by Jaime Mera
No sooner had she laid her head and closed her eyes when an urgent rustle and knock on the door put her back on alert. “Enter.”
A lamp in the corner kept the room from total darkness as Sergeant Jennings opened the door sticking his head only enough to expose his nose and mouth past the edge of the door. “Ma’am, the ADA Officer is saying a large number of enemy aircraft are approaching slowly, Colonel Davis told me to get you.”
“I’ll be right there.” Brenda quickly bundled her hair, put on her ACU (Army Combat Uniform) top, load bearing equipment, Kevlar helmet and walked down the hall into the command center with Sergeant Jennings by her side.
“What’s going on Colonel?” Brenda’s voice was clear, almost seductive if she had talked softer.
Two projectors and four flat screens were stacked in twos in front of a large rectangular table. Four live feeds of aerial surveillance was normally being displayed, but this time, one of the 42” screens showed radar contacts in their airspace. “Two-hundred aircraft are approaching from the south.” Colonel Jones stated, getting his analysts to update the status on the tracking board, used in case they lost power due to an EMP.
“So, it’s true they can launch aircraft from orbit.” Brenda calmly added.
“Ma’am, they’re maintaining a high altitude above Gaza and our location.” CW3 Pirie held reports in his hand as he moved from his station to one of three main swivel chairs Brenda was at.
“What do you think they’re doing?” Command Sergeant Major Bergen asked.
“Sergeant Major, they could be waiting for an opening in our ADA umbrella.” Chief Pirie replied.
“Ma’am, they’re jamming us.” A radio operator reported from across the room.
Music could be heard on the speakers on all frequencies. “What happened to our secure comms and what is that?” The Colonel asked.
“Sir, the frequency hopping and laser refractors should be working, but they’re using a completely different sequence. And the music is Bon Jovi.” Captain Raulins, the Signal Officer reported.
Brenda stayed quiet, thinking about the quick adaptation by the South Americans to change everything they were initially programmed to do in their operations orders and procedures. “They know everything they planned is compromised?” She whispered to herself as ‘Keep the Faith’ was being played in the background.
Three Hawk fighters descended rapidly from eighty-thousand feet, almost in a dive, as ground-to-air missiles and gun batteries started to receive particle beam fire from orbit, punching fist size holes through their systems. Not all systems were destroyed as flashes of light and bangs disrupted the night sky. A colorful mix of green and white beams sprinkled a fifty mile radius from the center of Sderot city. Radio reports came in from the surrounding air defense locations as sonic booms and continual roaring of splitting air sounded above their heads. Windows cracked and the ground vibrated as a Hawk fighter hugged the neighborhood, waking everyone into a panic.
Most Soldiers in the TOC cupped their ears or ducked out of reflex, but recomposed themselves to focus back on their duties. The Hawk fighter was making a circular pattern with two more sonic booms and a decrease of thunderous engine noise above the city.
“Ma’am, Raptors will intercept in one minute.” The Air Officer reported.
“Let’s hear what they’re saying.” Brenda replied, as the Hawk fighter made its presence known with a continuous distant roar. Two Hawk fighters never flew below forty thousand feet, returning back up into a high orbit, baiting fire away from the fighter which was now causing the deafening commotion.
“Raider Three, approaching bogie.” The F-35 Lightning pilot said over the radio.
“Roger, path is clear.” The Combat Controller replied.
“Have a lock on bogie, engaging.”
The TOC watched the radar display, showing ten Raptors approaching from the west, but the Hawk fighter was not visible for ten seconds as if it was evading radar. The Hawk fighter was no less than two miles from their location as it turned and sped off to the west. Air to air missiles from the Raptors easily overtook the Hawk fighter as the pilot reported a hit on the bogie. The ten Raptors replaced the thunderous noise over the city, but quickly dispersed as the US fighters flew slow circular patterns.
“What just happened there?” CSM Bergen asked, his mystified strong face revealed a rare occurrence in his tenure as a professional non-commissioned officer.
“Chief, you and Captain Lufner find out why that jet went through all that trouble to get shoot down by our planes?” Brenda ordered Chief Pirie and the Combat Controller Officer teams to investigate.
“Ma’am, we have several units in this area. Maybe they had eyes on what happened there.” Colonel Jones pointed to a grid square on the map of their Area of Operation.
Brenda watched the wings of Hawk fighters leave the airspace, half up beyond their capacity to track into orbit and the other half flew off to the west. “Make sure all of this is reported to higher. The morning update is in two hours, so I need some answers before then.”
The TOC jumped into action with new guidance, as Brenda removed her helmet; placing it on the table in front of her. “Ma’am, you’ve been up for almost two days, you should get some sleep.” CSM Bergen said.
“I’ll wait for the units to report what they saw.” Her eyes were tired, but she managed to disguise it with a firm voice and look down at her watch.
“We lost a lot of ADA systems because of that.” Bergen passed the unit equipment reports, most in red or amber status.
“It’s not like them to sacrifice a pilot to get us to react.”
Colonel Jones sat next to the two leaders. “Ma’am, initial reports from Echo 4-45th ADA Battery say they saw the fighter slow down very close to tree top level and then speed up to flee before the Raptors came over head.”
“See if you can contact the Israelis. They might have something for us if the plane went down in Gaza. If not, then it’s in the Med. Find out if we can send two A-teams to investigate the area where the plane slowed down at.” Brenda caught herself mid yawn.
“Do you think the plane landed or tried to land?” Colonel Jones asked.
“Our Raptors can land vertically so maybe they can too, but that was very quick and maybe they couldn't land like you said. But I need the teams to confirm or deny these speculations.” Brenda held in another yawn.
“Ma’am, we’ll find the answers and get you up to speed during the morning brief.” CSM Bergen took her helmet and held it up towards Sergeant Jennings who was sitting in the back as one of her bodyguards, but swiftly moved to take possession of the helmet.
“I agree with the Sergeant Major, Ma’am. We can hold the fort.” Colonel Jones stood up, making a path for Brenda to return to her room.
“You guys are worse than my parents; wake me up in an hour.” She stood up, rubbing her eyes with a thumb and index finger.
“So which teams are ready to investigate, Sergeant Major?” Brenda heard them talking as she walked away through a side door and into a hallway, down to her room.
Five other doors along the corridor opened to command staff rooms. Hers and Colonel Jones’ were closest to the TOC. “Make sure you get me up no later than zero five thirty.” Brenda stepped into her room, taking the helmet from Jennings.
“Darnel and I will be ready after the brief to take you to division, Ma’am.”
“Thank you Tim.” Brenda closed the dark brown door and quickly removed her gear, falling fast asleep.
The morning brief came too soon as Brenda drank strong coffee and ate a power bar. South American forces were not advancing east of Cairo and communication outside of Israel and Jordon was sketchy or non-existent. The A−teams reported nothing out of place in the area, and the Hawk fighter’s partial remains of fuselage went down in the Gaza strip. “The Israeli’s are saying the fighter’s internal munitions detonated, incinerating more than half of the plane. It will take a week or more for a complete inve
stigation and concrete findings.” Chief Pirie reported.
Her morning brief was short, giving Brenda more time to prepare for the division commander’s update. She, Jennings and the driver, Sergeant Darnel Moshe left the building parking lot minutes after the brief.
Traffic was very low, as many people stayed home or were stuck where ever they ended up for the night as the curfew was still in effect. The armored Hummer rolled down the street with Brenda in the back seat. Foot patrols roamed the streets and guarded checkpoints along major intersections littered their route. The windows of the Hummer were partially down making for better visibility of the surroundings. They were behind the forward line of own troops, meaning they were in friendly territory which allowed them to drive with minimal security and lack of escorting vehicles. If something did happen, a quick reactionary force was ready to respond to any enemy insertion.
Dawn was on them with the east Sun slowly revealing colorful Israeli homes, buildings and plush landscape. Three blocks down the road, Sgt. Moshe stopped at a red flashing light to turn left, then north towards Helets, where Lt. Gen Baxter’s command post was located.
Moshe looked both ways down the streets catching movement in the corner of his left eye. He turned to see an Israeli Soldier not more than four feet away toss a small object inside; hitting the ceiling of the cab. The golf ball size canister exploded like a small firecracker with a puff of white gas filling the interior. The Israeli Soldier’s Tavor assault rifle butt end hit Moshe’s Kevlar helmet forcing his head towards the concentration of gas.
Sgt. Jennings opened his door and jumped out while holding his breath. He managed not to fall on his face and took positive control of his rifle. Thumping steps on top of the Hummer were all he could react to, looking up to see the Soldier’s boot sole miss his head, falling heavy on his rifle. The Soldier’s weight bared on top of Jennings as fingers wedged in between his ballistic chest plates and waistline. His lower abdomen caved in, not ready for the blow forcing him to exhale.
Brenda likewise held her breath after inhaling a small whiff. As she opened her passenger rear door, she heard the running feet on top of the Hummer. By the time her feet were halfway on the curve the Soldier in an Israeli uniform was over Jennings; popping another palm size canister near his face. Brenda stepped away from the vehicle withdrawing her pistol. She had to focus on her feet not to trip on the curve and get away from the gas. Before she could raise the handgun to aim, the assailant hit her hand with a smooth motion of both his hands disarming her. The wetness of a brown cloth covered her nose and mouth as the Soldier pushed her to the ground. In less than a few seconds, her helmet and LBE was removed. The man’s strong hands and arms knew where to move so her head didn’t bang on concrete as he placed her in a fireman’s carry. As she was lifted she caught a glimpse of the Hummer slowly moving forward on idle and Jennings lying motionless by the curve.
She felt being laid into the back of a spacious vehicle before blacking out.
Chapter 16
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On Schedule
Palace Reception Chamber, Apex, Capital of Australia
Caricaturing finger nails scratched the wooden armchair digging into the grain. “You told me the force field generator would be operational, but people from your department say otherwise.” Datan Varken’s mesh of wrinkled skin on his face was deceptive. His superhuman ultraviolet energy powers dried his skin into deep cracks, but it would heal in hours giving him back a fresh light tan complexion. The cycle would occur eight to ten times a day depending on his mood and strain to use his powers. Today was one of those days as his dark silver eyes bared down on Director Quinn.
The director’s collar felt tight even though it was unbuttoned. His large belly was covered with a draping light green lab coat. He stood six feet tall which made him seem like a giant bouncer. The puffy lips, bald head and small eyes gave him a typical mad scientist quality. But he was far from mad or technically endowed. His expertise was in motivating people and getting results. “Your Excellency, the generator will be operational in seventy two hours.”
“No, Director.” Datan stood up, his black duster dragged along the gold fiber carpet. His rusty moderately long hair waved slightly on every step. “You will be operational in forty-eight hours. Field Marshall Zumari has assured me his technicians will assist the effort.”
Quinn turned his eyes to the Pylaxian representative, but quickly diverted them back to Datan, Dictator of Australia.
“Your Excellency, would it not be more prudent to have the visitors repair their spaceship?” Quinn hesitantly suggested.
Datan stepped into Quinn’s personal space. He stood a foot taller than the director casting a grim shadow over the man. “The ship is repaired. Focus on the task or I will replace you.”
“Yes, your Excellency we will finish on time.” Quinn trembled for a moment, showing it in his voice and hands.
Datan turned to Field Marshal Zumari. “Field Marshal, you may proceed.”
Field Marshal Zumari’s alien silicon based body with very bright natural colors of his skin made him seem to be made of shiny plastic. His body was half insect and half human standing eight feet tall. The chest and abdomen were human like with a horse shaped waist extending backwards a few feet to accommodate four insect like legs. At the ends of the twelve inch thick legs were small feet with three toes. The soles were rough and thick with metal like skin. His arms and hands were human in form but his hands had two opposable thumbs, instead of one. His head was smooth with no external ear foreskin. The bright colors of silver, white, reds, and yellows were mixed together in short and long black vertical stripes a centimeter in width all throughout his body except for his head and chest. His head was a shiny yellow with black markings similar to a lionfish. His chest was also designed like the head, but had larger stripes and the yellow was replaced by brown.
“Thank you, your Excellency. We expect an Argonian fleet to arrive within three solar days, but once the generator is activated, they will not be able to stop the terra forming sequence.” Zumari spoke in squeaks, but an overriding amplifying speaker on his necklace projected a digitally created soprano male voice.
The large chamber in the center of the palace was filled with Tantalized androids, staff and twenty Soldiers who witnessed the conversation as Quinn rapidly left the chamber to speed up his workers.
He briskly walked down the main corridor away from the center reception chamber. Two Adams and two Eves joined him following behind his heels. “The Pylaxians will be helping us meet the deadline of forty-eight hours. Inform everyone and allow the aliens to enter and direct any changes to the construction.”
“Director, we still have the plasma regulators connected to the Eve factory.” One of the assistant reported.
Quinn stopped in his stride turning to Eve 14. The woman was dressed like a secretary; all in black with a knee high dress. “Get all of the androids to reconnect the regulators immediately.” He turned to the assistants. “Divert the Skolo power plant’s energy to the factory. His Excellency will approve it now that the South Americans are on their way here.”
Eve 14 took off in a sprint to a main computer terminal as the rest of the group headed out of the palace. By the time they entered their armored van, Eve 14 was back with them as casually as they arrived.
The van sped off to the center of Apex five miles away. Both assistants pulled out tablets and started working on the new configuration. Eve 87 focused on the route as green traffic lights allowed the van to proceed without being attacked by a gauntlet of fire from other androids and auto cannon turrets on each street corner. All of the buildings were twenty to fifty stories spanning thirty miles all around. Rings of open space every three miles broke the architect’s bland design, but it was the combat engineer’s dream as each open area defined a defensive line from ground or air assault. The generator area was filled with sparse structures one to three stories high, with a center shaft covered like a missile silo
door. Twelve covers surrounded the center shaft, over a square mile. It was very awe inspiring but only two of the occupants appreciated the achievement by man and machine.
The van stopped on a metallic covering roughly twenty meters in diameter. There was no visible door or person in the area as the concrete looking metal underneath the van descended into the ground, taking the van with it. The van went underground surrounded by five sublevels of shear wall. It stopped at an open level to a small parking lot full of various vehicles, the largest being a nine ton delivery truck.
The five walked into a personnel elevator sixty more sublevels down. They entered a block of hallways, taking the center front most corridor, walking a good distance; passing a security door thicker than most bank vaults.
Upon entering a large rectangular room, a cinematic size screen displayed twelve three−mile long force field generator tubes with one center shaft extending ten miles deep. Director Quinn kept from sneering as he saw a Pylaxian at the far right of the room inputting data into the drill terminal.
He glanced at Eve 14, and then proceeded to his duties. Eve 14 casually walked to the far right of the room and sat by an empty console. Her android body and mind was as constructed, but her telepathic ability was one of ten out of thousands of androids. She peered into the mind of the alien, seeing all the technical information he was doing on the terminal. She dug deeper to see his real job on their Pylaxian spaceship. An uncanny smile came over her, but she instantly caught herself as not to let anyone see it. The alien stopped moving his long fingers and slowly looked around the room.
Eve 14 never looked away from her console quickly configuring the new parameters as workers in the shaft continued to excavate and emplace tubing.
