Red Alert- Missles Inbound

by Cliff Deane

  “Admiral, I am loathe to tell you, but the death toll from this flu may stretch into the thousands. I have crews out making a count of survivors and policing up the bodies. I have directed that they be placed in an empty loading bay with the temperature set at zero degrees Fahrenheit.

  “The odor of death has overwhelmed the air filtering system. Master Chief Karson is working on that now. My XO Darryl Barnes is dead. I have temporarily placed Lieutenant Proud as his temporary replacement until we find out how many Officers pulled through.

  “I will provide a complete list as soon as the numbers and names come in. As things stand right now, Admiral, I’m not even sure if we have sufficient crew to run this ship.”

  Admiral King was aghast at the initial report from his friend, Al Ward. He also quickly realized the potential ramifications for Earth when it passed through Holly Thorne’s tail. He again told his friend how happy he was to learn of the flu’s passing.

  “Thank you, Captain. Please keep us updated with each new discovery.”

  Ward said, “Yes, Admiral, I’ll keep you apprised of our progress as we discover exactly where we stand. I’ll also transmit a copy of the computer logs that were recorded during the last ten days. Sky, some parts of the video recordings are painful to watch.”

  Following the initial brief from Captain Ward, King returned to his Ready Room to contact Vice Admiral Perry.

  “Wake up, JJ.”

  Yes, Sky, how may I help?

  “JJ, transmit your data to Admiral Perry’s AI. Also, send a message via regular channels requesting a meeting.”

  Done, I would guess that we will hear from the Admiral shortly.

  Sky sat before his personal computer and began forming his briefing to Vice Admiral Adolphus Perry.

  Two hours later, JJ alerted Sky that Admiral Perry was connected via his AI.

  “Sir,” said Admiral King, “just two hours ago I spoke with Captain Ward of the Mining Vessel Astrid. He has informed me that the loss of lives aboard the Astrid, Phobos, and Deimos appears to be huge.” King went on to give his friend Admiral Perry the total information available.

  “Sir, I suggest you meet with the President and prepare her for the pandemic which, I believe is irrevocably bearing down upon Earth. I will keep you up to date with new information, as it comes in. What say we keep this line open for now? Dolph, please make sure my Hermie is safe. I’m counting on you.”

  Admiral Perry assured Sky that his daughter would be safe in the underground city at Mount Weather. She would stay with his wife, Coe and himself.

  18 February 2118, 1900 hours

  Oval Office

  Washington, DC

  Vice Admiral Perry sought an emergency meeting with the President and the Comet Committee. The group arrived for the council at 1900 hours. They gathered in President Greene’s Conference Room. Once everyone was seated, President Greene asked Admiral Perry to brief the committee on his conversation with Admiral King.

  The Admiral provided the Comet Committee with transcripts as well as downloading them, along with the video to each member’s AI.

  The video which was downloaded to each of the AIs had been edited to only show the struggles of the crew as they made their way to the toilet. This video also saw many men and women die in the ship’s companionways. The video playing in each AI was three dimensional and provided the perspective of the viewer actually standing in those same corridors. They watched as crewmen fell and did not have the strength to get back on their feet. This pitiful scene was replayed possibly thousands of times, however, in the interest of time, most had been edited by Admiral Perry’s staff. Once the vid ended, Admiral Perry informed them that there were 423 vids showing the deaths of Spacers on the three Mining Vessels.

  The impact of the Admiral’s Briefing was heartbreaking, and deeply disturbing. President Greene asked in a low and solemn voice, “CDC, what can you do?”

  In an equally low and solemn voice, Dr. Tyler Deen almost whispered, “Nothing, Madame President, absolutely nothing. In twenty-four days, our civilization will come crashing down around our ears, and there is no way to prevent the evil that this way comes.”

  The President stood and said, “Gentlemen, we need some time to digest the information we have just received. We will reconvene tomorrow, February 19th at 3:00 pm. I hope that you can all bring suggestions to help save us, or at least, ameliorate this catastrophe. Good evening,” said the leader of the Free World, as she left the room.

  Alone in the Oval Office, Eileen Nearing Greene steepled her fingers under her chin and sat, in silence. Tears ran freely, furrowing her cheeks. Eileen did not want to survive this cleansing of humanity.

  She thought, what would be the point? Why should I survive while three-hundred million other Americans die?

  A soft tap on the door went unanswered. No, I must be strong, or at least appear to be strong and in control of my emotions. Eileen ignored whoever wanted something more from her, more, more, more. Those people who met with her always wanted some little piece of her. Eileen wanted to scream at that soft rapping on her door; Leave me alone! I have nothing left to give!

  The door slowly opened and in came her husband, Lamar, The First Gentleman, her husband of forty years. Lamar was a retired Senator from Florida. He whispered into the dark room, “Darling, are you in here?”

  “Yes,” said Eileen, “I’m here, but I don’t think I’m fit company for anyone right now.”

  Lamar sat beside Eileen on the couch and placing his arm around her, said, “Perhaps, you’re not fit for man nor beast right now, and I can only offer a shoulder and the mature love of our forty years together.” Lamar then kissed the President of the United States on the forehead.

  He eased her onto the backrest, and the two just sat quietly as Lamar lightly stroked her left shoulder which had always been cathartic to Eileen. They sat for nearly an hour before Eileen looked at her loving husband and said, “How is it that you always know when to show up with your shoulder ready for me to lean on?”

  Lamar smiled and said, “Well, I guess I must be psychotic, er, psychic.” This small bit of humor caused Eileen to chuckle. Quietly, hand-in-hand the two left the Oval Office, followed by the duty Secret Servicemen, and returned to their quarters.

  The meeting scheduled for 19 February was canceled after each member sent word that they had found nothing to add. The techno-world was coming to an end, and the President came to the conclusion that she would just have to soldier on.

  She met with her Chief of Staff and informed him that if this coming holocaust, this apocalypse, proved to be as bad as the evidence suggested, then civilization would begin again from scratch.

  Scientists, scholars, farmers, mechanics, carpenters, along with many other skilled vocations were literally kidnapped, along with their families and secreted to the city under Mount Weather. Only then would they be told of the coming pandemic.

  There were, of course, far too many holes left in the list of needed skill sets, but there was too little time and insufficient opportunity to further expand what the President believed would be the new capital of the United States.

  18 February 2116, AD

  The Dog and Pony Bar

  Morgantown, WV

  The Dog and Pony Bar in Morgantown was old, dark, and busy, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. Two bartenders fought to keep up with orders for those fruity little sissy drinks ordered by the young freshman ladies, accompanied by dates spending Daddy’s money. Those customers who had to either work for a living or hold down a job while going to school drank mostly Bud Light or PBR.

  Bartenders, John Mills and Gale Storm, were two such students who were working their way through school. No student loans or parents who were either rich or who took out second mortgages on their homes, no, it was work hard now, and the payoff would be down life’s dusty road.

  Gale was in her second year Master’s Program in paleontology and would graduate in May. She had applied for a Sprin
g position on a dig in the Moundsville, West Virginia area, where it was hoped that the dig would finally shed some light on the identity of those ancient and unknown Mound Builders.

  She felt fairly sure that she would be selected for the paid position as she had been on three previous digs. Her last posting had been as an Assistant Team-leader on a dig team that made several new discoveries concerning the Viking settlements in Eastern Canada.

  22 February 2118

  Aboard the Astrid

  En route to Red Sands, Mars

  “Leyte Gulf: Astrid: Get Admiral King on the horn, now: Over.”

  “Roger Astrid: Wait: Out.”

  Within one moment Admiral King took the mike. “Astrid: King: Over.”

  “Admiral,” said Captain Ward, “At the 0600 change of the watch, it was discovered that many duty personnel did not report for their scheduled duty station. Upon inspection of the ship’s crew quarters, we have discovered that roughly 50% of the crew has just disappeared. They have gone into hiding, and on ships this size, with our skeleton crews, there are thousands of places for crewmen to hide. Sir, I have initiated a search, but so far, we have not found a single missing spacer. I will keep you informed as to the search results, but with our limited personnel, I am not hopeful of success.”

  “Alan, did you have any idea this would happen?”

  “No, sir, none, we just woke up this morning and found half of the crew missing.”

  “All right, Alan, please do keep us up to date.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  8 Days to Holly Thorne

  26 February 2118

  Aboard the Astrid

  En route to Red Sands, Mars

  Four days passed without finding a single missing crewman.

  Master Chief Karson, after his morning shower, donned a clean uniform and proceeded to his duty station. Karson exited the locker room and turned left toward the lift which would take him to J Deck.

  Instead of an empty passageway, Chief Karson found himself facing a heavily built man in a rumpled and dirty uniform.

  Karson’s last thought was; Oh, shit…

  The man, who was not quite a man, let out a roar and immediately struck Chief Karson on the head with a wooden club made from a broken 2X4. Kit’s brain had only begun to register the power, and pain, of the blow before his skull was damaged to the point of causing death. He was dead before his knees hit the floor.

  This scenario was followed throughout the ships as the attackers came out of hiding. Their numbers grew as the former crewmen roamed aimlessly through the companionways and became packs, attacking anyone in their path. Compartment after compartment fell to the relentless onslaught. Every deck held these sub-humans. They were dressed in uniform, but the resemblance to modern Homo Sapiens ended there.

  The Raiding Parties roamed, undetected by the Bridge Crew as the fighting began and ended so quickly. This mutiny had remained undetected until the Watch change. When only a very few responded to their duty stations, others were sent out to discover the reason.

  It didn’t take long for the searchers to begin finding the evidence of the attacks. Lieutenant Peter Proud came upon a fight in progress on A Deck and immediately reported his findings to the Bridge.

  “Captain,” whispered a frightened, Lieutenant Proud, into his communicator, “we are under attack by an alien force. Sir, they look like cavemen, but they are dressed in our uniforms.”

  Proud remained around an intersecting companionway and every few seconds he would peek around to report on the progress of the fight. With his back against the wall, Proud reported, “Sir, the aliens appear to be very strong and very quick. They seem to communicate only with primordial grunts and howls of rage. Their heads appear to be square along with the eye sockets.”

  “Pete, what type of weapons are they using?”

  “Sir, they are using fists and clubs. I have not seen any modern weapons. Let me take a quick look one more time to make sure.

  Proud eased his head around directly into a large hand that grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the wall. He was then thrown against the bulkhead which brought the loss of consciousness, and he suffered many strikes and kicks before his life force was drained away.

  “Pete, Pete, can you hear me?” shouted the Captain into his communicator. Suddenly, Proud’s communicator came to life, but the only sounds were what seemed like curious grunts and sniffing. The background noise heard before when speaking with LT Proud was now gone. That portion of A Deck was quiet as the attackers had moved on; on toward the Bridge.

  Captain Ward shouted to his Communications Officer, “Get a line to the Admiral! Now! Then send the computer logs for the last two hours to him.”

  “Aye Captain,” replied a frightened Lieutenant JG Alicia Garcia.

  It took but seconds for Admiral King to answer. “Yes, Al, what is happening?”

  “Sir, we are under attack by cavemen or aliens. They are killing everyone they come across. It will only be seconds before they are upon us.” Ward went on to describe the events leading up to his call to Admiral King.

  Admiral King was about to ask for more information when Ward shouted, “They’re here, abandon stations, fight or die!” The sounds of hand to hand combat filled the airwaves until, after only a very few minutes, the only sounds coming from Astrid were angry sounding grunts.

  “JJ, initiate thirty-eight Protocol, now.”

  Yes, sir, done.

  The survivors aboard the three mining ships felt the ship’s engines suddenly surge to full thrust as thirty-eight Protocol kicked in.

  Within a few days, the surviving cavemen were dying of thirst. By day five, there was no living thing aboard the Astrid, Phobos, or Deimos as they made their two-year voyage into the sun.

  26 February 2118

  Aboard USSN Leyte Gulf

  En route to Earth

  Admiral King was deeply affected by the plight and final disposition of his ships. He was especially saddened by the loss of his friend Captain Alan Ward.

  “JJ, patch me into Admiral Perry.”

  Yes, sir, he is ready.

  “Dolph, were you listening to the dying moments of the Astrid?”

  “Good,” said King, “I don’t relish repeating those events. Sir, I ordered thirty-eight Protocol to be put into effect, but I would like for Captain Ward to get the credit for that order. He died a hero, and I would like for him to be remembered for his sacrifices. JJ, tap into the uploaded computer logs from the Astrid and forward them to Admiral Perry.”

  Yes, sir will do.

  “Sir,” said Sky King, the Earth is about to be force-fed a huge crap sandwich. I’ll be waiting for your orders.”

  Dolph said, “Yes, I’m afraid we are. I’ll get back to you immediately following the upcoming meeting with President Greene. Are you okay, Sky?”

  “No, I am not, but yes, I will be. I hope you understand. Sir, please get all of our Spacers and their families onto transports and headed to Mars. I have a feeling that Man’s future lies there. Admiral, get yourself on one of those transports. You will be needed on Mars.”

  The Vice-Admiral hesitated before saying, “I don’t know, Sky, I’ll speak to the Prez about it. Dolph: Out.”

  26 February 2118, 1900 hours

  President’s Conference Room

  White House

  Washington, DC, USA

  Admiral Perry met with his President before the meeting and gave her the bad news. Once everyone was seated the President directed Admiral Perry to brief the Comet Committee on the events aboard the Astrid and her sister ships.

  “Madame President, as reported to this committee on 7 February, the hulls of all three of the mining vessels were holed from the debris storm which was the result of the SRI-F nuclear attack on Holly Thorne. Each ship performed a quick series of EVA missions to make temporary repairs to the hulls. The missions were completed, but unfortunately, over three-hundred crewmen were lost, including two crewmen on EVA repair t
asks were also lost into the maelstrom.

  “The forty remaining crewmen on EVA tasks reentered their ships. At this point, the mission was completed, and the three ships began the voyage back to Mars. Admiral King, then informed both Red Sands and NASA that they were ending the mission and the mining vessels had set course to return to the Mars facilities for repair and refit.

  “All communications remained normal, until the morning of 8 February. Red Sands received a message from Captain Flynn, Commanding the USSN Leyte Gulf. She stated that crew members from all three of the mining ships had become infected with a virulent strain of something with extreme flu-like symptoms.

  “Red Sands Control then informed Captain Flynn that these ships will not be allowed to dock with the Space Station until the medical emergency was ended. Once the flu had run its course, a medical team would be dispatched to evaluate the situation.

  “On 18 February, Captain Ward agreed. He also informed Admiral King that Captains Putin and Chen had not survived the epidemic. The three Mining Vessels will continue to a position beyond Mars and await the medical teams from Red Sands.

  “Admiral King’s vessels, enroute to Earth, reports that no one on the seven SDF ships has become ill. The SDF would continue to Earth and await further orders. Their anticipated arrival date is 21 March 2118.

  “Now, here is where the really bizarre part comes in. On 22 February Captain Ward reported that nearly fifty percent of his surviving crew members were nowhere to be found. They had apparently gone into hiding and would not report for duty. The Captain attempted to find these errant spacers, but they were so well hidden that their whereabouts remained unknown.”

  The President interrupted, saying, “Why would half of the surviving crew go into hiding?”

  “Madame President,” said Gordon, “at that point, the Captain had no idea what had caused this phenomenon. Four days later, on 26 February, the Captain alerted Admiral King, aboard the Leyte Gulf, that a mutiny was occurring on each vessel.”