by William Lee
“Seventy-four.”
“What? How many can we build per year?” Lisa asked, clearly shocked by this revelation.
“At this time, we can produce about 30 per year. However, this shipment of Element 115 would allow us to increase production to at least 1,500 per year.”
“That’s still not close to enough. How much time do we have until they arrive?” Lisa asked.
“We don’t know exactly. We have not been able to independently confirm the invasion force even exists. However, the intelligence we have been able to gather suggests that they will arrive in about nine years.”
“Okay, I’m just processing this out loud. We can produce 1,500 advanced fighters per year, and we may have nine years to prepare. That’s 13,500 fighters against their 120,000 fighters, not to mention their mother ships.”
“We can only produce the 1,500 fighters if we recover the cargo from Russia. If not, we can only produce 30 fighters per year. Our scientists are working around the clock to discover ways to advance production. Hopefully we will have a break through before it is too late,” Byrd said.
“This is a global problem, is it not? I mean, we all get wiped out if the alien force wins? Why not take this information to the Russians and ask to work together?” Lisa asked.
Everyone grew silent and glanced back and forth at each other.
Byrd said, “You are too young to remember this, and have not been around long enough to have heard about it. But, the last time a person suggested we divulge information to the Russians regarding aliens, a U.S. President was assassinated.”
“You mean Kennedy? That was over aliens?” Lisa sounded shocked.
“Well, disclosing the information that we have about aliens to the Russians, to be precise,” said General Donald Barnes, as he dug a pen into a yellow pad.
“Don’t you think things have changed over the last 50 years? Especially since we are now facing global extinction?”
Byrd interrupted, “That brings me to my next point. As the Impegi was crashing, I launched six nuclear missiles at Russia in an effort to distract them from the crashed ship.”
“Holy shit, you did what?” That outburst was by Fleet Admiral Kevin Butler, MJ-2, the only person that would dare challenge MJ-1 in such a manner. “You could have moved up our extinction event by nine years!”
“I used our new TEPNOS missiles. They are invisible until impact, and they came from space. They were not launched from one of our silos,” Byrd said calmly. “I had to make a quick decision, and it is done.”
“God dammit; I always wanted to nuke Russia. When it comes time for the job, the space cadets get the honors! It just does not pay to be in the Army.” General Barnes slammed his fist on the table. “Next time Russia gets nuked, I got dibs on the trigger.”
“No one is nuking Russia anymore,” the Fleet Admiral said. “What next?”
“I sent an elite team into Russia to recover the Element 115. They should be on the ground any minute,” Byrd said.
“Dammit, once again, I’m out of the loop. My special forces can run circles around your space cadets,” General Barnes said.
“So, let me get this straight. You nuked, and then invaded Russia, without consulting us or the President?” Lisa said in disbelief.
“In a word, yes. But, we are an hour into the mission, and Russia has not blamed anyone. I used low-yield nukes and hit low population areas. Russia is moving assets into the area to investigate, but our men should be able to get in and out before the Russians are fully aware of the true situation.”
Lisa said, “How many assets are the Russians moving to the crash site?”
“It looks like all of them.”
“How many is that?”
“Best we can tell, couple hundred fighters, two carrier groups, three armored divisions, artillery and ground troops. But they are moving very slowly. The roads are impassable due to the weather,” Byrd said.
“They will have air superiority soon,” the Fleet Admiral said. “We have a very short window of time.”
“I agree,” Byrd said. “But, that is not why you are here. Part of the reason I brought you here is to inform you of what happened. The main reason you are here today is to help decide what to do next.”
“What’s that?” Barnes asked.
“Well, there’s trillions of dollars’ worth of cargo sitting in Russia. That cargo, aside from its immense value, is the only way we will be able to defend ourselves in the suspected alien invasion. What are we willing to do to protect it?” Byrd paused for effect. “WWII was fought over far less.”
Barnes said, “You are asking us for a full-scale invasion into Russia? The consequences would be nothing less than World War Three, maybe a nuclear holocaust. The dead would be measured in the billions. It would make WWII look like a walk in the park. But, if you are asking me if we would win? Then, yes, we would. Even if China stepped up, it would be tough; we would take millions of casualties at home, but we would win.” Barnes had a certain glee in his eye, like a kid on Christmas Eve.
Lisa, the newest member, clinching her fists, said, “I can’t believe I am hearing this. You guys are seriously discussing going to war with a nuclear super power over an element used to build air planes. Who cares if we get the element, if half the world is uninhabitable for a thousand years because we started a nuclear war?”
“The mission must be clandestine. We need a backup plan to our backup plan. We need all our assets in the area operational and prepared for action. How do we air lift the cargo out of there?”
“Our latest Aurora project, call name Flying City, is a massive cargo craft capable of transporting 750,000 pounds of cargo. Officially, the plane is designated a Nuclear Powered Antigravity Tactical Transport, or NATT for short. It was designed for delivering heavy cargo directly to the battlefield undetected. Think of the TR-3B, only much larger. It is enrooted to the target destination to retrieve the men and cargo.” Byrd explained.
“Ha. That’s not impressive. The Russians had a cargo plane that could carry almost 600,000 pounds of cargo over 20 years ago,” Donald Barnes said.
“It is impressive. Trust me, this is no An-225 Mriya. While that was impressive for its day, the Flying City carries 200,000 pounds more cargo and has stealth features, including invisibility. But that’s not the special part, this plane uses our latest antigravity technology and flies at Mach Two.”
“Wow. Now that is impressive. You have a plane that can carry over a half million pounds of cargo at 1,500 miles per hour? All while being invisible?”
“That’s right. The antigravity technology means we don’t have to fight gravity for takeoff or while in flight. All power is directed toward directional thrust. If you think that is impressive, we are damn near having an electromagnetic pulse drive that when combined with the antigravity technology, will more than double our speed capabilities.”
Donald Barnes stood up and straightened out his ACU, adjusted his belt, and said, “Gentlemen, this is a good plan, but those Russians are sneaky bastards. This plane may be the answer, but we need a backup plan. We need to have other planes and assets available in the region in case something goes wrong and our boys need back up.”
The group stayed for a few minutes later discussing the plan, then dispersed.
The Governor’s personal cell phone rang again as he walked out of the conference room. He looked down at the number; it was one he recognized.
He swiped the glowing screen and put it to his ear. “Hello Mr. President; this is Governor Robert Fisher.”
“Robert, I have something really important to discuss with you. Do you have a minute?”
“Yes, Sir. I was just sitting here going over some paperwork; I could use the distraction,” Robert lied.
“So, you know, Virginia will have an open Senate seat coming up in a couple of years.”
“Yes, looks like Chuck is looking to retire soon. I heard the party chairman was considering a run?” the Governor replied.
“Yes, but some of us think there is just too much controversy surrounding the chairman. We need a good, middle of the road, populist. Somebody like you, Robert. We have to watch out for our friends in the progressive wing of the party; they seem to be gaining momentum.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. It seems a bit early to start a campaign, but, I would be happy to serve in whatever capacity I can.”
“It’s never too early to start laying the ground work. So, it would be okay for me to float your name as a possible candidate?”
“It would be my honor, Mr. President.”
“Excellent. Let me make a few phone calls. I’ll get back to you in a week or so.” The call ended.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Magadan Oblast
Gliding over the crash site at 125 miles per hour, Snap was in awe at the sight of the massive debris field. The sunless sky reflected enough light to clearly make out large sections of the once great interstellar ship. The ship had broken into three large sections, and all were lying in a long, deep trench that had been dug out as the ship crashed into the ground.
“West, I’m surprised that the ship is this much intact,” Snap said into his COM system.
“Yeah, it’s like a fifty-story building toppled over. If it’ superstructure had collapsed anymore, I’m not sure we would able to locate the cargo.”
“Looks like the bottom five to ten levels have been completely collapsed under the weight of the ship.”
“Major, let’s hope the cargo is not in one of those levels. It will would take weeks with heavy equipment to access those decks.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t think the Russians will let us bring in a couple dozen heavy cranes?” Snap asked, with a chuckle.
“Lightning Squad, commence with landing procedures. Let’s put down fifty yards north of the largest segment of the ship, near the middle of the crash zone.”
“Roger Wilco,” Senior Master Sergeant Williams replied.
“Johnson, do you have control of the landing rover?” Neal asked.
“Yes Sir.”
“How far away is it?”
“Still descending, about 500 yards to the southwest.”
“Can you get it any closer? Time is of the essence, here.”
“Roger that,” Johnson replied.
Snap guided his FIGAS over the crash site again, this time looking for easy access points to the large ship. Snap was also looking for defensible positions in case the Russians arrived. The barren land was covered in icy snow. There were plenty of boulders and rock formations to hide behind, but that would offer no protection against a missile launched from a MiG-31.
“Bob, this is Snap. Could you take the EMP cannon and set up on the south west ridge? Taylor, you go with Bob. If it appears a Russian aircraft spots us through the optical stealth, try and take it out with the EMP cannon. Don’t shoot down a plane unless you suspect they have seen through our invisibility dome.”
“Roger that,” Taylor responded, as he steered his FIGAS unit toward the ridgeline.
Bob followed Taylor to the ridge overlooking the crash site, while the rest of the team landed near the center of the site. No one was injured in the landing and the men easily dismounted from the FIGAS units. As soon as Snap landed and freed himself from the fixed wing, he looked up at the sky to locate the rover that was slowly descending by parachute.
“Johnson, can you get that rover to land inside the trench? We don’t have time to carry it down here if it lands on the ridge.”
“Roger that,” Johnson said. Johnson was operating the flight controls to the parachute from the display on his left forearm. “There, that should do it, we cleared the ridge.”
The rover, the size of a small truck, could travel along a flat surface at 35 miles per hour. Rather than having tires, it had tank treads. The primary purpose of the rover was to transport the 2,150-pound Projected Invisibility Dome, but it was also carrying other equipment to assist in the recovery.
Snap, standing next to Johnson, said, “There it is,” as he pointed to the rover as it slammed into the earth. “Moore, Martin, go recover the rover.”
“I think I can guide it in from the controls on my display,” Johnson said, as he tapped the screen on his forearm.
“Johnson, no, let them go help recover it. It may be caught on a rock or something. They can help guide it in. We may not have time for any mistakes.”
“Major Slade, I just received the data download with instructions on how to set up the PID, I’m pretty sure I can handle this,” Jackson said.
“I just received an update; Russian fighters are 30 minutes out. We have to get this set up, now.”
Senior Master Sergeant Josh Miller ran up to Snap, holding a compact, laser range finder in his left hand. “We have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, the ship was originally 1,700 feet long and several hundred feet tall.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The debris field is over 3,000 feet long and 400 feet wide.”
“And, the punch line?” Snap asked.
“The PID only projects a holographic dome over 900 feet of space.”
“What the fuck, how did somebody miss that? General Byrd, are you still listening to this? This is going to be one short mission!” Snap yelled into his HUD.
“I’m still here. Calm down. We will think of something,” General Byrd reassured them from the comfort of the Moon Base.
“It better be quick. The Mig is 20 minutes out. They might just see us hanging out in their backyard and drop a bomb on us.”
“I have a tech here, and he is advising me that the dome can be reconfigured to be shaped more like a rectangle. This will cover more of the craft. You said the debris filed was 3,000 feet long and 400 feet wide?”
“Basically. There are some outliers, but most of the wreckage fits in those dimensions.”
“Okay, our models here are saying that we can recalibrate from a 900-foot dome to a 2,000-foot-long rectangle. That narrows the width to the 400 feet you need.”
“But it still leaves 1,000 feet of the wreckage exposed to the sky.” Snap said.
“I understand. We are going to have to make some tough decisions here in the next couple of minutes. You flew down from the sky, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Which means you saw exactly what the Russian pilot is going to see, correct?”
“Yes”
“Wrong, Major Slade. You knew what you were looking for, and you knew exactly where it was located. The Russian pilot has thousands of miles of land to search over for an unknown object.”
“I see your point, General. But still, this is a space ship, it kinda sticks out.”
“Okay, but what was the first thing you saw as you descended on the site?”
“The control tower, it sticks up higher than everything else,” Snap replied.
“Good, then what?”
“The largest intact section of the super structure, set in the middle of the wreckage.”
“Good, what was the last part you noticed?” the General asked.
“The smaller debris fields surrounding the three main pieces,” Snap said.
“There you go, set up the PID so that it covers the control tower, the large section of the super structure and anything else you can cover.”
“What then?”
“Sit tight and hope the Russian pilot, which is flying at over 900 miles per hour, misses it. Their analysts will see it eventually, but hopefully, it buys you a couple of hours without Russian paratroopers. Good Luck.”
“Damn it,” Snap whispered.
Snap focused his attention on the men retrieving the rover. “We need to move the rover over there,” Snap said, pointing at the largest section of the super structure.
“Position it closer to the tower, and line it up near the center of the trench.”
“Jackson, we need to calibrate this thing to cover a 2,000-foot-
long rectangular shape.”
“That’s not going to be enough.”
“It’s the best we can do,” Snap responded.
“Oh shit,” Jackson said, shaking his head.
“Lightning Squad, Johnson is going to configure the PID to conceal most of the crash site. We are not going to be able to ghost the whole thing. All we can hope for is that the Russians will miss it on their first pass. The rest of you, grab your equipment from the rover and start looking for the Element 115. Schematics of the ship have been down loaded to your HUD.”
“Where are you going to be?” Neal asked.
“I’m going to be out here with Jackson. Bob and Taylor will be monitoring the Russian radio transmissions as they fly over. We may be having some fireworks soon; so, keep your eye out in the debris for anything that might prove helpful.”
“Roger that, Major.”
The men of Lightning Squad grabbed their equipment and started off to the dangerous mission of sifting through debris, looking for the unstable Element 115. Johnson stood at the rear of the rover, in front of the control panel, tapping on a weather resistant keyboard.
“Bob, any movement up on the ridge?”
“Negative, Major.”
“Stay down. We have our first fly over in five minutes.”
“Roger that,” Bob said.
“Jackson, how are we doing on the PID?”
“Just about done. There we go. Ready to light up the Christmas tree?”
“Hell yeah, let’s do a Houdini before this Russian bird flies by,” Snap said.
Mark Jackson dramatically smashed down the button on the keyboard, and nothing happened.
“What the fuck was that?” Snap asked.
“I don’t know. It should have worked.”
“Do I have to remind you that a Russian MiG-31 carries dozens of missiles?” Snap asked, sarcastically.
Jackson was frantically pounding at the key board, but nothing seemed to work. Snap looked over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the men were already inside the downed space ship. Snap took a deep breath and walked around the rover, examining it closely.
The PID was built into the rover, so that it was really one device. The equipment had been stored in saddle bag type compartments on the outside of the rover. The rover itself was constructed mainly of steel and had been painted white. Sitting above the tank-like treads was a large armored container-like structure affixed to the rover platform that stood about seven feet high. On the side of the rover was a hand lever; above it was written ‘pull to activate.’
