Redemption

by Richard Stephenson

  Max glared at Charles with intense hatred. He did not like being made a fool, especially by this geriatric psycho. “Tell me what?”

  “My good man, the end of the world started right here!”

  Part 2 - 2034

  The Final Days of the Chinese War

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Mr. President, sir, General Dupree’s jet has landed, would you like for the General to report directly to you or does he have time to settle in his quarters?”

  “Thank you, Hal. Please inform the General to report to me in fifteen minutes.”

  President Marshall Beck sat in the command center of Beck Castle, the stronghold built by his father decades ago to survive the end of the world, which it did for the most part in 2027. Anarchy and chaos had fractured the former United States and the deal was sealed when the Great Empire of Iran set off an electromagnetic pulse in the atmosphere above the eastern coast. From the ashes rose two opposing sides: the Pacific States of America, founded by his father, and the Unified American Empire, the result of a coup de tat orchestrated by Simon Sterling after he assassinated the last legitimate president, Malcolm Powers. The PSA managed to defeat the UAE only to face a bigger foe, the Chinese. The PSA had been battling the Chinese on their own soil for six long and bloody years.

  “Hal, I’m finished with my coffee, I’m ready for the morning briefing.”

  “Yes, sir. General Dupree has requested to give you the briefing in person. Is that acceptable or would you still like to hear it?”

  “That’s fine, I can wait on Richard.”

  “In the meantime, sir, would you like to review your speech?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Are you sure, sir?”

  “Hal, I’ve memorized every word of it. I’m good.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “How are you doing on this fine morning my friend?”

  “Sir, I am operating at peak capacity, performing seven hundred septillion operations per second. I am what you would consider ‘present’ at over sixty-two thousand locations simultaneously. I am currently piloting over three thousand craft and operating over eleven thousands robots. My diagnostic report—”

  “Okay, Hal, that sounds great. Glad to know you’re in tip-top shape.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Please invite the vice-president to the meeting.”

  “That will not be necessary, sir. Vice President Harris is currently with General Dupree. The general has already extended an invitation.”

  “Perfect. I can’t wait.”

  ***

  Richard Dupree opened the door to his quarters to find the grumpy scowl of his best friend.

  “Max! How are you?” The two men embraced. Richard was smiling, Max was not.

  “Take it easy, brother,” grunted Max.

  Richard took a step back. “Not doing so well, huh?”

  “Typical day, no worse for wear.”

  Max took a step inside and Richard closed the door. “I’m changing into my fatigues and heading to meet the boss. You coming?”

  “Sure, care to give me a sneak peek on your briefing?”

  “Not a chance, Mr. Vice President.”

  “Fine, be that way.”

  Richard laced up his boots and headed to the door. Both men headed down the corridor and got on the elevator. Once at the command level, they made their way down another busy corridor to the outer chamber of the command center. Hal was kind enough to allow people to come and go throughout the stronghold based on their security clearance, however, the one door Hal would never open automatically was the one they were currently standing in front of.

  While they were waiting, Max leaned over and whispered, “Come on, at least tell me if he’s going to be happy.”

  “Marshall may share a few traits with his father, but he has one thing the old man never had.”

  “What?”

  “Brilliant as he was, Howard had the emotional maturity of a teen-aged girl. Marshall can take bad news in stride.”

  “So it is bad news, then?”

  “Shut up, wait and see.”

  “I outrank you, you know. Show a little respect.”

  “Okay, shut up, Mr. Vice President.”

  “That’s better.”

  After a couple of hisses and a warning siren, the door to the command center creaked open. The massive doors retracted just enough to allow the two men to enter. Once they stepped in, the doors sealed shut.

  Marshall Beck had been the youngest man to hold the office of president. Upon his father’s death, Marshall took the oath of office and declared that the Pacific States of America to be the direct descendant of the United States of America. Based upon that proclamation, Howard Beck was the forty-seventh president and he was the forty-eighth. Marshall was thirty-nine years old when he took office. Six years in office had aged him at least twenty years.

  Marshall extended his hand. “Richard, good to have you home.”

  “Mr. President, it’s good to be home. Four weeks on the front lines was tough.” Richard shook the president’s hand with his right and clasped the president’s forearm with his left.

  “Hope you don’t think this is a vacation, General. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Oh, I was thinking about taking a cruise. You know, since the last one went so well.” Richard winked at Max. The last time the two men were on a cruise ship together, a Chinese submarine sank it.

  Marshall rolled his eyes and smirked. “Sit down, both of you.”

  The president sat in his chair while the other two men retrieved chairs from the opposite wall. Once all three of them were in front of the spherical monitor, Marshall turned to Richard. “What do you have for me, General?”

  Richard didn’t waste time. “Hal, load my mission briefing and skip to part two.”

  “Of course, sir.” A map of the North American continent spilled out in front of them on the holographic monitor. The Rocky Mountains served as the border between both sides. General Dupree had managed to bridge the gap between Washington state and Alaska, controlling the western edge of Canada. The Canadian government had crumbled more than a decade prior so the feat was an easy one. The PSA also controlled the entirety of the Baja peninsula solely for its strategic value in securing the Pacific Ocean, the rest of Mexico being a wasteland.

  The three men studied the map while Richard spoke. “Mr. President, Mr. Vice-President, I present to you Operation Miraflores.” Upon Richard’s verbal cue, the map panned to the Panama Canal and zoomed in. “As we all know, the Chinese base their entire American Theater around the Panama Canal. With the Empire of Iran controlling the Middle East, Africa, and most of Europe, the Chinese are forced across the Pacific where they have to funnel over eighty percent of their manpower and resources through the canal. Once they are safely in the Caribbean, they either make their way into the Gulf of Mexico and up the Mississippi or they go around Florida and make their way up the coast.”

  The president held up his hand. “Richard, I want that canal intact.”

  “As do I, Mr. President. It’s far too important. Even if we destroyed it, we’d still be fighting a desperate, wounded animal for eighteen months. I wouldn’t be surprised if they nuked us all to hell on their way out the door. If we manage to beat them, we still have Iran to contend with and we need Panama to stay like it is.”

  Max punched Richard’s arm.

  “What the hell?” said Richard.

  “‘If we manage to beat them?’”

  Richard sat back in his chair and paused in silent reflection. He looked at both men with an intensity that made them both uncomfortable. “That’s what I said. Look, if the two of you want to fire me, then so be it. Make no mistake, gentlemen; we are losing this war, badly. Anything we send over the Rocky Mountains does not return and we can’t move our navy across Mexico to get to the Gulf. All we have done for the past year is lick our wounds while they
dig in deeper and wait for more men and resources to arrive. If we stay the course, we will lose, that is a fact.”

  The president held up his hand again. “Fair enough, General. Tell us your plan.”

  “It’s right there on the screen, do you see it?”

  Max waited for the president to speak. When Marshall looked to Richard impatiently, Max decided to intervene. “I see a heavily fortified canal and a blockade stretching from Columbia to Costa Rica.”

  Richard smiled. “You’re looking on the wrong side.”

  The president sighed. “Really, Richard? The Caribbean? That’s insane. We’ve been over this before. We don’t have a single boat in the water and the Chinese are dug in deep. We know they’ll never surrender it to us, they’ll destroy the locks on the Pacific side and put the south end of the canal underwater. It would take decades to restore it.”

  “That’s just the thing, gentlemen, we’ve been looking at this whole thing the wrong way. We don’t need boats to capture the Panama Canal.”

  Marshall Beck was getting visibly upset. “I might take you up on your offer to get fired, this better be good.”

  “It is, Mr. President, but it’s not without risk. We already know from previous failed missions that Hal’s robots and his craft emit a carrier signal while not in stealth mode. We also know that when he’s in stealth mode, the only thing he is capable of is reconnaissance. If he wants to engage the enemy he has to decloak. When that happens, the Chinese are immediately aware of our presence and the mission is short lived. The Chinese also have the airspace above the blockade monitored up to thirty thousand feet so we’re cut off from the air, at least that’s what they think.”

  The president perked up. “What are you saying? We can beat them from the air?”

  “Not quite, Mr. President. We drop down on them from the stratosphere, over four times that height, they’ll never see us coming.”

  Max was intrigued but confused. “We can’t bomb them Richard. We start doing that and we risk them sabotaging the canal and retreating.”

  “No bombs. Sit back and let me explain.” The president and vice-president sat back in their chairs and relaxed. Richard continued. “The PSS Howard Beck strike group is currently on station a thousand nautical miles from the southern tip of the Baja peninsula. From the flight deck of the Howard Beck, we launch seventy-five helium balloons each carrying a small cabin made from reinforced polymers rendering them undetectable by radar. Once all the balloons are launched, the Howard Beck will head south to engage the blockade. Each cabin will hold two paratroopers and a deactivated Hal robot - no power signature, no carrier frequency. The cabins have been fitted with small propellers so they can maneuver southbound to the canal. When they’re a hundred and twenty thousand feet above the canal, they jump.

  Max was shocked. “Christ, Richard, that’s over twenty miles straight up. Is that even possible?”

  “It’s been done a few times. The record is almost a hundred and thirty-six thousand feet. As I was saying, once they jump, they’ll be in free fall for over four minutes. When they are a thousand feet above the Canal Zone, they pop their chute and hit the ground.”

  “Who’s looking after the Hal robots on the way down?” asked Max.

  “The robots will have self-deploying chutes rigged to altimeters. As soon as the robot drops from the cabin, a drogue parachute will deploy to slow its descent. The paratroopers will hit the ground about thirty seconds before the Hal robots. When they land, they’ll basically just look straight up and follow their Hal robot to the ground and collect it. The robots will have reflective patches only seen on infrared. We originally wanted to get Hal on the ground using a tandem jump but the robots weigh too much. The odds of a paratrooper directly attached to a robot actually making it to the ground alive was slim.”

  The president was optimistic but guarded. “So, you get a hundred and fifty troopers and seventy-five Hal robots on the ground, what comes next?”

  The disembodied British accent interrupted, “Mr. President, sir, if I may?”

  “What is it, Hal?”

  “Even if all the variables are favorable, I estimate that only eighty-six percent of the force will survive the jump.”

  “Thank you, Hal, noted. Please continue, General.”

  “Once we are on the ground, our primary objective is to disable communication and radar. Once that is done, the Hal robots can be activated and we secure the three locks.”

  “Locks?” asked the president.

  “Think of them as elevators that raise and lower ships so they can navigate through the canal,” said Richard.

  “I see, General. Continue.”

  “While the locks are being secured, the Howard Beck will launch an airstrike on the blockade. The airstrike will serve as the perfect distraction while our force on the ground seizes control of the entire canal. Once the canal is secured, the Hal robots join the fight against the blockade and take out any remaining resistance. By the time the Howard Beck arrives, she’ll be able to navigate the canal from south to north with the rest of our navy bringing up the rear. We finally be able to come over the Rockies while we hit the Chinese from the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic. Without reinforcements or supplies and being hit from three sides, we defeat the Chinese inside of six months.”

  “Fortune favors the bold, General, I’m impressed. What are the risks?”

  “Hal?” said Richard.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President. As I’ve already mentioned, even in optimal conditions, I estimate that only eighty-six percent of the force will survive the jump. Jumping from extreme altitudes in such thin air decreases the amount of friction needed to slow descent. After the first thirty seconds, the paratrooper will reach speeds that will break the sound barrier. While falling at such high speeds, the paratrooper will be in an uncontrolled spin and if he is unable to properly orientate himself, he will lose consciousness. If the weather is not favorable, the balloons could drift during ascent and be unable to maintain course. Also, one of…”

  “I get the point, Hal. I’m sure you’ll keep us in good hands.”

  “I most certainly will, Mr. President.”

  Marshall turned to Richard. “What’s your timeframe?”

  “We’re ready to begin training in the Nevada desert. We’ll be ready in two weeks. After that, we’re onboard the Howard Beck and at the mercy of the weather.”

  Marshall loved to hear his father’s name. The christening of the vessel that bore his father’s namesake was one of the proudest moments of his life. He thought of what his father would say and smiled. “Make it so, General.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Four days later Richard Dupree was in the Nevada desert looking straight up. “Where is he? I don’t see him.”

  “Seventy-five by three thirty, General.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Richard made the adjustment on the infrared telescope. “Okay, there he is.”

  “Approaching ninety thousand, General.”

  “Copy that.”

  For the purposes of training, the paratrooper was outfitted with an emergency parachute. If the jumper’s vital signs indicated he was unconscious, the emergency chute would deploy and bring him safely to the ground. On the actual combat jump, there wouldn’t be an emergency chute. Operational security couldn’t allow the skies to be filled with visible, open parachutes. Losing consciousness would mean certain death.

  “Excellent, he came out of his spin.”

  “General, with your permission, I’d like to start jumping with the Hal robots.”

  “Permission granted, Captain. Keep me informed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Richard patted the young captain on the back and started walking to his truck when he saw Hal jogging toward him. The robot had a rectangular torso with arms and legs but no head. At the center of the robot’s torso a red, glowing fish eye lens reminiscent of his science fiction namesake gave a person someth
ing to focus on when communicating with it.

  “What is it Hal?”

  “Sir, I’m speaking to you over your headset.” Hal did this when he was within earshot of a person with inadequate security clearance. “I have just received priority communication with one of our deep cover operatives.”

  “Who?”

  “Colonel Theodore Forrest. I’m routing the message to your tablet.”

  Richard retrieved his tablet from his jacket pocket, pressed his thumb to the pad and typed in a six-digit code. He read the message three times and still couldn’t believe it. “Hal, can you confirm this?”

  “I cannot, sir.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  “Sir, I have inadequate data to formulate a working hypothesis. All that we have is the reliability of Colonel Forrest. None of his prior reports have proven to be inaccurate or embellished. Since I have no contradicting data, I recommend that we proceed under the assumption that the report is valid until I can make confirmation.”

  “This changes everything.”

  “Yes, sir, I concur. I also recommend that we suspend Operation Miraflores until we receive additional intelligence from Colonel Forrest.”

  “Absolutely not, Hal.”

  “Sir, the seventy-five robots assigned to this operation are currently being retrofitted to reduce their overall weight by forty percent. If we receive actionable intelligence from Colonel Forrest, we will not have time to return the robots to full long-range combat readiness.”

  “The answer is no, Hal, am I clear?”

  “Of course you are, sir.”

  ***

  Colonel Theodore Forrest was deep behind enemy lines sixty-five miles north of Richmond, Virginia. The journey from the PSA had taken four months. He had slowly made his way across Texas and headed northeast through the Appalachians. He had no identification of any kind and didn’t carry a weapon. Once he made it to Virginia, he snuck his way into a labor camp just outside of Quantico. With the basic infrastructure of the region in ruins, the Chinese rounded up Americans by the thousands and forced them into cramped detention centers. The reason for their captivity was twofold; the first being to maintain law and order, the second to carry out the manual labor necessary to keep the Chinese military bases up and running.