Red Alert- Missles Inbound

by Cliff Deane

  Sounding utterly deflated, Belinsky said, “President Greene, I accept your conditions. I will direct our allies to follow suit, but if they cheat, please do not blame peace-loving Russia.”

  “Alexi, I agree, in principle, with your proposal. I certainly hope you can be sufficiently forceful in consultations with your allies.

  “Item two, you must immediately, as in the next sixty minutes reverse your ridiculous posturing over her change of orbit. Alexi, this is not negotiable. Admit that your statements were false about Holly Thorne. I don’t care who you blame for the incorrect information, but you now have fifty-nine minutes before we strike your spaceship construction sites and your space station.”

  Belinsky attempted to interrupt but was literally shushed by President Greene.

  “No, do not interrupt. I told you this is not negotiable: fifty-nine minutes Belinsky, no more.”

  The Chairman knew he was beaten, and also knew that he had to work to gain time and distance from this tragic end to the SRI-F plan to destroy the USUG Fleet.

  “Madame President, I agree to your terms and pledge to find the fools who provided such erroneous information concerning the comet.”

  Both parties were greatly relieved as they said their farewells. Greene then hung up the phone, ending the conversation.

  “Admiral Perry,” said Greene, “have our Space Navy keep a close eye on those construction sites.”

  President Greene looked to Admiral Perry and said, “Gus, from the destruction unleashed by our 1,000 kWh lasers, it appears that the days of enhanced armor are over. We must quickly update our fleet with multiple shield generators. Is it possible to develop wide angled laser bursts?”

  Admiral Perry tapped a pencil lightly against his notepad before he answered. “Madame President, lasers are very narrow focused beams. To spread them out reduces their power to the point of that of a flashlight. So, no ma’am, DARPA does not believe that wide angled lasers are possible.

  “Admiral King and I were discussing this same issue, just yesterday, and I believe that he has come up with a potential way to achieve the same effect, without degradation of the power of the laser. He said that upon his return he would like to try an old US Air Force technique.

  “Back in the late twentieth century, an automated tail gun was added to the legendary B-52 Bomber. This mini-gun, which fired six-thousand round per minute, produced a rope of rounds and because it fired so fast, the Air Force found it difficult to achieve any dispersal at all. After much brainstorming and mental gear grinding, the idea of adding a shaking device to the mini-gun proved to be the answer. The rope of bullets became a moderate spray. The idea was simple but ingenious. Admiral Perry believes the principle of Occam’s Razor may also vastly improve the destructive power of our laser weapons.”

  “Occam’s Razor?” asked Mack Holland.

  Admiral Perry smiled and said, “Mack, Occam was an ancient Arabic Mathematician who said that the simplest solution to a problem was usually the best. Today, we call it the Kiss Principal, or Keep It Simple, Stupid.”

  The group spent the next hour discussing both the call from Belinsky and the possible ramifications concerning the total destruction of the SRI-F Space Fleet. The COS was directed to inform his Russian counterpart that the SRI-F had twelve hours to cease all construction of military space vessels. Following this vibrant discussion, Mr. Winters was asked by President Greene to present his portion of the briefing.

  Mr. Gordon Winters said, “Thank you, Madame President. Gordon got to his feet and walked to a seventy-five-inch computer screen. He touched the screen and indicated a point, placing the mining ships of the SDF Fleet one-month past the orbit of Mars.

  “Madame President,” said Gordon, “with Operation HT now complete, our SDF Fleet will return to Earth. Once rudimentary hull repairs have been made, the three mining vessels will depart for the Mars, Red Sands facility where the repairs will be inspected for possible weaknesses.”

  The President asked, “What is the status of Admiral King? Will he remain on active duty or return to the Astrid?”

  Admiral Perry spoke up and said, “Ma’am, I have asked Admiral King to remain on active service, and he has graciously accepted. I have also sent a request to promote Admiral King to three stars and that he be placed in charge of the Fleet upgrades, refits, and initial command of a new Training Command. Madame President, I hope you will second my request.”

  The President looked at Admiral Perry and said, “I will, of course, second your recommendation, but I must ask why you would want to take such a capable tactician out of command of the fleet? Come on, Gus, tell us your nefarious plan; out with it.”

  Perry smiled broadly and responded with, “Madame President, my plan is hardly nefarious. It is my plan for him to return to space in command of the SDF Fleet once the ships are ready to see action and the training of crews is complete. At that point, the Training Command will be given to Admiral Lantz Ogden. You are, as always, absolutely correct that our Admiral King belongs in space leading our fleet.”

  Everyone around the table took great pleasure in the Vice Admiral’s plan, for none could argue that Admiral Sky King deserved anything less.

  “Thank you, Gus, you have my complete support of this plan, and the Confederation also thanks you for having the foresight to have the right man in the job.”

  8 February 2118

  Aboard the Mining Vessel Astrid

  En route to Red Sands, Mars Station

  The three ships which had successfully pushed Holly Thorne aside from her path toward Earth were enroute to Mars. The atmosphere among the crew was electric as the realization that they were all now, very rich men. The majority of the spacers kept their desire to leave the service of Krupp, Gmbh and live out the remainder of their lives in luxury fooled no one. Captain Ward, knew that Krupp would need to take on new crews. In fact, he had contacted Admiral King, seeking continued service with the US Space Defense Force. Ward’s mentor had assured him that his application would be accepted and that following a crash course at the Space Academy, he would become Captain of the first new Cruiser to be completed.

  As Captain Ward returned to his quarters, he felt a bit flushed, and a somewhat persistent cough had begun during the night. Now, some three hours after speaking with Admiral King, he realized that he was running a temperature. He rose from his desk and immediately heard, what appeared to be the entire Bridge Crew coughing.

  Ward quickly made his way to the infirmary and discovered a long line waiting to see the Medical Personnel. Each man had a breather over his mouth.

  As the crew realized that the Captain was among them, someone shouted, “Captain on deck, make way!”

  The crewmen stood against the wall allowing the Captain to pass. Upon entering the small infirmary, the first Doctor he came to immediately gave Alan a breathing mask and demanded that he put it on.

  Captain Ward asked the Doctor if he had any idea of what was happening.

  “No, sir, I do not,” answered the Doctor, “and I mean no disrespect, but I do not have time to discuss it with you, sir.”

  The Med Staff was frustrated and at a loss as to what must be done, other than record temperatures, hand out sleep aids and order the sick to their quarters.

  Alan gave the Doctor some space and began a walkthrough inspection of the ship. At every turn, he found very sick crewmen. It quickly became obvious to him that one-hundred percent of his crew was ill and unable to perform their duties. Alan could not fathom how nearly twelve-thousand spacers could become so ill, so fast, and all at once.

  Returning to his Ready Room, Ward announced to the crew that all functions were to be placed on auto and ordered all crewmen who were ill to their quarters.

  He then spoke with Master Chief Karson and directed him to power up the servo-bots that were primarily for emergencies in the fusion stations. Karson was ordered to reprogram them to deliver meals and water to every crewman on the ship.

  Chief Karson
said, “Sir, everyone here is sick, but I didn’t realize that the entire crew was infected. I hate to admit it, sir, but I am feeling weaker by the moment, so I’ll get right on reprogramming the servo-bots.”

  “Thank you, Chief,” said the Captain.

  It was now some six hours since Ward had awakened with a cough and he was exhausted. He made one last visit to an empty Bridge and attempted to contact the Phobos and Deimos with no luck. He then contacted Admiral King.

  “Sir, every man aboard is very ill, myself included. I have lost all communications with my sister ships, so I must assume they are in the same situation. I have ordered the Astrid placed on the automated systems and the crew to their quarters. My guess is that we have, somehow, become ill with a virulent form of influenza. I have only one guess as to how this pathogen entered our ships. Holly Thorne has a flu bug, and it is a pisser. As soon as I sign-off with you, I will make one last call to Red Sands, informing them of our condition.”

  Admiral King responded with, “You have taken the correct steps, now go to bed and I pray you will get well soon. Don’t worry about contacting Red Sands, I will see to that. Get lots of rest Al. I’ll speak with you again upon your recovery.”

  Captain Ward managed to drag himself to his quarters and into bed. He quickly fell into a troubled sleep.

  During his illness, it was all he could do to eat, drink, and drag himself to the toilet. Ward’s temperature seemed to hold at 103∘. For seven days he had no idea if anyone was still alive aboard the Astrid. Alan would not have been surprised at his own death. Every muscle in his body ached as though they were being stretched like rubber-bands that were clamped on each end, well beyond their normal length. His head pounded as if a base drum tried to work its way out of his brain. Delirium was now the normal state of existence.

  16 February 2118

  Aboard the Mining Vessel Astrid

  En route to Red Sands, Mars Station

  On day eight, Captain Ward was finally able to sit up without the overwhelming dizziness he had known for the past week. He considered getting dressed but found that the effort to go to the toilet was still too exhausting to allow any frivolous exercise, like dressing. Ward continued to force himself to eat, drink, lean on the bulkhead to visit the toilet and sleep.

  The hundreds of servo-bots continued to make the rounds to every set of quarters, leaving some kind of tasteless blocks of high caloric and vitamin enriched jello-like food. At least he assumed it was food. Alan was glad that the food cubes also contained, anti-diarrhea and pain relievers, though he could not imagine how bad the pain would have been without them.

  Day nine brought hope that he might actually survive this incredibly debilitating illness. For the first time in nine days of misery, Captain Alan Ward was actually able to take a shower and brush his teeth. This small victory, however, proved to be the limit of his endurance. He thought, tomorrow I will get dressed and make some rounds. He knew those rounds would not take him far from his cabin, but it was a start.

  Ward awoke on day ten, 18 February and felt surprisingly better. The dizziness was gone, and for the first time since the onset of the flu, Alan felt hungry, no, he thought, more like ravenous.

  As he arose from his bed, Alan realized that he felt almost normal. There was no dizziness, nausea, and most noticeably, no pain, anywhere. His muscles were relaxed, and the bass drum had marched its way out of his head. He realized that the only remaining symptom was an overall weakness of both body and mind.

  The Captain of the Astrid made his way into the passageway and was assaulted by the stench of death. The odor was so powerful that the automated air filters could not contain it. Am I the only survivor? Ward wondered.

  Still in Officer Country, Alan made his way to his XO’s cabin. He knocked and receiving no answer, Alan opened the door and saw the decaying corpse of his friend and Executive Officer Darryl Barnes. The XO had fallen while trying to make his way to the toilet. Barnes did not have the strength to get up, and there he died, alone and miserably ill.

  After checking to make sure the XO was dead, Captain Ward continued to the cabin shared by LT Peter Proud and LT Logan. Both men were awake and at the Captain’s knock said, in unison, “Come.”

  As the Captain entered the cabin, both men began to rise, but Alan ordered them to remain sitting. Like their Captain, both men were still a bit shaky but felt remarkably better. They ensured the Captain that they would be back on duty within the hour.

  “Pete,” said the Captain, “I want a tally of who is alive. The XO is dead, so until we find someone senior, I want you to fill in as XO. Can do?”

  “Yes, sir can do, sir.”

  “Logan, find Chiefs Harkins and Karson. If they are up and about have them report to me at their earliest convenience. I’ll be on the Bridge going over the ship’s automated logs.”

  “Yes, sir,” said LT Logan, I’ll get right on it, sir. Oh, would it be all right if I showered first, I’m pretty smelly right now.”

  For the first time in ten days, Captain Ward actually caught himself smiling as he said, “Yes, LT, I highly recommend that course of action. Now, listen up. My guess is that we are going to find that possibly thousands of crew members did not make it, so prepare yourselves. Roger?”

  Both men said in unison, “Roger that, sir.”

  “All right then, I’ll be on the Bridge,” said Ward as he closed the door and made his way forward to the Command Bridge.

  Ward found that his strength was returning rapidly and was hungrier than ever. Hunger forced him to delay his trip to the Bridge as he made his way to the Ship’s Mess. Upon his arrival, he discovered that three of the ships forty cooks were already there. The smell of brewing coffee and the sight of sandwiches stacked on trays brought a sense of delight and well-being that was only out-matched by the taste of said coffee and sandwiches.

  Ward asked the cooks about survivors in their area. The men didn’t know exactly how many, but they said that most had died. The others would report for duty after they showered and dressed.

  “Cap’n, we didn’t really know what to do, so we just came on in and started some coffee and something for the crew to eat.”

  Captain Ward looked at these three men with immense pride as he said, “Men, I am so proud of you. What you are doing here will spread throughout the ship. Others will follow your lead, thank you.”

  As the Captain turned to resume his trek to the Bridge, his attendant, Yoeman Penny Prichard entered the Mess and upon seeing the Captain walked up to him with a small smile. She said, “Captain, I am so happy to see that you came through. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Ward smiled and said, “Yes, Penny, get something to eat then report to LT Logan. Assist him in finding out how many of us are still alive.”

  The Yoeman said, “Yes, sir, I’ll just grab some coffee and a sandwich to take with me.”

  “No,” said her Captain, “you will sit down to eat before you begin your mission. I’m also pretty sure that L Ts Logan and Proud will come in to find something to eat in just a few minutes.”

  “Aye, aye, sir, thank you, Captain.”

  Ward was only on the Bridge for a couple of minutes before both Chief Harkins and Karson reported for duty. Alan directed both men to seats and said, “Kit, job two for you is to get the filtering system repaired and then begin a system’s update. I hope that we’ll find things, for the most part, are running fine, but the air filters have me concerned. Roger?”

  “Yes, sir, of course,” replied Chief Kit Karson, “but you said job two. What is job one?”

  Ward smiled and asked, “Chief, have you had any coffee or something to eat, yet?”

  “Oh, no, sir, that can wait. I’ll get right on the filters before I eat.”

  “No, Chief, the filters are job two. I am telling you that before you start on your many tasks, you and Chief of the Boat Harkins will get some solid food, and coffee into your systems. Am I clear, here?”

  Chief Karson
started to protest, but the Chief of the Boat cut him off saying, “Kit, shut your pie hole, and follow your Captain’s orders. I don’t want to be forced to haul your sorry old ass up before the Captain’s Mast.”

  Kit looked contrite and just nodded his head before saying, “Will do, sir.”

  “Good, now, Chief Harkins, job two for you is to form up a detail to start policing up the bodies. Put them in one of the loading bays and bring the temp down to freezing, then report back to me. That task may take several days.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Chief Harkins, “it just might, at that.”

  “Okay, then, let’s get to it. Oh, if you see any officers up and around, send them to the Bridge. You may commandeer anyone else, except for the cooks, to complete your missions. Hourly updates, gentlemen, hourly updates.”

  Both Chiefs said, “Aye, sir,” and headed for the Mess Hall.

  18 February 2118, 1535 hours

  Aboard the Mining Vessel Astrid

  Enroute to Red Sands, Mars Station

  “Leyte Gulf: Astrid: Over.”

  The Leyte Gulf responded almost immediately.

  “Astrid: Leyte Gulf: hear you five by five, how me? Over.”

  “Five by five, this is Captain Ward. Is Admiral King available?”

  “Aye, sir, wait: Out.”

  Within a couple of minutes, Admiral King arrived at the USSN Leyte Gulf’s Communication Station. He was extremely relieved to hear that Captain Ward had finally recovered.

  Before taking the mic, King instructed JJ to record the conversation with Captain Ward.

  Yes, sir, of course, replied JJ.

  “Alan,” said Admiral Sky King, “it is so good to hear from you. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, sir,” said Captain Alan Ward, “thank you, surprisingly, my strength is returning very quickly. I don’t really understand why, but I am happy about it. Sir, it’s good to be able to contact you.