Excolopolis_Poles of Enforcement

by Jack L. Marsch

  *

  Another piece of news hit the airwaves and became the icing on the cake when military intelligence reported a similar air-strike force was heading towards Europe from the southeast. That morning, Iraq and Iran launched two thousand five hundred fighters with only one target: Excolopolis.

  Fear embodied

  Restless rumblings emanated from the crystal clear, blue sky, and though nothing could be seen from a distance, it could be felt. It was like when a hiker gets lost in the wilderness, stands in front of a dark cave mouth and knows that there is something in there approaching him. He can't see it, he can only feel that something is not right.

  Over Excolopolis hung an immense scarlet, robotic air shields. The nearly fifteen-meter-long guard units provided security for the whole city, prepared if necessary, to sacrifice their own existence in order to prevent anything reaching the ground.

  ASEC did not order a state of alert. Instead, everyone was sent home to their families. The base was evacuated and the streets were deserted. Only in one tower was anybody working. Sean Steersman sat in his office, giving final commands to the groups of robots that were being deployed. They had no weaponry: no missiles, bombs, or anything that could cause destruction. They were not defenseless, however, armed as they were with an invisible weapon that no one, least of all the enemy, had counted on.

  The progress of the fighters from Iraq and Iran had not been stopped or even hindered in the slightest. Almost every European fighter squadron was engaged with protecting the western flanks where, for ten hours, a devastating battle had continued to rage across the skies. Although, several allied squadrons had taken off from carriers in the Mediterranean, no serious firepower was expected from the Europe and Allied forces because of the Libyan and Algerian threat.

  Sometime around half past eleven in Excolopolis, the silence broke, reinforced by the sense of fear that hummed in the air and began to resonate in the minds of the residents. Even those who didn't believe what they were hearing could see the windows rattling and lighter objects shaking and shelves indicating the arrival of something big. Many hoped for an earthquake.

  In their homes, people watched horrific sequences on their screens; scenes that had been filmed by amateur and professional cameramen, showing the approach of an overwhelmingly large air-force, the sound of which was now already audible in their living rooms.

  The planes marched across the sky in swarms, larger and smaller units in layers that washed together in a sea of planes. They were flying at very high altitude, their movements very indistinct, but in spite of the distance the huge formation blocked out the light of the sun. A few sequences of images flashed across TV screens at about the time that anti-aircraft guns and missiles were launched against the enemy battalions. Explosions flashed about the formation, yet their numbers did not seem to diminish.

  “It has been estimated by military intelligence that the enemy aircraft will reach Central European territory within approximately one and a half hours. Authorities are asking the public to leave the streets, return to their homes, and if possible hide in the lowest possible place they can, collect enough food for a few days and stock up plenty of water …” The report sounded over the only authorized channel left broadcasting.

  “I've heard from one of my buddies, who has a friend working in military intelligence, that they are heading straight here,” said Jeff.

  The Hayes, Griggs and Pineda family had come together to weather the storm. As the Hayes' cellar was the largest, the three families, twelve altogether, hid there and having made sure that they had blankets, bandages, food and water, and even something to read, though no one was in the mood to even read one line. Their food supply was lavish, with more than enough for a few days. In fact they seemed to be prepared to stay there for weeks. ‘One never knows’, as Jeff's father, Gordon Hayes had said.

  “I'm glad you're sharing the good news with us, Jeffry,” said his mother drily.

  “Why would they come right here?” asked Arch. “Is it because ASEC installed a power plant somewhere else?”

  “Dunno. They're mad about something, that's for sure. Maybe they've been wanting to do something for a long time and this is the excuse they needed to do something nasty,” Jeff explained.

  “If the war birds are heading here, it doesn't really matter whether we're down here, or on the street,” Archer said skeptically.

  “It's so good that we have another optimist in here,” huffed Pat.

  “Look at how many of them there are, over there,” interrupted Patricia's mother, Tia Griggs, and she pointed to the TV that they had taken down to the basement.

  The male members of the three families watched with squinting eyes at the shaking images of the sky that were zooming back and forth across the screen, as the camera vibrated in the hand of its amateur operator. The green, beige and dark blue forms of planes could just be made out, their noise drowning out everything else, even the sounds of screaming and shouting near the camera. The people around were obviously petrified, all thinking ‘what if … one of the planes above bombs them’.

  “I really hope Steersman's going to pull one of his tricks out of the hat and nail these assholes, because otherwise there won't be a stone left standing,” Pablo Pineda, Archer's father established.

  “He has already deployed those weird shield robots above the city. I really dunno if it will be enough, though,” said Jeff.

  “I'd be surprised if he just leaves things as they are,” said Archer, nodding.

  *

  A few miles away, in another of city's picturesque suburbs Karen was making tea for her parents. They had been living there for the past few months, since they sold their house in London to pay off their debts.

  “You know, Mum, in London you wouldn't be able to relax either. The same alert has been ordered there too, and many people have been evacuated from the city,” said Karen, calmly explaining the situation to her terrified mother.

  “At least we are together, here,” said her father, who wasn't being sarcastic this time.

  “That's it. Here Mum, drink this, it will calm you down, it's my own recipe,” she handed her mother a cup of hot tea.

  “Let's go down to the basement. Perhaps all the noise is making her too worried,” said Mr Colella.

  “Yes, let's go. I don't feel too reassured either.”

  Mr Colella picked up yet another cardboard box filled with dried and canned foods and put it under one arm, then he supported his wife, who had become rather too relaxed after Karen's tea.

  “Leave the box, I'll take it,” said Karen, as she took the box from her father and picked up another bottle of mineral water.

  They went down the thick, hardwood stairs that lead to the basement, which had been converted into a comfortable, cozy haven. There was even a refrigerator.

  “What were you planning to do with this room? Don't tell me that you wanted to rent it out because you're not earning enough,” Dora Colella noted, as they reached the warmly lit room.

  “No, I don't. I decorated it purely as a hobby. You know, I always wanted to be an interior decorator when I was a kid.”

  “I remember. Your poor dolls could never live in their own house because of the constant renovations,” she laughed for a moment.

  “Yeah, I never gave them a chance to relax.” Karen laughed a little bitterly as she looked up at the basement ceiling in fear, thinking about the horror that was on its way.

  Defense

  There was a pristine silence in the corridors of ASEC. No sound came from the depths of the laboratories where research and testing had so far been conducted without interruption, but now the whole isolated area was disturbingly still.

  Four dark towers reigned over the complex. Each seemed completely lifeless as events hurtled towards them. From outside, nothing could be seen, but one building hid frantic activity that was taking place inside.

  Sean Steersman's office was neither dark, nor lifeless. A number of monitors wer
e on and flashing brightly under the load of a constant stream of information while the robots' creator spoke to his units via the CCI system. He didn't touch any of the screens, yet they responded to his voice, answering each instruction and giving him constant status reports.

  This time, he had to program a large number of exceptions into the prohibition codes to give the robots the authorization to be able to destroy enemy units, even at the cost of human lives. Deleting this command was the final solution.

  *

  Fear became a reality. The dark swarm swept nearer projecting a massive tornado of noise. It was no longer just the windows that signaled their arrival. The vibrations spread and rattled furniture and appliances, and even the thickest walls seemed paper thin as the roar of jets swept through them.

  The shield-bots above the city began to stir restlessly. Each of them sensed that the fast approaching objects posed a threat and caused them to begin implementing the instructions that they had received. Because they were not bound by constraints, their formations were determined by their own reactions to the threat, so that sometimes they formed a tight groups and at other times they dispersed. They were the city's last defense against attack.

  The vault doors over the second sector opened, and as the giant doors ground to a stop, a previously unseen tide of robots flowed from inside out. They had no names, the differences amongst them only discernible by CCI identification numbers that were unique to each. In Steersman's office, where command was centered, live images appeared on the screens from cameras in each of the flying units. It was only a matter of minutes before the threat reached the city limits. That, however, proved to be sufficient for the SRT fleet to occupy their positions in the air above the city.

  Steersman's robots were equipped with only a single device that was unlike anything the world had seen before. Lack of any obvious firepower made it seem as if the balance was tipped heavily against them.

  *

  The planes were about 30-40 kilometers out from the city limits when the giant Iraqi and Irani formation split. Steersman began to fear slightly that he would need to divide his attention.

  His memory was awash with all he held dear, those things that he could never allow to be destroyed, which hardened his resolve to not waste a moment more. He ordered the operation to commence with a terse command, unleashing the robot armada.

  Countless units flew like lightning directly up into the upper stratosphere, well above the enemy planes. Others were to disarrange their dense formations, but the majority were ordered to directly fight one on one.

  They did not wait for the enemy to reach the city limits, but swooped down from high above and from the sides with a speed that far outstripped the opposing fighters, putting them to shame.

  The fighter pilots were unable to follow them down as their inboard devices measured the movements of the robots. Using auto-targeting, the pilots launched hundreds of air-to-air missiles, the white streaks of exhaust creating a spectacular design that crisscrossed the sky.

  It backfired.

  The ASEC units using what they had available, shot out gravitational radii onto the missiles and within seconds they held them like kites on strings.

  Some missiles exploded in the air, but the majority were held and some were made to collide with enemy fighters, sending fireballs hurtling across the sky. In the first engagement nearly fifty enemy fighter were destroyed.

  Although it was an insignificant amount compared to the whole, Steersman was somewhat relieved as he had gambled everything on one card. He had no idea whether it was going to work or not, but now he knew they had a chance. All he needed to do was give the order, one that he had not yet given. The only problem he could see was the sheers numbers of enemy aircraft facing them.

  *

  Explosions rumbled out over the city, and falling debris hit the streets, gardens and rooftops. Tree branches cracked as twisted metal, shrapnel, and the wreckage of fighters plummeted from the sky down onto them. It seemed as if hell itself had opened up over the city. The robotic air shields simply could not be everywhere and were making split second calculations to decide where the priorities lay in dealing with unstable and dangerous debris.

  Over and over again, they chased fighters down from higher altitudes, using their superior positional advantage. The gravitational radii reached out to pluck objects at the speed of light, but for the gravitational fields not created in a vacuum, it took a few milliseconds to exert power. This meant that the luminous rays appeared several times, harmlessly touching the machine's surface.

  At the right moment, with perfect timing, the robots were able to use their gravitational fields to hold a fighter wing or tail and slow it to a stop, then dragging it lifeless from its position. At times, a nudge was enough to put the fighter out of action, which resulted in either the pilot ejecting immediately, leaving the plane to crash, or releasing the bombs at the last minute. In the best case scenario the bombs went off in the air, but those that didn't were quickly rendered harmless by the shield bots, which made sure that the ordinance didn't fall on inhabited or sensitive areas.

  The ASEC technology slowly but surely began to prove itself against multiple enemy fighters.

  The battle continued for hours. It went on so long because of the safety instructions that prevailed primarily over the city, meaning that the robots could not do whatever they wanted.

  The enemy fighters did not turn back and could not escape, they had nowhere to go. What they faced over Excolopolis cost them far more than they had counted on, and they were given no opportunity for retreat. Anyway, there was little point in them doing so; they fought on until the last plane was plucked, smoking from the sky, which seemed like an eternity to the citizens huddled in basements below.

  *

  The noise stopped around midnight. The air ceased to vibrate, objects remained still, and in basements all over the city people wondered at the sudden silence, wondered what had been destroyed, city or enemy, was there anything left at all?

  “Somebody should go out and take a look at what's happened,” said Maria Pineda, sitting next to her husband.

  “Shouldn't we wait a bit? Maybe they'll give us some sort of signal,” said Tia Griggs.

  “I'll go and look,” exclaimed Jeff suddenly, and he jumped up. He was just leaving when his father turned to him. “Stay here! I should be going up.”

  “Let me go with you, then,” said Jeff.

  “Okay, but be real careful and keep behind me,” he replied.

  “I will, don't worry.”

  They went up the stairs and as if expecting the end of the world they carefully peered through a gap in the cellar door. They saw the living room and it was dark, but a strange light shone in the darkness. In front of the window black smoke was billowing upwards and red lights danced inside it.

  The two ventured out from the shelter of the door and took a few cautious steps. They peered around as if they were in a strange land.

  It seemed however that nothing had changed.

  Outside, everything was calm and they eased the front door open. Smoke obscured everything.

  “If our house is still standing, then they can't have bombed the city, can they?” said the older Hayes.

  “There is something in our garden,” said Jeff.

  “Perhaps it's some debris.”

  They ambled out to the road, but by the time they got there they were both seized by violent coughing from the smoke and were covered with soot and dust, from head to toe.

  The street was deserted and a few feet away the smoke was dispersing. As soon as they had emerged from the noxious clouds, they could see the city.

  Tonnes of wreckage and debris lay on the streets, nearly all of it was burning or smoking. As far as their eye could see, it looked as if the entire city was burning, though in reality it wasn't.

  In the sky above, ASEC machines patrolled, sweeping the area with light beams.

  “Seems like they were able to stop
all of it,” said Jeff.

  “Shit, this is bad … real bad,” his father sighed. “Let's tell the others,” he said and turned towards the house, but then he froze.

  The torn and twisted body of a Mirage fighter was burning in the garden, propped up against wall of the house, one of the rear stabilizers jammed into the roof.

  “What the fuck?” said Gordon Hayes angrily.

  “Well, at least, we don't have to mow the lawn for a while,” said Jeff facetiously.

  “I've always loved your sense of humor, son.”

  There was no need to call the others. Curiosity overcame their fear and they emerged from the basement, one by one, as did people all over the city. The streets filled with wandering residents, who looked around dazed, hardly able to believe their eyes.

  Clean up

  The shock that resulted from the attack lasted long into the night. No one was able to sleep because of the adrenaline still pulsing through their veins, so they spent the night cleaning away rubbish and ruins, tiding up gardens and roads in front of houses, pulling wreckage to the side of the road. Law enforcement dispatchers assigned all units to help residents because of the risk of remaining ordinance or debris.

  Time passed quickly and dawn broke unexpectedly, the rising sun flooding the city with a light that showed just how battered it had been. In some areas, light smoke twisted up into the sky in the distance, but by morning the vitality of liberation returned and the terror of the attack had dissipated.