The Zeta Grey War: The Event

by D F Capps

  “The movement of Russian tanks into Poland is not authorized. Terrorists have broken into the base and taken the tanks. I am asking that you allow us to stop them without interference.”

  Newcomb dramatically shook his head.

  “We’re not going to be able to do that,” Andrews answered. “We need a cooperative solution.”

  Pasternov paused. “We can stop the column of tanks from the air, then your NATO can take over. We need to stop this terrorist attack as soon as possible.”

  “I need to get back to you,” Andrews said. He reached over and put the phone on mute.

  “General? How far away are our fighters?”

  General Sadowski checked the main screen. “Twenty minutes, give or take.”

  “The Russian fighters are already there,” Andrews replied.

  “True,” Sadowski said. “What are the ramifications of Russian fighters opening fire inside a NATO member country?”

  “As opposed to NATO fighters firing on Russian tanks?” Andrews replied.

  “Those Russian tanks are inside Poland,” Newcomb added. “It’s not like we’re invading Belarus.”

  Andrews nodded.

  * * *

  The flashers could be seen through the heavy rain ahead. Police cars from Biała Podlaska were blocking the road into the city. As they approached the blockade, Gruber aimed his shoulder-launched missile at the closest police car and pulled the trigger. The resulting explosion scattered the remaining police. He led his column of tanks over the damaged cars and into the heart of the city.

  At nearly midnight most of the city businesses were closed, except for some restaurants and a number of nightclubs. Gruber grinned. As instructed, men from each tank used the shoulder-fired missiles to target businesses on the main street that remained open. Running at full speed, the column of tanks would traverse the city within six minutes. The NATO forces weren’t anywhere close, and the Russian planes weren’t going to risk additional casualties by firing on them while they were inside the city. The risk came after the tanks rejoined the main highway that bypassed Biała Podlaska.

  * * *

  “The Russian tanks are firing on civilians,” Newcomb reported. “We need to stop this before more people die.”

  Andrews watched the screen in heartbroken silence as more tanks opened fire on the civilian city of Biała Podlaska. He unmuted the phone. “Yuri?”

  After a short pause Pasternov spoke. “We can stop them now. No more innocent life need be lost.”

  “Warning shots first?” Andrews asked. “Give them a chance to surrender?”

  “Not my preference,” Pasternov replied. “They’re terrorists.”

  * * *

  As Gruber left Biała Podlaska behind him a Russian SU-27 fighter laid down a stream of automatic cannon fire on the road in front of him and his column of tanks. Warning shots, he thought. How predictable. He called his soldiers over the radio: “Time to leave. Shut the tanks down. Use exfil plan Baker, repeat, exfil plan Baker.”

  Gruber brought his column of tanks to a stop, climbed out, and led his men into the forest to the right of the road.

  * * *

  “The tanks have stopped,” General Sadowski reported. “Soldiers disbursing into the woods. Even with our high resolution infrared, between the cloud cover, the rain, and the trees, they’re going to be difficult to track.”

  Andrews grimaced. “Do the best you can.”

  “I’m afraid the media has picked up the story,” Franks said. “I’ll put it on the screen over here.”

  Andrews sat down and shifted his attention to the new screen.

  “This is Jan Abernathy, reporting for TV4. Our military analyst, retired army general Herbert Greely is here with us this afternoon. General, what do you think is going on?”

  Greely appeared stern and concerned. His short hair accented the large bald section on the top of his head. “As I have warned before, the Russians have a long history of using military exercises as a pretext for invasions. It allows them to put all of their forces in place without NATO mounting an effective defense. This is just another blatant example of Russian aggression. As I predicted, civilians are being specifically targeted by the Russian army. This column of invading Russian tanks is shooting at everything that moves, while the Russian air force is providing cover.”

  “Greely?” General Sadowski said, shaking his head. “I thought we got rid of him when we pushed him into retirement.”

  “Apparently not,” Andrews replied.

  Chapter 28

  Assault Leader Gruber rallied his men in the forest. They quickly stripped off the Russian uniforms that covered the Polish police uniforms underneath. Transparent raincoats completed the transformation. The Russian uniforms were wadded up and stuffed under bushes. They continued through the forest until they emerged on the north side bordering a gravel road. Sixteen police cars waited in the pouring rain, each marked from one of four neighboring districts.

  “The call for assistance has been sent out over the radio by the local police,” the driver of Gruber’s car said. “They’ll be expecting flashers and sirens.”

  “Then let’s not disappoint them,” Gruber replied. The thought of sneaking away from the area with flashers and sirens going was just too comical.

  * * *

  “The Russian fighters have returned to Belarus,” Sadowski reported. “They are landing now. By the time our NATO fighters get to the tanks, there won’t be any other aircraft in the air.”

  “Pasternov is on the line,” Franks said.

  “Yuri, I see that the tanks have been stopped,” Andrews said.

  “Yes,” Pasternov said. “Remaining Zapad exercises are cancelled and my forces turning for home.”

  Andrews nodded in agreement. “Thank you. I’ll pass the word.”

  Andrews faced his advisors. “Have our forces stand down, now.”

  “You believe him?” Newcomb asked.

  Andrews nodded and returned his attention to the media screen.

  “This is Jan Abernathy, reporting for TV4.”

  Andrews sat in a chair and rubbed his temples with his fingers as he listened.

  “We have some initial casualty estimates coming in from Biała Podlaska, Poland. So far approximately a hundred people are dead with twice that number wounded. Fires are still burning out of control in the center of the city as emergency responders are overwhelmed by the violence of the attack and the destruction that has taken place.”

  General Sadowski appeared ready to explode, but said nothing. He turned and left the situation room.

  * * *

  General Sadowski shook his head as he boarded his plane to the South Pacific. Not engage the enemy? he thought. And since when do we let Russia fight our battles for us, even if it’s terrorists? Final count was 127 people dead in Biała Podlaska with 283 wounded. Totally unacceptable, he reminded himself.

  He secured the seatbelt as the G650 jet began to taxi. The rest of his staff were waiting on the plane when he arrived.

  “The second missile test is ready,” his aide said. “Just waiting on us.”

  General Sadowski nodded and looked out the window.

  This has to change, he thought.

  He looked at his staff and considered the advanced capabilities of the new interceptor missile.

  This will change, he decided. Soon.

  * * *

  Rosaq reviewed the reports of enemy vehicles moving slowly through the tunnel system.

  Probes, he thought. According to the electronic emissions evaluation, each vehicle was sending a position record back to the base in northern New Mexico.

  They’re mapping out the tunnel system, he realized. Even at the slow rate the vehicles were moving, eventually they would get enough information to begin to understand the extent of the Zeta Grey presence on their planet. That eventuality must be avoided. The more they knew about the Zeta Grey presence the higher the risk of completing his plan would be. For everything
to work properly, the humans had to be kept in a relative state of ignorance.

  He sent out telepathic messages for his workers to use high-speed transports to intercept the slow-moving vehicles in the tunnels and vaporize them. He needed to keep the tunnel system open to move his workers around the planet.

  * * *

  General Sadowski looked suspiciously at Conrad Kaplan. He had heard rumors that there was an arrest warrant for Kaplan in connection to the attempted assassination of Andrews. He quietly debated which was more important to him: capturing Kaplan, or getting the new interceptor missiles in place.

  Kaplan was vice president of operations in the second largest defense contractor in the country, and personally ran the research division. If the new missile performed as expected, Kaplan’s company could easily become the primary contractor, at least for the army. Every branch of the military wanted in on the new missile. The air force was launching the ICBM and the navy would launch the interceptor. Sadowski was most interested in acquiring the new interceptor for the anti-missile bases around Russia.

  Kaplan seemed to exude confidence and enthusiasm, but was avoiding the usual sales hype, which was unusual in itself.

  “Commencing launch sequence,” the range commander announced.

  Flames and smoke blasted from the two bottom exhaust tunnels just before the ICBM rose out of its silo.

  “We have launch. Satellite detection confirmed . . . Tracking . . . Trajectory confirmed . . . Interceptor missile has been launched.”

  Sadowski glanced at Kaplan. He didn’t trust civilians—too greedy. But if this missile could provide the army with the promised advantage over the ICBM threat, he’d deal with the devil himself. He watched the ICBM on the main display screen as the telescope followed it, rising rapidly in its boost phase. In a matter of three more minutes it would be in outer space, far from the reach of any other missiles.

  The Russian breach of the Polish border yesterday and the murder of so many civilians still haunted him, especially in his parent’s home town of Biała Podlaska. He had cousins, nieces, and nephews living there whom he had never met. President Andrews’s cooperative approach with the Russians added insult to an already embarrassing situation for the army. He needed something decisive and deadly that didn’t have the extensive protocols that came with nuclear weapons. If this new interceptor missile worked, it just might change everything.

  “Interceptor has locked onto the target,” the range commander said. “Closing . . .”

  The ICBM exploded, upper and lower sections spinning in the air, and tumbling from its flight path. Sadowski nodded. Like it or not, it was time to make a deal with the devil.

  “How long before we can get the new missiles delivered?”

  Kaplan turned to face him. “It’s already in production. I can ship two hundred tomorrow.”

  Sadowski nodded. “How much?”

  Kaplan smiled. “I can offer a nice quantity discount. How many missiles do you have in mind?”

  Sadowski glanced at the generals from the air force and the admiral from the navy. Each one had a sales rep from Kaplan’s company talking to them.

  He studied Kaplan’s face for a moment. “Final delivery date for two thousand missiles?”

  Kaplan’s eyebrows popped up. He turned to look at the other officers in the room. “It’ll mean they have to wait for theirs, but if you’re thinking Russia I can make it a priority.”

  “I am,” Sadowski replied.

  “Okay,” Kaplan said. “With priority delivery I can provide four hundred missiles a week for the next five weeks.”

  “And I get the two hundred now with free installation, plus technicians to train my crews,” Sadowski stated firmly.

  Kaplan glanced again at the other officers in the room. “I can do that.”

  Sadowski pursed his lips and nodded. “Everything in five weeks guaranteed?”

  “Absolutely.” Kaplan held out his hand.

  “Deal,” Sadowski said, shaking Kaplan’s hand.

  * * *

  Rosaq reacted quickly to the new report that arrived telepathically from his workers. When they vaporized the enemy vehicles a toxic substance was released. Not only had his workers died, their transports were still in the tunnel system, now contaminated with this strange toxic chemical. He couldn’t even have his workers move the transports out of the way. This was an unexpected complication. These humans were proving to be more trouble than they were worth, but that wasn’t his call to make. His job was to see that the entire planet fell under complete Zeta Grey control. And he would see to it that it did, regardless of these inconveniences.

  The loss of workers and equipment wouldn’t reflect well on his leadership abilities. He knew that. The Insectoid that appointed him to commander wouldn’t be sympathetic to his efforts. A loss was a loss, and the business of the Corporate Alliance had no tolerance for losses. He had no choice but to seal off the tunnels that came from the compromised base in New Mexico. He telepathically connected with the small computer on the self-destruct device hidden in the New Mexico base and activated it.

  Chapter 29

  “While the current administration is still in denial,” reporter Jan Abernathy said, “the fact remains that an extensive column of Russian tanks pursued a vicious and deadly attack on the sovereign nation of Poland.”

  Andrews shook his head.

  “They all have the press release?” Andrews asked.

  “They have,” Franks replied.

  “It’s over!” he shouted at the TV screen hanging on the wall. “It was a group of terrorists. Nothing more. Why are they doing this?”

  “NATO forces were mobilized to repel the attack, which was halted twenty-three miles inside the border of Poland,” Abernathy continued. “We again have our military analyst, retired army general Herbert Greely, with us for more insights into the escalating situation on the border of Poland.”

  “Thank you for having me back, Jan. The situation in Poland continues to degrade. We are witnessing an unprecedented escalation of military forces in Belarus on the border with Poland. This Russian aggression is totally unacceptable to the people of Europe and must be met with the absolute and unmistakable use of deadly force. Nothing short of overpowering and violent retaliation against the Russian thug, Pasternov, is going to stand any chance of success. We must unify the NATO countries and press the conflict deep within the borders of Russia. Pasternov’s military aggression must be met with a devastating response. This is the only language that criminal dictators like Pasternov understand. We must act now, or we will lose all of Europe to the barbaric regime in Moscow.”

  “We have obtained these satellite surveillance images from Russia and Belarus,” Abernathy said.

  The black and white images were from a high perspective, and showed trains in motion to the Brest area of Belarus. The trains were too small to get any detail.

  “These trains are loaded with Russian soldiers, equipment, and munitions for a major assault on Poland,” Greely stated. “President Andrews has been duped by Pasternov’s lies. Andrews’s naive belief that Russia is no longer our enemy has been proven false by the attack on Poland. What is it going to take before Andrews comes to his senses? Will he learn from the destruction of Europe, or will he wait until nuclear bombs rain down on America? The time for action is now, before it’s too late.”

  “What do we have from the NRO?” Andrews asked.

  “Right here,” Peter Newcomb said, as he rushed over to the table in the center of the room.

  “Show me the trains,” Andrews said.

  “Pasternov is scrambling. Infrared images confirm the trains heading west are all empty. Russian troops and equipment are being loaded onto trains and have begun to return to Russia.”

  “Then why is the media showing only the trains headed into Brest?” Andrews asked.

  Newcomb shrugged. “No idea, but the evidence is clear. There is no military buildup on the Russian side. One more thing: I’
ve been studying the images from the attack. There’s an anomaly.”

  “Like what?” Andrews asked.

  “The infrared signature from the tanks firing isn’t correct. This signature matches shoulder fired missiles, not the blast from a tank barrel. My guess is that the tanks were empty, ready for transport back to Russia.”

  Andrews turned to look at him directly. “No munitions?”

  Newcomb shook his head. “Probably not even 12.7 mm rounds for the NSV machine guns.”

  Andrews studied the satellite images and nodded slowly. “It’s a false flag attack. Terrorists gained access to thirty Russian tanks and staged it to appear as a Russian invasion.”

  “A false flag attack necessitates a larger conspiracy, does it not?” Newcomb asked.

  “It does,” Andrews replied.

  “So why is the media hyping an invasion that is clearly not taking place? They have to know it’s not true.”

  Andrews nodded again. “They have to know, don’t they?”

  “Why would they lie? It’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out and the lies are exposed.”

  “Indeed,” Andrews said. “So why lie?”

  * * *

  The explosion rocked the ground under Commander Pedder’s feet. The shock wave sent him tumbling into a wooden building as it collapsed. A wall of dirt and rocks washed over him as he rolled onto his stomach and covered his head with his arms. Rocks rained down, pounding on the remains of the building that covered him. His ears were ringing and he felt disoriented. What the hell just happened?

  The pressure on his chest from the debris on top of him made it difficult to breathe. His SEAL training kicked in allowing him to slow his breath and conserve oxygen. His legs were pinned down by the weight but he could still move one arm. He fished around until he found a piece of rock about the size of his fist and started hitting it against the wood that covered him; three short taps, three longer ones, and three short.