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by Richard Stephenson

  When Iranian forces crossed the border into Iraq, the world again looked to the United States for salvation. With his country in the Second Great Depression, President Powers decided to sit this one out and let somebody else step up for a change. The European Union was not happy with its most valued ally. Many countries in Europe severed diplomatic relations with the United States and publicly branded the president a coward. With the insults pouring in and public outcry from his own citizens, President Powers still managed to send billions of dollars to aid the war effort. For the first time in its history, the European Union consolidated all of its armies into one fighting force to combat the growing threat of Iran.

  Iran was not impressed or intimidated by the European Army. Iran held the nation of Israel as a nuclear hostage and kept the European Army at bay. They also had managed to carry out something before thought impossible. They unified the Middle East and amassed a formidable army of Muslim warriors. The only thing the European Army could manage to accomplish facing the superior force was to protect its own borders from invasion. Having already gained control of Iraq, Iran surveyed the rest of the Middle East with very lofty goals of expansion. For the first time in the history of the world, Iran could boast that they managed to topple the nation of Afghanistan. The Soviet Union and the United States had both tried and failed. Celebrating themselves as liberators, the Americans claimed that they never had intentions of conquering the Afghan people. Considering it the excuse of losers, Iran laughed at the claim. After Afghanistan came Pakistan and then the western borders of India. Considering India too costly a challenge, Iran settled in and joined ranks with China and the United States as a superpower. The Great Empire of Iran signed a treaty with the European Union, promising to leave the Union’s border alone in exchange for maintaining control of all conquered territories. The Europeans had little choice but to agree.

  Controlling a very large share of the world’s oil, Iran refused to export any of it to the United States. This move only sank the United States deeper into the Second Great Depression with gas prices soaring above ten dollars a gallon. The American people complained constantly about the outrageous cost, but were willing to pay it if it meant they didn’t have to send their sons and daughters to be killed in the Middle East

  The Great Empire of Iran could not sit still for very long and began to look to Saudi Arabia and Egypt as ripe for the picking. This was reminiscent of the Nazis who had the right idea when it came to conquest; they just lacked the resources that the Empire had at its disposal. When Iran began to move its vast Army of devout Muslim warriors along the border of Saudi Arabia in clear violation of its own treaty, President Powers had little choice but to join Europe to stop the invading army. The European and American militaries joined to become the Allied Forces.

  For two years the Iranians fought for control of Saudi Arabia but the Allied Forces kept them at bay. The Iranian Army won control of the crucial Port of Gibraltar, gateway to the Mediterranean Sea, early in the war and defended it at all costs. The Allied Forces knew that to win the war, they would have to get their ships into the Mediterranean and move with all due haste to the shores of Tel Aviv, ready to strike at the heart of the Empire. The Fifth Fleet was positioned in the middle of the Indian Ocean waiting for this to happen, ready to move into the Persian Gulf to flank the Empire from both sides, no doubt ending the war.

  The Roosevelt Strike Group and one of her vessels, the USS James Russell, launched an all-out attack on the Port of Gibraltar. After two days of intense naval battle, the likes of which had not seen since the Second World War, the James Russell managed to gain control of the port and awaited orders. After deliberating with the Joint Chiefs and Director Jimenez, the president was confident that Iran was only bluffing about Israel and would not destroy the only leverage that kept the rest of the world from directly attacking them.

  He gave the orders and the USS James Russell and what was left of the Strike Group entered the Mediterranean. Twelve hours into its journey, Iran called the bluff and detonated a low-yield nuclear bomb just outside Tel-Aviv. The bomb didn’t level the city, but served as a warning shot to show the Allied Forces that they were not bluffing. The Empire gloated that the device had been detonated on its previous owner.

  The president ordered the James Russell and its Strike Group to remain on station until they could figure out their next move. They hoped that stopping its advance would satisfy the Empire and prevent any more destruction. The Iranian fleet, already underway in an attempt to retake Gibraltar, met up with the Allied fleet to prevent them traveling any closer to the Empire. The standoff lasted for thirty-six hours until the Iranians began to fire shots over the fleet in an attempt to either intimidate them into turning around or taunt them into engaging in battle. The USS James Russell returned fire, sinking one of the Iranian vessels. The vessel sank the enemy ship not realizing that an Iranian submarine had the drop on them. A torpedo was fired on the James Russell, crippling her. The Strike Group, not realizing that the Iranians had submarines in the area, had little choice but to retreat and escorted the crippled vessel back to the Port of Gibraltar. With a foothold to the Mediterranean Sea, the Allied Forces finally had the upper hand and were within striking distance to end the war.

  Fleet Admiral Mack continued to address the men and women seated in the Clinton Room. “The Enterprise and the George Washington are three days from the Port of Gibraltar awaiting your orders, Mr. President.”

  “Thank you, Admiral.” President Powers had ordered the two aircraft carriers and their support vessels to remain on station. They had been situated in the middle of the Atlantic for eighteen hours. President Powers had given the order so he could convene this meeting.

  The president looked to his right and addressed the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. “Roberto, what can we expect once we reenter the Mediterranean?”

  The grumpy old man in the wheelchair scowled at hearing his first name. Director Jimenez did not like the president; he never had and never would. He did not appreciate the president’s attempts at being on a first name basis with him. His efforts were neither endearing nor welcome. He tolerated the president because he liked the man’s politics. He just didn’t like him on a personal level. He found the man arrogant and conceited, traits he found to be true in most military officers.

  The seventy-two year old had lost the use of his legs in his battle with multiple sclerosis. He had adjusted to life in a wheelchair with some reluctance. He spent many years walking with a cane; however, after suffering several falls and constant badgering from his wife, he finally relented. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began.

  “Thank you, Mr. President. Based on our latest intelligence, we know for certain that the Empire has three remaining nuclear devices holding the same yield as the one detonated outside of Tel-Aviv.”

  “How close are we to recovering the three devices?” the president asked.

  Roberto paused, thought for a second, looked up at the ceiling and asked, “Mr. President, may I?”

  “Yes, of course. Computer, establish a secure connection with the CIA and grant Director Jimenez full access.”

  At the request of the president, Howard Beck had installed the A.I. in his office and granted clearance to only the president. The A.I. would respond to the White House staff and visitors but only on a limited basis, essentially serving two functions. First, it acted as a very polite host, opening doors and answering and placing phone calls. Second, the A.I. would perform internet searches, essentially making the multi-billion dollar computer the world’s most expensive desktop. Beck also established a secure, one way link with the A.I.s at the Department of Defense and the CIA. President Powers didn’t trust Director Jimenez as far as he could throw him, wheelchair included. He knew the old spook couldn’t resist the temptation to tap into the White House A.I. so he could spy on the Oval Office. He was sure the crusty old bastard had tried to do so many, many times.

  Robe
rto was certain that Howard Beck could control the A.I. he personally installed in the White House. He guessed that the crazy billionaire had been listening to the very conversation in which he was partaking. Not long after the installation of the smooth talking female computer, he insisted that the president have his best people analyze the system to make sure it could not be controlled from the Rocky Mountains. The president saw this as an opportunity to show the American people that his trusted friend had not betrayed their friendship and lied to him. He immediately dared the top spy to do his worst. After six weeks, the Director announced in a press conference that he could say with total certainty that the White House A.I. could only be controlled by whomever was sitting in the Oval Office. Jimenez still didn’t trust Howard Beck as far he could throw the odd man, fancy computers and all.

  The smooth, female voice of the White House A.I. responded to the president. “Yes, Mr. President. Please standby.” A few seconds elapsed. “Link established. Good morning, Director Jimenez.”

  Director Jimenez did not return the greeting. He hated computers, especially this one. The fact that the president gave his A.I. a female voice was a source of many jokes in the entertainment world. His favorite was a skit on Saturday Night Live that depicted the president falling in love with his computer. In the skit they even gave the computer the name “Monica,” referring to the scandal involving President Clinton and his former intern. President Clinton was on the Supreme Court at the time and had made a controversial ruling. Something about the scandal, Roberto couldn’t recall the details, had some connection to the name Monica and the old scandal was dusted off to make the circuit on the late night TV talk shows.

  Years ago when the computers at his home and office had been upgraded to interact with him vocally, Roberto finally felt like the technology was simple enough for him to use.

  “Computer, display the latest intelligence on the Great Empire of Iran.”

  The wall on the other side of the room sprang to life; everyone shifted in their seats to see the large, detailed map of the Iranian Theater, upon which every military asset, both friendly and enemy alike, could be seen.

  The Director continued. “As you can see, the Iranians have completed construction on their fifth nuclear bunker deep in the mountains of Afghanistan.”

  After seizing control of Iraq, the Iranians immediately used their newfound wealth to construct an impenetrable bunker four hundred feet underground. The Americans had finally destroyed the ones on their home soil in 2013, and the Iranians were desperate to begin construction on a new one. Nothing in the world could penetrate it, including the most powerful bunker buster ever built. As they continued to control more and more oil fields, the Iranians built three identical bunkers and had completed construction of a fifth one that made the first four look like underground parking garages.

  The Director began to hack and cough. He reached for the glass of water in front of him and drank. Once he was confident the coughing fit was over, he continued in a raspy voice. “With construction of the fifth bunker complete, the Empire has the capability of developing a nuclear device nearly triple the current yield of their warheads.”

  Everyone in the room immediately looked to each other in disbelief. The first to speak was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  “What? Why the hell didn’t we take out the facility when we had the chance?” Carl Moody regretted the question the instant it left his mouth. He already knew the answer, as did everyone in the room. The Chairman was afraid to speak another word for quite some time in fear of embarrassing himself further.

  Reining in as much contempt and sarcasm as he could, Director Jimenez answered the question. “Because, General, it can’t be done. The first bunker they built is the weakest one of the five, and we have yet to so much as scratch it.”

  The Director was indeed correct. The European Army had made several attempts to destroy it in the early stages of the war and never came close. They had even sent a team of undercover spies to try to infiltrate the facility to destroy it from the inside. Captured, the team of spies was brutally tortured. Their deaths were broadcast across the Internet.

  The president, playing referee and getting back on point, continued. “Roberto, going back to my original question about the three warheads they now possess…”

  The Director, again irritated with the use of his first name, smiled at the president, “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “What is the possibility that the Iranians would break the three warheads down and build one really big device?”

  “That’s a good question, sir, one that I had myself.” Jimenez gave another taunting look at General Moody as if to say, “See there? That’s the type of question that should be asked, you stupid grunt.”

  The Director continued to address the president. “Based on our intelligence, we believe the Empire has the capability of breaking down the warheads into a larger, more powerful one. However, to do so would seriously diminish their threat in the region. Putting all their nuclear eggs in one basket would mean that they could wipe Paris or London from the map. If they did so they would, however, not have any remaining nuclear devices. It would take six months to a year for them to produce another one, during which time they would be vulnerable to invasion.”

  “Doesn’t make strategic sense,” General Weygandt spoke up, not really asking a question, simply stating the facts. “If I were them, I would take the three devices I had and split them into six. The yield wouldn’t be enough to level a city, but it could still kill thousands of people and would instill twice the fear.

  “An excellent observation that had not occurred to me, General. Well done.” Roberto smiled at General Weygandt and then quickly shot another menacing glare at the chairman. The seventy-two year old was acting like a schoolyard bully.

  The president almost laughed at the chairman, who was clearly letting the old man get the best of him. Carl was not hard to rile up; anyone could push his buttons, that is, outside of the military. No one in uniform would dare mock the second-in-command of the United States military. Again playing peacemaker, the president asked, “Where do they stand on completing an ICBM?”

  The director did not need to ask the computer, he knew the answer, “The estimates remain the same, at least fifteen months. Their test launches barely make it into the upper atmosphere.”

  This was what the president feared the most. The thought of the Iranians delivering a nuclear device to an American city kept him up at night. The president and everyone in the room also had nightmares about the terror attacks they now faced on their own soil with alarming frequency. September 11, 2001, was a day they all remembered well. The mere thought that the most powerful nation on earth could be attacked on their home soil was something they had never dreamed of on September 10, 2001. Everyone in the room thought back to the day the Twin Towers fell as the beginning, a prophecy of things to come.

  The president addressed both the Secretary of Homeland Security and the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Warren Gill. The two had grown accustomed to being addressed at the same time, like they were a couple.

  “Gentlemen, how are things on the home front?”

  “To put it bluntly, Mr. President, not good.” Secretary Laferriere never held his punches. The president had hired him because he wasn’t a “yes-man” who told him what he wanted to hear or sugarcoated his answers. The secretary leaned back in his chair and looked to his close friend, Warren Gill.

  The FBI Director took his cue and began. “Our soil is being attacked on two fronts. Domestic terrorists are the hardest for us to capture. The Empire continues to activate sleeper cells around the country, and we almost never see them coming until it’s too late. We have seen some progress capturing the waves of Silent Warriors that make it across our 7,612 mile borders. The majority of the terrorist invaders have no identification of any kind, not so much as a fake driver’s license. They avoid the major cities and the National Guard checkpoin
ts, and well, we don’t know what they are doing.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Stacy Reid, the president’s Chief of Staff asked.

  “Well, ma’am, they aren’t like anything we’ve seen in the past. Our best estimate is that Iranian submarines bring them over and they just swim right up to deserted beaches with nothing but the clothes on their backs. We also have credible evidence that large numbers of enemy forces are simply walking into the country from Mexico. Most of those we captured welcome torture and are hard to crack. A few have told us that they’re set loose on our shores with no plan of attack whatsoever; they are told to be creative and improvise.”

  “Hard to stop an attack that has no intelligence to track until the damned thing happens,” the CIA Director managed to bark in a raspy voice.

  Secretary Lafferiere nodded in agreement.

  The president focused his attention back on Jimenez, “Roberto, what do we know about Bunker Five? Any indication that they’re planning some sort of attack for us here at home?”

  The director turned his attention back to the screen, “Computer, display image of Bunker Five, begin playback from six months ago and show the progress in high-speed, ending with the most current image. Compress playback to sixty seconds.”

  The interactive image of the Iranian Theater remained on the screen and a new window opened in the bottom left corner, far too small for anyone to see. The Director had forgotten to close the first screen.

  “Son of a bitch,” the Director cursed under his breath. Roberto Jimenez hated to give the appearance that he was the stereotypical senior citizen that didn’t know how to work a computer. “Enhance.”