Did you guys lose all communications too?” asked the other pilot.

  “Yeah, but the old bird could still fly. You went down. I guess your computer went out?” said Miller.

  “We lost everything,” said the other pilot. They looked at one another briefly, and each could see the look of confusion in the others’ eyes.

  …

  Georgetown

  Bill Connolly’s doorbell rang at six in the morning, waking his security personnel. They let an angry Tyler Matheson into the mansion and awoke the Director. Connolly dismissed his Security Staff and walked to his study to meet Matheson.

  “This is no damn drill!” exclaimed Matheson, angrier than Connolly had ever seen him.

  “Calm down, Tyler, I told you it would seem crazy.” Connolly walked to his desk, sat down in his chair, and motioned Matheson to sit at the guest chair.

  Matheson sat down, but was in no mood for explanations. “It’s not a drill when my Air Force bases have scores dead and some sort of special forces in control of the place. And to think I’d spent most of the night discounting the reports, telling everyone there’s no need to panic. I’m going to revoke your codes for the Pentagon, and change the codes for our nuclear weapons. I should never have agreed to this. You’re some kind of traitor.”

  Connolly leaned forward a little, picking up his pipe off the desk with one hand, the other below the top of the desk. As he leaned back, he kept speaking casually. “Tyler, I’m telling you, there’s a misunderstanding. You’re hearing the dramatizations we’re putting on.”

  As Connolly leaned back, he raised his hand above the desk, showing his gun for the first time. Matheson’s angry expression turned to terror for an instant. Then Connolly pulled the trigger.

  Connolly phoned a speed-dial number. “Matheson’s dead.”

  “He said he kept them from reacting, and when he realized what was happening, he came straight here.”

  “You should be all set at the Pentagon. Morningstar can proceed.”

  “One more thing. I’ve dismissed my security. Get someone over here to clean up the mess.”

  …

  The Pentagon

  The Hall of Heroes ceremony was scheduled for nine o’clock, and by seven, the Pentagon was starting to fill with soldiers in dress uniforms, reporters, and dignitaries of all stripes. TV crews were set up everywhere they were permitted. The Pentagon Force Protection Agency (PFPA) was assembled with the honor guard, one of the few times they were all in one place. With the emptying of the nation’s military bases, the PFPA was the largest single security force in the DC area.

  In charge of the ceremony was Diane Ellison, social coordinator at the Pentagon. Her vivacious personality and good looks were indispensible to organize and manage social events. The guests assembled in the central plaza of the Pentagon, known since the Cold War as “ground zero,” on the assumption that the first Soviet missile would strike there. The podium was set up, and by eight, most all the guests were present, drinking coffee, socializing, and networking. Ellison was working the crowd expertly, but she was secretly growing anxious about the absence of the Defense Secretary. He was officially needed to introduce the guests at nine, but unofficially, he should be here right now to shake hands and chat.

  “Ms. Ellison, do you know when the Secretary is supposed to arrive?” asked the press corps. “Any second now. I’m sure he’s just attending to some last minute business,” was the brave answer. She moved on to speak with a Senator passing by.

  Nobody noticed when the doors they had used to enter the central plaza closed, and locked. The other doors were all access controlled and closed, so nobody could know they had been overridden from inside. The guests were trapped, some five thousand in all. The cacophony of conversations continued uninterrupted until several doors opened at once. Everybody noticed the men dressed in all black emerge, carrying M-50 machine guns. There was silence as everybody watched the men set up their weapons at one end of the plaza. When they took aim at the crowd, the silence turned into panic. “They’ve got machine guns!” shouted a man.

  The guests made aggressively for the opposite side of the plaza, running and trampling others underfoot as they went. The PFPA Agents and various soldiers in the crowd scrambled to get to the front of the crowd to face the men in black. It was pointless, as the crush of people trying to escape the machine guns overwhelmed them.

  The men in black looked at each other calmly, and one gave a hand signal. The guests began screaming hysterically once the shooting began. “For God’s sake, stop!” was heard loudly. “There’s women here!” was another.

  Only a few people among the guests even had a light sidearm, so it was a bloodbath. The screaming reached a fevered pitch as the guests realized that all of them were targets. The shooting continued uninterrupted for several minutes, until the screaming had stopped completely. Bodies were strewn everywhere within the plaza. Diane Ellison was on her back, blood flowing from one corner of her mouth, her eyes glazed over. The pile was so deep at places that nobody could be sure there weren’t survivors piled under dead bodies. The men in black threw grenades into the piles of bodies, mostly dismembering those already dead. As they backed out the doors they had entered through, several stopped and for good measure fired a dozen incendiary rockets into the plaza, creating a firestorm so hot that nobody could survive. More importantly from their perspective, they had created a scene of incomprehensible horror at the precise center of the American Defense establishment.

  The sounds of the screams and shooting, as well as the fire that followed, were observed by the media that had assembled outside the Pentagon for the ceremony, and reported live on the air. Rumors of attacks all over the country were coming in one after another. The press covered
all of them, even the speculative rumors that could not be confirmed. The reporters described each one with the backdrop of a burning Pentagon, so every American watching TV could see for himself the state of American Defense.

  …

  Homeland Security Agents were positioned at checkpoints on the nation’s major highways at underutilized rest stops, where all traffic could be routed through the rest stop. Agents were informed that they were looking for the terrorist cells that were responsible for the Pentagon attack. They knew that this would bring all highway traffic to a standstill, but had no choice but to follow their instructions.

  Some highways would not experience gridlock. One was the Trans-Texas Corridor from Mexico through Texas, where all on-ramps were blocked off but traffic would be allowed to pass. Similarly open but for the on-ramps were spurs from this highway leading to key elements of America’s oil industry.

  Traffic at the periphery of most major cities was curtailed by pickup trucks bearing large caliber machine guns staffed by Chinese troops under the command of fluently bilingual Chinese civilians. The Chinese troops met no resistance in most cities. A SWAT team in New Jersey responded to a report of shots being fired at the Palisades Parkway but was cut to pieces by large caliber machine gun fire. Survivors radioed in reporting what happened, and word spread quickly that the Chinese had control of the cities and were willing and able to use lethal force.

  Paratroopers from San Gustavo secured major civilian airports not near sea ports and air transport craft followed, landing supplies and heavy equipment at those airports. Within hours, military and civilian airports around the country became the bases of operation for a new occupying power. There was little resistance and before long, the air space of the United States was fully controlled by Morningstar security together with General Kim’s forces. Any remaining American ground forces, and there were few, were now operating under a hostile air umbrella. They had no ability to mount an armed response.

  Aircraft from San Gustavo lastly began to land on closed highways close to oil refineries, storage and distribution facilities across the country. With oil facilities secured, America’s oil refining and distribution was under the control of the invading forces. Denial of energy could now be used against noncompliant communities. No oil or gas could be imported from abroad except through the ports and oil terminals, now also under occupation. If a counterattack were even possible, it would risk destroying America’s energy infrastructure, leaving a completely disabled economy in its wake.

  Chapter 71: Torres Informed

  Kurdi sat in Hanna Morgensen’s office first thing in the morning, together with John Corson, Frank Goworski, Roger Snyder and Mildred Howe. Kurdi’s phone rang and he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned moments later, he was accompanied by Lyle Ferguson and Jess Linssman. “I did some searching and found these two cruising the Caribbean, so I had the Coast Guard pick them up off the ship and flew them here. I take it you know each other.”

  John embraced Jess, turning his head away from everyone to hide the tears now flowing freely. “I was afraid you’d been killed in the plane crash.”

  “We scrapped that plan when it was clear we’d been followed,” said Lyle. “Still, we had no idea they’d take down a whole plane to stop us.”

  “When they picked us up off the cruise ship, we weren’t sure who they were working with. That was the scariest part for us, not being sure if we’d be dumped at sea,” said Jess.

  “Sorry for that part of it,” said Kurdi. “But I felt the quicker you got here, the safer you’d be. Now I apologize for not allowing more time for you to reacquaint yourselves. Ms. Morgensen has agreed to take us to see the President, where the whole case can be made and the United States can respond appropriately.”

  “I just hope it’s not too late,” said Jess. “The whole thing was already pretty much in motion when we left San Marcos.”

  John looked out of the corner of his eye and noticed that as they were walking to the Oval Office, Lyle and Jess were holding hands. He let himself smile broadly at what he took to be their happiness.

  …

  “Mr. President, these people have discovered a plot by China to invade and occupy the United States,” opened Morgensen. “At first I didn’t believe it when Mr. Kurdistani told me, but the satellite imagery shows it’s true. And they say it’s now underway.”

  Torres’ darted from the calm, persistent scowl of Hanna Morgensen, to the faces of his visitors, and other random directions. The Cobra would not have brought them here if it weren’t true, he was sure of that. But she has an agenda. She always does. And she would not be so calm if this was a surprise to her. “Please, tell me what you know,” he finally said.

  John started to brief Torres on what he had found by pursuing Robbie’s death, inviting Lyle to describe what they witnessed on San Marcos. Jess showed the photographs she had taken of the facilities, and Torres was aghast throughout the presentation. They were suddenly interrupted by Gerry Levine, charging into the office in a panic. “Sir, there’s an urgent matter I need you to address. We have a national security emergency developing.”

  “Let me guess, Chinese invasion of our ports and a ground army crossing the Mexican border,” said Frank.

  Levine’s eyes opened wider as he looked at Frank, then back to Torres. “Two of these men are wanted for questioning by the FBI and should never have been allowed in here. I’m going to demand that Matthew Simpson be suspended from the Secret Service for allowing this breach.”

  Frank continued, “If you weren’t tied up with your stupid fundraising, we could have told you about this four days ago when there was still time to do something about it.”

  Torres attempted to calm things. “Gerry is it true, that this is the emergency?”

  Levine turned to Torres and continued, “Yes, Sir, it’s true. We’re under attack. And there’s been a massacre at the Pentagon. Thousands are dead. The press was there for a ceremony, so they’re all over it. But we have to get these people out of here immediately.”

  “Gerry, these people are the only experts we have on the developing scenario,” said Torres. He turned to the Secret Service Agent at the door. “Please take them to the situation room and make them comfortable. They’re staying a while. Meanwhile I’d like to speak with you Gerry, Secretary Morgensen and Kurdi a moment.”

  Levine was frantic. “Sir, the Pentagon’s on fire. Thousands are dead. People we know. Secretary Matheson was supposed to be there.”

  Torres was having none of Levine’s hysteria, and screamed at his cabinet members. “How in bloody hell does all this happen while the only people who knew it was coming are outsiders who can’t get in to see me for four days after they’ve learned it?” The cabinet members said nothing, and even the Cobra looked at the floor respectfully.

  “Levine, you’re dismissed, effective immediately. Kurdi, you’re in charge of the situation room. The two of you get out of here now.”

  Levine and Kurdi left, and Torres spoke with Morgensen. “So what’s the game Hanna?”

  “Obviously, elements of the government are involved in this,” said Morgensen. “You can’t just take over the United States without some inside help.”

  “And my army, the one you insisted I send over to Taiwan because we didn’t need them here at home?”

  “Better that they’re positioned forward where they can confront the enemy on their turf. That’s been United States policy for years now.”

  “Confront how, exactly?” asked Torres.

  “You need to bring in Tyler Matheson. Or if he’s dead, an Undersecretary of Defense, and craft a military response,” said Morgensen, now appearing a little defensive.

  “And after I do, you’ll tell me what the response is going to be, Hanna. So cut to the chase. What are you going to make me do this time?”

  “An appropriate response would be to deploy our troops to occupy strategic ports in China,” started Morgensen. “No po
int escalating things beyond that. At least not yet.”

  “What about securing our country?” asked Torres.

  “We sack the quarterback, Mr. President. The best defense is a good offense. Then we can negotiate, after we capture territory of equal value.”

  “Let’s get everyone in the situation room,” said Torres. “We can go into executive session for decisions, but for the discussion the whole group will be present.”

  Chapter 72: The Situation Room

  In the chaos that followed the horrific news from the Pentagon and the abrupt dismissal of the Chief of Staff, reports of troop movements in the DC area reached the White House sporadically. It was all Torres could do to keep his team focused, and above all, away from TV sets. Throughout the White House, people were weeping, or looking like they were completely in shock. One of the first reports received was of the occupation of the NSA and Fort Meade, achieved by blocking several key roads. Bearing the fingerprints of Morningstar Security was a simultaneous attack on the communications systems employed by the NSA. Key cables were severed, satellite communications equipment failed, and redundant failsafe means of communication that were not thought known outside the NSA also failed. Employees were prevented from entering the complex, and those who had arrived were sent home. All were promised they could return in several weeks after “certain issues of governance” were worked out.

  Undersecretary of Defense Mac Johnson stormed into the situation room exclaiming, “Secretary Matheson is missing, presumed dead at the Pentagon. Half of our facilities in the DC area have fallen, and I haven’t heard from the other half.”

  “Who is it, Mac?” asked Morgensen. “Are they Chinese?”