“So I gather the President liked Captain Ragnar?” the General said.
“Absolutely. He thinks my doubts are unwarranted, just my being cynical.”
“But you don’t trust him?”
“No. In fact I think he was accusing Plato of sins that he is guilty of. You trust Plato, don’t you?”
“You don’t become a general in this man’s army while having a strong sense of trust in people –but yes, for the most part I find myself trusting Plato.”
Scarpetti lifted his glass and swished the amber liquid around. “I don’t know if you get the same reports I do, but we are picking up some indications of an upsurge in trouble in the Middle East.”
The general nodded, “Our intelligence officers are reporting that too.”
“In the President’s briefing today I heard something for the first time. I heard that there are whisperings among certain terrorist groups that on one of these ‘many Earths’ Islam is the dominant religion and Muslims rule that world. It is being said that the reason they are not dominant here is because there they were willing to sacrifice for their religion but not here.”
“Oh great! Believing that would only cause them to increase their level of fanaticism.”
Hank Scarpetti pushed the point further, “I suppose that rumor could just be some terrorist leader’s idea to energize his troops. But what if one of our visitors from these other Earths is putting that story out? And if I understand how the histories evolve with these many Earths, it probably is true on some of them.”
General Greene thought about that. “Actually, some military historians believe that if the Turks had won the battle of Lepanto in the late 16th Century then the Ottoman Empire would have pushed further into Europe and we might all be Muslims now.”
Scarpetti laughed, “OK Mr. historian – that wasn’t the point. What if Plato or the Freya Captain or whoever is the leader of The Lucky Dragon is the one putting these stories out?”
“If that is true, then we have a big problem.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I suggested to the President that perhaps we should raise the alert level at our Embassies and Consulates in the areas that are real hotspots – of course that would be most of them in the Middle East right now.”
“How high of an alert?”
“Increase security forces. Send non-essentials home.”
“What did the President say? What about the State Department?”
“He thinks it will blow over. State agreed with him. Of course our dear Secretary of State is still mad at me because I didn’t invite him to the meeting with the Captain of The Freya – who had requested that the meeting be kept private and confidential. And nothing that includes the State Department ever stays private or confidential!”
“I love your internal rivalries – it makes what goes on in the military seem almost genteel.”
“Maybe. But the bottom line is no increase in the alert status for now.”
Chapter Eleven
“The release of atomic energy has not created a new problem. It has merely made more urgent the necessity of solving an existing one.”
--- Albert Einstein
Khalil stared at the cube-like block of a building with the American flag raised above it. From the window of the hotel room he was in it was several blocks away; and he could see that it was dwarfed by several high-rise buildings around it. Yet to him it still manifested the power of The United States of America. The Embassy in Tel Aviv was a hated symbol in the midst of a hated city.
He had seen it many times before. Its impregnability always had struck him like a blow to his stomach. He knew that others like him had wanted to target it, to destroy it. The attempts were not sufficient to the task. Now the task before him seemed so simple.
Khalil had seen the ruins of crusader castles in the desert. Structures once viewed as impenetrable fortresses were now dust-blown skeletons of minor historic interest. In their time they might have seemed monstrous and everlasting to their foes but time moved past them with its withering indifference.
Khalil saw that the powerful block of a building now targeted by this amazing new weapon he had been given was no different than those old crusader castles. Invaders had come to these lands confident and imperious and had built structures they thought would last a thousand years and protect them behind their walls. Such walls could never be built high enough or strong enough, not here where their religion did not belong. Here was the true God who served and guided his followers and instructed them how to deal with such infidels.
Inside that not so impregnable building Khalil knew were hundreds of people, some of whom…many of whom he knew were innocents, Muslims like himself. They had to die today with all the others. It was necessary, Khalil believed. In the past days he had come to truly understand what was necessary for Islam here to rule the way Islam ruled in that other Earth that Hasan had showed him. The vision in Hasan’s iPad-like device was now the vision that Khalil carried in his mind. No sacrifice was too great to establish that vision here on this Earth. Khalil admitted to himself that even he had never imagined such a complete victory, but now that was all he could see.
He had listened as hard as he could when Hasan tried to explain to him this idea of other Earths. Nothing in his limited schooling prepared him for it. What was important he decided was that Allah was there. It was like looking up at the star filled night-time sky when out in the desert and knowing that Allah was everywhere out there. So that there were many Earths did not change anything. He knew on this Earth there was a country or a continent or an island, he wasn’t sure which, that was called Australia. It was very far away and he would never go there but he knew it existed. Other Earths were like Australia to him.
He thought of Hasan the same way. He was not from Iran or Syria or Lebanon or any other country that Khalil had ever heard of. But he was a Muslim and an Arab, one look told him that. That Khalil actually knew very little about Hasan did not bother Khalil. They shared what was most important. And Hasan wanted to help Khalil do what Khalil had prayed for help to do. His beliefs were Hasan’s beliefs. More than just beliefs, Hasan shared his anger, his resentment and his cry for vengeance. And now Hasan had shared his weapon, an unbelievably powerful weapon. Khalil had hungered to use it ever since Hasan had first mentioned it.
Khalil had held guns and rifles in his hands since he was a young boy. He had killed his first enemy when he was ten years old. He knew the killing power of weapons; he had watched his older brother die in a street and his father die in a bomb blast. He knew it was just fate that he was still alive and they were dead. He had prayed many times for Allah to give him the strength and the opportunity to avenge their deaths and to serve Allah. Now his prayers were to be answered.
The weapon in his hands was like a larger rifle but not a rifle, more like a Stinger missile, but more streamlined. Its fabrication was a mystery to Khalil, not a plastic nor a metal but something with the characteristics of each. It had a scope which Hassan had said would target the missile. Line up the target in the crosshairs of the scope and the weapon would do the rest. Distance did not matter. Weather conditions would be adjusted for.
Hassan had told Khalil the weapon could be used only once. He had been told that after firing it, he should put it down on the ground or the floor and step away. The weapon would then self-destruct. It would melt down so as to be unrecognizable as a weapon.
Khalil had also been told of its power. The explosion would be concentrated, not a nuclear weapon but similar in destructive force, though limited in scope. It would destroy the targeted building, but not much beyond it. Khalil knew enough of weapons that what he now held in his hands was beyond anything from his Earth. It was from an Earth with advanced technology. It was a gift from Allah to answer his prayers.
Khalil knew he should not be delaying like he was. This moment was so large. His life was about to change and he had to be ready for that. And he was ready now. First he uttered a qui
et prayer. Then he opened the window facing the US Embassy. Now his actions were steady and deliberate. Smoothly he raised the weapon and targeted it on the middle floor at the center of the building. He fired.
The noise was like the clap of two hands and the recoil was insignificant. In the first moment he thought the weapon had misfired. Then the US Embassy exploded. Khalil put the weapon on the floor and watched it seem to vaporize as he left the room.
Out on the street he saw the building collapsing in on itself, like pictures of purposefully demolished old buildings, only more smoke and fire, and a towering blue-tinged cloud above it with a vague mushroom shape. Not quite like the famous mushroom shaped cloud of a nuclear bomb but similar.
Khalil hurried away.
Like millions of others, President Morningstar was watching the cable news footage of the US Embassy explosion and its aftermath. Hundreds of people were reported dead and hundreds more were severely wounded. He was in the Situation Room with his closest advisors. He would allow no one else to see him until he was composed and knew what to say to the media. He remembered that right after 9/11 President Bush was on camera at that Kindergarten or nursery school, or something like that, he couldn’t quite remember, but everything that Bush had said, every expression on his face had been exhaustively, endlessly replayed and analyzed. Now it would be the same for him.
He knew he had to be firm and resolute and commanding. He had to show sympathy and concern for the victims, but more importantly he needed the country to know that he would ensure that justice was done. The perpetrators would be captured and punished. His thoughts were interrupted by his chief political advisor, Barbara Wilcox. She handed him the text of a speech she and her team had been rushing to prepare.
“We’ve got to do this in fifteen minutes. Are you ready to go on camera?”
He looked around at the others in the room and then back to her. “I’m…I’m ready. Of course, I’m ready. I have to do this.”
“Yes, same as always. You’ll be great. Don’t worry.”
“But what about questions afterwards? I have to take a few questions, don’t I?”
“Yes, but just say we don’t know enough yet to comment. Don’t guess or speculate.”
The President’s manner seemed shaky to those in the room, but they were scarcely calmer themselves and no one said anything.
“But what if they ask me about the explosion? Anyone can see on their TV set that that explosion looks different. And that damn cloud above it is a nightmare all by itself!”
Hank Scarpetti spoke up then, “Again don’t speculate. Confirm that it was not a nuclear explosion. But obviously powerful explosives were used. And it was via some sort of a missile. When we know more, we’ll tell them more.”
The President nodded, “OK that’s what I’ll do. But just between us in this room, what the hell was it? And where did it come from? What terrorist group can get their hands on a weapon like that? And are there more of them out there?”
Those were the same questions Scarpetti had been thinking about for the last hour, ever since the reports of the embassy explosion started coming in. He was afraid of the answer that he came up with. He excused himself by saying he had to get back to his office to start handling this crisis. He knew no one in the Situation Room had a clue what to do.
Three hours later General Carl Greene was sitting across from Scarpetti in his White House office. Scarpetti had summoned Greene because he thought the general would be the one best able to discuss what Scarpetti feared most. The general had just sat down when Scarpetti asked, “Where do you think the bomb or whatever it was came from?”
Greene’s answer was immediate, “We don’t have anything that would match the profile of what happened at the embassy.”
“Would anyone else have anything like that?”
“No.”
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Scarpetti looked back at his long-time friend not expecting an answer. “All right, until I say otherwise, everything we are about to talk about is just between you and me. Not really because I know anything, but the subject itself is dangerous – if it gets out to the public, it will be mass panic and riots in the street again.”
General Greene nodded, “I agree. So do you want me to say it first? But you should know, people at The Pentagon are already on to this.”
Scarpetti nodded, “Go ahead…say it.”
“The weapon had to have come from The Bucephalus, The Freya or The Lucky Dragon, but I have no idea which one.”
Scarpetti nodded again, “Plato warned us that bad things were coming. But maybe that was all a cover. He told us not to trust the Captain of The Freya. And Captain Ragnar told us not to trust Plato. Both seemed to think The Lucky Dragon could be formidable but would not act precipitously. So let’s put them aside for the moment – and I haven’t met them yet anyway.”
General Greene smiled ruefully, “This is like that old puzzle, you come across two tribes, one tells the truth all the time and one lies all the time, how do you tell which is which?”
“I never could figure that one out. Besides, in this case they both could be lying. And we don’t really know anything about either of them other than what they tell us.”
General Greene shook his head, “That’s not entirely true. They both told us that their ability to wage war here is very limited because of the crossing dimensions issue. I think they are telling the truth about that. And there’s something else. I’ve spent a fair amount of time with Plato and I think I trust him. You spent a little time with the Captain of The Freya and you did not trust him. That’s something to consider anyway.”
“I’m not betting the future of this world on that.”
Greene shrugged, “Nor would I. But it is a place to start.”
“If you are going to talk to Plato, I’m going too.”
Up on The Freya, Captain Ragnar was meeting with the man Khalil called Hasan. “You were right about choosing Khalil. He did everything as instructed.”
Hasan, whose real name was Erickson, accepted his Captain’s compliment with pride. The Captain was spare with his praise. “He’s a good soldier. Also he has a lot of hate in him. Our researchers were right in suggesting him. Once I met with him the first time, I knew he was the right one. Now what would you like me to do with him?”
Captain Ragnar considered what should come next. “Now we wait and see what we have stirred up. If we chose the correct target, other terrorists will take heart and become more aggressive and deadly. Have you begun to spread the story of how on other Earths Islam is dominant?”
“Yes…that story is being told everywhere. That was a brilliant idea.” Erickson knew the idea had been the Captain’s.
“Then the first stage of our plan is well begun. The next stage will begin soon. We are fortunate to find on this world such a politically turbulent region as the Middle East here. It is perfect for our purposes. Hatred is the best tool of those who seek destruction. For us, chaos is our friend and destruction is a child of chaos.”
Erickson was grateful to be serving on The Freya headed by a Captain like Ragnar. Their homeworld was not rich and opportunities were rare. The planet itself was overpopulated with its ten billion people and its natural resources and ecosystem were literally drying up. What a blessing it had been to discover other Earths both richer and more vulnerable. Better to serve on this pirate ship – officially sanctioned by their government of course -- than to be home with nothing. And it was in his nature to scavenge for leftovers – he had been doing it for far less reward since he was a child. In chaos he had learned was opportunity – opportunity for those who could think clearly and act quickly while all others were still numb and lamenting.
“So what should I work on now?” Erickson asked.
“Go back down and spread the idea that Iran was behind the attack in Tel Aviv against the American embassy. Hint at other targets inside Israel. Our goal is to push Israel to attack Iran or vice-versa. I don’t
care which. Perhaps we can even get them to use their nuclear weapons. That would be excellent.”
“What should I do about Khalil? He is Palestinian not Iranian.” Erickson said.
“Do nothing. Let him claim that he destroyed the Embassy. He has no proof and it will increase confusion – which is better for us to hide our tracks. I think he will act more aggressively in the future.”
“Won’t it be obvious that the weapon Hasan used is too technologically advanced? Isn’t that a problem for us?”
Captain Ragnar was pleased with the question. He liked the intricacy of his plan and wanted to tell Erickson who he knew would then share the plan’s brilliance with the rest of the crew. That was the best way to gain a crew’s admiration.
“Only the leaders of the technologically advanced countries with strong militaries will know – and they won’t tell the others. But they won’t know whether the weapon came from us or The Bucephalus or The Lucky Dragon or even some other Earth hiding in the sky. And they won’t know how many more such weapons are available to be used. Or what other targets there might be. Also, we have just posted on this world’s internet how to substantially increase the destructive power of homemade bombs using available materials. That should prove interesting to observe. I think the terror community will spur each other on – even though their issues and hatreds may be different. There will come a tipping point where counter-terrorism resources are overwhelmed.”
Captain Ragnar considered the outcome he was promoting. His prior actions on prior Earths were not so bold but they had been instructive. Democratic political systems assumed a certain cultural stability and rational behavior. They were structurally ill-equipped to deal with random and rampant rabid dog attacks. The more disorganized and unrelated the attacks were, the harder they were to combat. He considered his plan to be both simple and devastating: arm the crazies and show them success. Among the few who understood such things, the success of The Freya in plundering this Earth would be legendary.
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