Homefront: The Voice of Freedom

by John

  He had a very bad feeling about it all. Somehow Walker knew this was just the beginning of something unprecedented.

  FIVE

  JANUARY 15, 2025

  11:15 P.M., PST.

  The day had gone well.

  Salmusa sat at his computer in the Van Nuys home. He had carried his wife’s corpse into the bedroom and left her there. He would have no further need for their home after today. If she was found by authorities, they wouldn’t be able to locate him. Besides, they would have so much more on their hands without having to worry about finding the killer of an insignificant Korean American woman who worked at a donut shop.

  In hindsight, Salmusa acknowledged that Kianna had been a good woman. It wasn’t her fault she was an American. It was too bad she and her family had bought into the American lies and decadent lifestyle. She had served her purpose well as part of his cover. He wished her happiness in her next life.

  Still, Salmusa felt no remorse for what he’d had to do. He had conditioned himself long ago to kill with calculated objectivity. If it was for the Greater Korean Republic and the Brilliant Comrade, then it was his duty. He would lay down his life for Kim Jong-un, and he would murder thousands for him.

  He would never forget the pledge he had made to his friend when they were both eight years old. They were in Kim Jong-il’s summer residence outside Pyongyang, where Salmusa had gone to stay for a few months with young Jong-un. His friend had read somewhere how the Italian mafia would swear blood oaths to each other. New recruits attended a secret ceremony at which the don or whomever would prick the newcomer’s finger as well as his own, and the two men would ritualistically join their blood together in front of the entire group. Then the recruit guaranteed his loyalty to the “family.”

  Jong-un had been fascinated with tales of the Italian mafia. He admired how the “family” was controlled by a father figure, the so-called “don,” and the organization beneath him was made up of lieutenants and captains and muscle. He had advisors, too, but the final word rested with the don.

  Salmusa’s friend likened the mythos to North Korea. His father, Kim Jong-il, was the don, and everyone else in the country was his family. Men had to pledge allegiance to him and act on the dictator’s orders.

  So, in private, on the banks of a stream near the summer home, Kim Jong-un and Yi Dae-Hyun pricked their fingers and held them together. They swore to be friends forever. Even though they did not know then that Jong-un would one day be chosen as his father’s successor, Dae-Hyun pledged eternal commitment to him. Reciprocally, Jong-un vowed to afford Dae-Hyun a place of power in his organization.

  Salmusa glanced at his watch. It was time to commence Phase Two.

  He logged in to the private URL and chat room. All but one of his operatives were present. The man from Miami was missing.

  Salmusa asked if anyone knew where he was.

  The man stationed in Atlanta replied that the Miami operation was problematic. There were eyewitness reports from a survivor that a passenger on the Metromover noticed the abandoned briefcase and tried to stop the operative from leaving the train without it. Apparently there was some kind of struggle. The bomb went off with the operative still in the car. The survivor reported that the man attempting to leave the car was Asian.

  Salmusa didn’t think it was of any consequence. They had all known it was a dangerous task.

  “We honor our fallen comrade,” he typed. “I will see to it that his name is known to the Brilliant Comrade and appropriate tributes are made.”

  Enough of that.

  “This will be our last communication, as Phase Two begins in minutes. Please verify that your snake is implemented and ready to strike.”

  The “snake” was Trojan spyware for which each operative was responsible. It had taken two long years, but the Koreans managed to hack into all U.S. networks and communication systems, including the military and Federal government agencies. Because 50 percent of all software and hardware in the last ten years was made in Korea or the member countries in the Greater Korean Republic, it was possible to compromise the Trusted Platform Module components that went into American government computers. The TPM was a security device that offered facilities for the secure generation of cryptographic keys, as well as authentication procedures for hardware. Since most of the hardware was manufactured by third party companies—many under Korea’s control—it was possible to install backdoor Trojan access into the modules. Of course, not every computer in the Federal government was applicable, but a very high percentage was. Most important, the military networks had gone through a computerized upgrade within the last two years—one of the few things on which money was spent since their methods had become more automated. With the “new military” consisting of more drones and robots and less human deployment, the upgrade was necessary.

  Nearly all of the computer equipment bought by the military indirectly came from Korean suppliers. The plan had been in place since 2016.

  Each man answered, “Ready.” The snakes were coiled and prepared for triggering.

  Salmusa congratulated the operatives on the success of their mission, wished them well, and signed off. He then placed a video call to Pyongyang.

  After the usual few minutes of security checks and verification of Salmusa’s identity through two subordinates, Kim Jong-un appeared on the monitor.

  “Brilliant Comrade, good day,” Salmusa said.

  “It is indeed a good day, Salmusa,” the dictator replied. “The sun is shining and it’s not too cold.”

  “I am happy to report that Phase Two is ready for implementation.”

  “Very good. I will send authorization to the appropriate administrators. How is the mood in America?”

  “They are panicking like ants that have had their hill stepped upon. As you know, all twelve mass transit attacks were successful. We lost one operative.” He relayed the man’s name to Kim.

  “I will inscribe his name in the Book of Honor and inform his family that he died serving our country.”

  “For the past seven hours, emergency services in the twelve major cities have been put to the test. It is time to enact Phase Two while the police, fire departments, and ambulance drivers are busy attempting to deal with our work today. And after that … Phase Three.”

  “Your safe house is ready?”

  “Yes, my Brilliant Comrade. It is not far from here. I will abandon this house as soon as we sign off. I sacrifice my Hyundai in the name of the GKR.”

  Kim laughed. “I will see to it that you have another one day.”

  “I am sure the Volkswagen in the shielded garage will be fine. The Germans made good cars … once.”

  “Then this is goodbye for now, my friend. In three days we will talk again?”

  “Providing the satellite data card in the safe house works properly. Do not be concerned. I will get a message to you one way or the other.”

  “Very well.” Kim bowed his head. “Thank you, Salmusa. Thank you, Dae-Hyun. You have done a great service for me and for Korea.”

  Salmusa felt a surge of great pride. “My service is not over, Jong-un. I will see my mission through as long as I am needed here. Thank you for the opportunity, Brilliant Comrade.”

  Then Kim did something Salmusa wasn’t expecting. The dictator held up his index finger, the same one he had pricked many years ago. Then he smiled. Salmusa nodded and held up his own index finger. The scars had disappeared but the memories were still there.

  The two men said goodbye again and signed off.

  Salmusa looked at his watch. 11:30 P.M.

  Time to go.

  The North American Aerospace Defense Command, otherwise known as NORAD, provided advance aerospace warning, air sovereignty, and defense for both the United States and Canada. Located at the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station in Colorado, the facility remained on active status even after the downsizing of the U.S. military. NORAD’s commander was also the head of USNORTHCOM, a Unified Combatant Command
that supplied protection from air, land, and sea approaches to the contiguous States, Alaska, Canada, and Mexico, as well as the Gulf of Mexico, the Straits of Florida, the Bahamas, Puerto Rico, and the U.S. Virgin Islands.

  While there had been significant cutbacks in staff of both NORAD and USNORTHCOM, a minimum crew of fifteen constantly monitored satellite communications, air traffic, and early warning systems.

  At 12:30 A.M. Mountain Standard Time, the Senior Analyst on duty, Captain Jeffrey Peterson, was keeping an eye on the Korean satellite designated as “K101.” Ever since it had positioned itself over the United States earlier in the day, he had submitted the appropriate reports to the Pentagon and his superiors. No one seemed to pay any attention. The satellite had passed over North America numerous times since the Koreans launched it in 2023. Everyone knew its purpose was to revamp the failing global GPS system. It was working, too. The past six months had shown significant improvement in international GPS mapping. It was believed the Koreans, for once, were actually doing the world a favor.

  Nevertheless, Captain Peterson was concerned because the satellite hadn’t moved in three hours. It remained in a stationary position, directly three hundred miles above Lebanon, Kansas, near the intersection of AA Road and K-191—said to be the exact center of the contiguous United States. Normally the satellite was always on the move.

  Sergeant Melissa Davies turned away from her monitors, since nothing was going on there, and asked her boss, “Jeff, is that satellite still giving you the heebie-jeebies?”

  Peterson slapped the counter and took a swig of his rapidly cooling coffee. “I can’t understand why it’s just sitting there. Has it malfunctioned?”

  Davies got up, stood behind Peterson, and looked over his shoulder. “And it’s been there for how long?”

  “Going on four hours.”

  “And you’ve contacted the Pentagon? And the commander?”

  “I got hold of the deputy commander. He said not to worry about it.”

  “No response from the Pentagon?”

  “It’s the middle of the night there. You know it’s a skeleton crew until morning.”

  Suddenly, every monitor in the command center went blank. The other thirteen analysts simultaneously vocalized surprise.

  “What just happened?” Peterson asked. He started fiddling with controls. “We’re offline.” He stood and called out to the others. “Is anyone online?”

  Negative.

  He picked up the dedicated hotline and made a call.

  In the silent halls of the Pentagon, the men and women working the graveyard shift were just as panic-stricken. Every computer in the building had abruptly shut down. After a moment’s hesitation, the staff scrambled to find out what went wrong.

  The same thing happened at the White House. As inter-governmental communication failed, personnel relayed messages within the building by intercom and phone. The Chief of Staff was awoken and briefed. He personally strode to the president’s living quarters to rouse him.

  At the J. Edgar Hoover Building, the FBI experienced a lesser, but just as devastating computer breakdown. They lost connections to world databases and comlinks to U.S. civilian law enforcement agencies.

  The digitally mechanized NSA was powerless. Before the full seriousness of the attack was known, a security agent commented wryly as he picked up the phone, “I have to dial the chief. How quaint.”

  The CIA’s vast computerized network, including their remaining active stations in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, were cut off.

  Phones rang all over Washington, waking the Cabinet and key members of Congress. The government could not communicate with the branches of the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, or National Guard. The various agencies could not converse with each other except by telephone.

  Besides the inability to liaison, issue commands, and act on them, the military had no way to launch defense missiles.

  Many computer networks associated with the FAA ceased to function. Control towers at airports all over the nation lost the ability to track commercial planes already in the air. Pilots could still speak to each other and to air traffic controllers, but ground radar was kaput. In short, they were flying without a net. At first the problem didn’t seem to be too serious. In the middle of the night there was little air traffic; pilots could usually navigate aircrafts manually and land without the benefit of a controller’s instructions. They all thought—surely the glitch will be fixed shortly.

  By midnight, Pacific Standard Time, the realization set in that America’s military and governmental computer systems had been hit by an unknown, seriously destructive cyber attack.

  Perhaps it was best that the public at large had no idea what had occurred. The only computers affected were non-civilian. The average person was unaware that the country had been rendered defenseless in a matter of minutes, setting the stage for the coup de grâce.

  SIX

  JANUARY 16, 2025

  12:05 A.M., PST.

  After his conversation with Salmusa, Kim Jong-un, the Brilliant Comrade and leader of the Greater Korean Republic, sat in his private office. Lost in thought, he studied a map of the United States that hung over the planning table. A bull’s-eye was marked on the strategic point in Kansas, above which the satellite the Americans called “K101” hovered.

  What he was about to do would change the world.

  For 250 years, the United States of America had dominated the globe. She had managed to thwart mighty Britain until the United Kingdom was a mere shadow of her former self. America defeated Germany twice, even pushing back the powerful Nazis and destroying Hitler’s plans of world conquest. The North American country even stomped on Imperial Japan, reducing that proud nation to rubble until the Land of the Rising Sun became a subservient pawn in U.S. superiority.

  Kim’s father, the honorable Kim Jong-il, stood up to America time and time again. He was forced to withstand inequitable sanctions and criticisms from the international community due to lies and accusations regarding North Korea’s nuclear programs. As a result, South Korea prospered while North Korea languished in poverty and pedestrian technology.

  But now everything had changed. Ever since the favored son ascended to replace his late father to be the leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-un succeeded in turning the country’s fortunes around. By reuniting with the South, he strengthened the land’s financial pockets and military muscle. He conquered Korea’s longtime enemy, Japan. He annexed other Asian countries to create the Greater Korean Republic. Kim Jong-un brought respect to what was once referred to as “North Korea.”

  Slowly but surely, chinks were made in the once potent American armor. The sworn enemy of Kim’s nation was no longer a giant that policed the world. She was weak and vulnerable. Kim once heard a Western Biblical story concerning a boy named David and a giant named Goliath. The Hebrew boy was no match for this vicious and powerful adversary. But David surprised everyone by defeating the giant with a single slingshot. A tiny weapon against a strong warrior.

  The analogy could be applied to Korea and the United States.

  When Korea captured Japan’s Aerospace Exploration Agency and took possession of the M-V rocket, Kim Jong-un saw that his dream to defeat America could become a reality. What the world didn’t know was North Korea did have nuclear capabilities back when he allowed the United Nations into the country for inspection. They were simply well-hidden. By seizing the missing materials in Japan needed to build a nuclear weapon, the task was completed.

  The satellite launched into orbit in 2023 carried a ten-megaton thermonuclear device. When detonated three-hundred miles above America, as it currently was positioned, the blast would blanket the entire country in an electromagnetic pulse—an EMP. Nearly every electronic device with an integrated circuit of any kind would immediately fail.

  Phase Three.

  Kim Jong-un knew fully well what the consequences of the act would be. The international
community would condemn Korea. European allies would rush to America’s aid, but given the current economic conditions all over the world—except in Korea—it might takes months or even years before help arrived. By then, it would be too late.

  Korean warships were already crossing the Pacific on their way to Hawaii, set to arrive in forty-eight hours. Then, using Hawaii as a staging point, the world’s largest Special Forces contingent would land a mix of troops on the West Coast shores of the United States. Airborne paratroopers would be dropped farther inland. The takeover of key targets of value—military bases, civic centers, and natural resources such as the oil shale in Colorado, which the U.S. lacked the technology to extract—would swiftly fall into Korean hands. Noncritical areas would be left to survive or fall on their own, assuming the people didn’t try to retaliate or defend areas of Korean interest.

  Kim’s analysts assured him the American government would be helpless. After the initial transit attacks to demonstrate to the population how susceptible it was, and the cyber strike to convince the government and military that they, too, were defenseless, the EMP would catapult the country’s level of technology back to the 1800s.

  Kim Jong-un was well aware what this would mean.

  A new world order, with Korea calling the shots.

  He picked up the phone and gave the order to commence Phase Three.

  12:30 A.M., PST.

  Walker had fallen asleep on the couch. Jack Daniels had done its work, knocking him into a state of oblivion during the evening hours after the mass transit attacks. He was watching the news on television and eventually couldn’t keep his eyes open.

  A loud, rumbling noise shook him to his senses.

  At first he was disoriented—and still drunk—when he opened his eyes.

  The house was pitch dark. No lights anywhere.