EMPIRE: Intervention (EMPIRE SERIES Book 13)

by Richard F. Weyand

  “Direct hit, Ma’am,” Command Sergeant Major Gordon said. “Nice shooting.”

  “Well, it was a stationary target, Sergeant Major,” Brigadier General Turley replied. “It’s not like it was going anywhere.”

  “Yeah. I never liked that about buildings, Ma’am. I like to be able to drive around.”

  “Spoken like a true tanker, Sergeant Major.”

  “Always, Ma’am.”

  “Now to see if Mr. Mieland has reconsidered his position on retirement.”

  Turley placed a call to Mieland through her communications center.

  Mieland took the call, standing there in the ruin of his office. He couldn’t sit in his desk chair. The back of it had been impaled with dozens of shards of glass. His mouth was dry and felt dusty.

  “Yes,” he croaked.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. President. I called to ask if you had reconsidered your position with regard to retiring from the presidency.”

  “And what choice do I have?”

  “None whatsoever. I have enough of those gravity bombs to destroy every building in the Government Center Complex, just like the Security Ministry. But the next one is for the Executive Building.”

  “And your terms, General Turley?”

  “I’m prepared to be gracious, Mr. President. You retire and live out your life as the honored ex-president. No charges, no trials, no retributions. But, in turn, it must be a true retirement from politics. No public speaking, no political involvement, no rabble-rousing.”

  “Or else?”

  “Those are the terms, Mr. President. Your life, for no political involvement. If you break those terms, it’s your life on the line.”

  “And the resistance? Are they prepared to accept those terms?”

  “It was the resistance that proposed them, Mr. President.”

  “Really.”

  Mieland looked out at the Security Ministry building wreckage. The dust was being swirled up by the gust front of the incoming storm. Thunder boomed in the distance.

  “Very well, General Turley. I accept your terms. I surrender.”

  “I’ll need you to make a statement for me, Mr. Mieland.”

  “Record this, General Turley.

  “Citizens of Julian. This is James Mieland, president of the Julian government. Circumstances require that I step down as your president. I am therefore retiring the presidency, effective immediately. I am entrusting the government to Brigadier General Ann Turley, to serve as caretaker president until new elections can be held. It has been my honor to be your president, and I wish all the best for Julian and all its citizens in the future. Good bye.”

  Turley sat stunned after Mieland’s statement. She looked to Gordon, there in the cramped ACV, and raised an eyebrow. Gordon shrugged.

  “Me, Mr. Mieland?” Turley asked over the VR call.

  “Of course, General Turley. You have the guns. And the one with the most guns always rules. Any pretense to the contrary is a fiction.”

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon. The active phase of the operation had lasted just six hours.

  The Verano Operation

  The situation on Verano was similar, but the differences necessitated a different tactical plan, which had been worked through by the team in VR in late night planning sessions conducted from their beds when the ‘Fuerza Secreta’ thought they were asleep.

  “The issue here is the Fuerza is distributed in several locations around the city, mostly in the outskirts, while President Elizondo isn’t in the capital at all,” said Humberto Noguera, a.k.a. Command Sergeant Major Roberto Cabrera. “He rules the planet in VR from his estate, which is over here.”

  Cabrera pointed to the map, which showed ‘Il Refugio’ about a hundred miles south of the city, on the coast. It was a rocky near-island, reached by a bridge from the cliffs along the ocean.

  “All the better to hide the sybaritic splendor in which he lives,” said Morena Prieto, the Section Six member of the team. In VR the trio sat around a tactical map, while in reality she was sprawled across Noguera in a tangle of arms and legs on the bed in their hotel room.

  “Yes, it’s a much more distributed environment than Julian, where everything is concentrated in the city center,” said Hodei Barros, a.k.a. Brigadier General Jorge Vargas. “Though I think Elizondo’s situation makes that part of the job easier. Bomb the bridge and block his VR and he’s cut off from everything and everybody.”

  “That works for him, but what do we do about the Fuerza?” Prieto asked.

  “Their locations are here, here, here, and here,” Noguera said, pointing them out on the map. “So at least we don’t have to drive through the downtown to get from the spaceport to the police locations, like General Turley does. Their big location, and their marshaling yard for their equipment, is here in the south, between Elizondo’s estate and the city.”

  “Which is around the city from both the spaceport to the west and the mountains to the north,” Barros said. “I think we hit the marshalling yard, destroy their heavy equipment from the air, as soon as the operation gets started.”

  “And the headquarters itself?” Noguera asked.

  “If we bottle it up with APCs from the spaceport early, I think that works,” Barros said.

  “Do we leave the spaceport uncovered, then?” Noguera asked.

  “No, we still have air cover. I think we put two flights up right away, have one take out the marshalling yard and Elizondo’s bridge, then they come back down to rearm and leave the other in the air. And the armored column will be there pretty quickly.”

  “What about the other three Fuerza locations?” Prieto asked.

  “The armored companies get to the one in the north early,” Barros said. We split off a group to their eastern center and drop one at their northern center, then the bulk of the force goes to the spaceport. Most of them can cut across the spaceport to circle around to the southern headquarters complex in the most expeditious way.”

  “They can pick up this highway on the south end of the spaceport for the approach,” Noguera said. “Assuming everything goes as planned.”

  “If it doesn’t, we take out the headquarters from the air, Barros said. “I have a bunch of those GDPs we can use.”

  “So we have a plan?” Prieto asked.

  “We have the start of a plan,” Barros said. “Now we need to work through all the details. Movement orders, contingencies, decision points, fallback plans. The whole lot.”

  “I didn’t realize so much planning went into this sort of thing.”

  “A long planning cycle makes for a short operations cycle,” Noguera said.

  These planning sessions had run through the months-long build-up to the actual operation, always carried out in VR after they were all in bed.

  To keep in the character of their ‘big construction guy and his hot mistress’ personae, Noguera and Prieto did have regular and sometimes wild lovemaking sessions throughout this period. Neither got romantically involved – it was a necessary part of their cover, and neither was the other’s preferred type – but it did make for a more enjoyable assignment.

  When training day finally came, the operation almost came off without a hitch.

  ”Go Active. Go Active. Go Active.”

  “Flight Alpha, you are cleared for take-off. Shuttle Delta Two, you are cleared for take-off. Flight Bravo, stand by for take-off.”

  Seven assault shuttles spooled up and ascended vertically, following two-dozen aerial surveillance drones. One shuttle leveled out and headed south-southeast, toward Il Refugio, while the others headed southeast, toward the headquarters of the Fuerza Secreta.

  “Flight Bravo, you are cleared for take-off.”

  Six more assault shuttles spun up and took to the air.

  “Shuttles Delta Five and Delta Six, You are cleared for take-off.”

  Just two shuttles spun up and took to the air, but they kept going up, clawing their way toward space.

  Shuttle Del
ta Two was in continuous contact with its base controller as it approached Il Refugio.

  “Target acquired.”

  “Delta Two. Weapons free. You are cleared to fire.”

  “Firing four.”

  Four rockets shot out from the shuttle’s launchers, then arced toward the ground. They struck the four corners of the center deck of the bridge over the chasm separating Il Refugio from the escarpment of the mainland. The center deck broke free and fell into the chasm.

  “Positive on target. Bridge splashed.”

  “Delta Two. Engage second target.”

  The weapons officer of the assault shuttle selected the tags on the radio facility of the estate, both the antenna tower and the communications equipment shed at its base.

  “Target acquired.”

  “Delta Two. You are cleared to fire.”

  “Firing two.”

  Two more rockets shot out from the shuttle’s launchers, then arced to the ground. They struck the equipment shack and the base of the antenna for the estate’s VR system. Pieces of the shack and its equipment pinwheeled through the air, and the antenna slowly fell to the ground.

  “Positive on target. Communications down.”

  “Delta Two. Return to base.”

  “Roger that. Returning to base.”

  The Fuerza Secreta used secure channels within the public VR system, and did not have their own system, so their communications were harder to take out than the VR system for Il Refugio or the Secret Police on Julian. So instead of doing long-term damage to the VR system, General Vargas’s communications center concentrated on a denial-of-service attack to swamp the local system and deny the Fuerza reliable communications.

  Flight Alpha was tasked with the equipment marshalling yard of the Fuerza Secreta headquarters. They were loaded with MAPs, to take out the vehicle park and render the Fuerza immobile. Their targeting was coordinated from the air combat section of air traffic control.

  “Flight Alpha, primary targets acquired under central control. Weapons free. You are cleared to fire.”

  All six shuttles fired on all launchers, and twenty-four missiles shot out from the flight and toward the headquarters, now half a mile away. The missiles arced down to the ground and impacted vehicles across the marshalling yard.

  The combat controller for Flight Alpha had the marshalling yard under surveillance, of course, and set up his target list for the next round of missiles.

  “Flight Alpha, secondary targets acquired under central control. Weapons free. You are cleared to fire.”

  Twenty-four more missiles shout out from Flight Alpha’s launchers and arced to the ground. Explosions once more rippled across the marshalling yard.

  “Flight Alpha, return to base.”

  On the highway to the mountains to the north of San Jacinto, the containers of Colonel Javier Araya’s armored force were lined up along the verges of the highway over the pass they were expected to widen and improve. His armored column pulled out of the containers almost directly onto the highway and sped toward San Jacinto. With them were Vargas and Cabrera in Vargas’s ACV.

  When they reached the northern police location, General Vargas detached a platoon of tanks and APCs to the location, sent another platoon of each to the eastern location, and proceeded with the rest of the armored force around the western verges of the city.

  Vargas detached a company of tanks and one of APCs to the spaceport as he passed, and kept on across the spaceport to the relief of the APCs at the Fuerza’s headquarters.

  The APCs from the spaceport were having a tough time of it at the Fuerza’s headquarters on the south side of San Jacinto.

  “The problem is they’re deploying grenadiers under covering fire from those two big buildings, Sir. We can’t keep up with them. And we can’t dismount or move the resistance up under that covering fire. The grenadiers on the ground are pushing us back. I’ve lost three APCs already.”

  “Understood, Major. Relief is on the way.”

  “How soon, Sir? Our position here is not good.”

  This was one of the decision scenarios General Vargas and Command Sergeant Major Cabrera had anticipated, and Vargas made the call. He sent the order to air support.

  “Shuttles Delta Five and Delta Six, release weapons.”

  “Weapons released.”

  Both shuttles of Flight Delta, now dozens of miles in the air, released one GDP.

  Vargas hit the all-hands channel.

  “GRAVITY BOMBS!”

  The troops in the beleaguered APC company grabbed handholds and thanked the gods and brass above.

  Then the ground shook with two sharp shocks.

  “Dismount!”

  Troopers streamed out of the APCs and swept forward against the grenadier teams. The resistance units moved up to join them.

  “Holy shit! Would you look at that.”

  “Yeah. This don’t look like the simulation. Where’d those two big buildings go?”

  “Cut the chatter, guys. Let’s track down those grenadier teams before they kill our rides and drivers. Engage infrared target finders. No IFFy-cover, take ‘em down.”

  Vargas’s armored column arrived at the southern Fuerza headquarters thirty minutes later, coming in behind and past the APCs. Once the infantry had cleared out the streets and alleys, they moved forward into positions against the headquarters complex.

  Much of it was a smoking ruin now. The two big office buildings up front were down, and the marshalling yard was a junkyard of destroyed vehicles. Barracks, mess halls, and motor pool buildings survived, but, after the ground and air shock waves of those two gravity bombs, they were somewhat the worse for wear.

  Vargas sent orders to his communications center, and they started swamping VR channels with surveillance video of the destruction of the southern Fuerza headquarters along with a demand for surrender.

  At all the Fuerza locations, bewildered staff and police started surrendering, first in small groups, then en masse.

  General Vargas had his communications center re-enable the QE links, which came up without difficulty. He also had them cease disrupting the public VR channels.

  Juan Baptiste Elizondo, though, was a more difficult issue. His local VR was destroyed. Vargas had a communications team go down there in an armored shuttle and set up on the mainland escarpment a VR transceiver covering Il Refugio. They did it behind a small rise of the cliff’s edge, so they would not be exposed to small arms fire from the island. They raised the antenna so it stuck well up over the rise and covered the island estate.

  Having re-established communications to the island, they withdrew and returned to base.

  When VR communications was re-established, President Elizondo brought himself up to date on what had happened. He ignored ‘Brigadier General Vargas’ attempting to call him, and instead logged an urgent VR meeting request with the Emperor.

  The Emperor took his meeting despite the late evening hour in Imperial City, but he was less than sympathetic to the president.

  “It seems you’ve been retired in place, Mr. President.”

  The Emperor also spurned any attempt by the president to get the Empire involved in the situation on Verano.

  “I am not allowed by my own Imperial charter to interfere, Mr. President. You know that. You’ve relied on it for the past twelve years.”

  After the unsuccessful VR meeting with the Emperor, Elizondo took Vargas’s call.

  “What do you want, Señor Vargas?”

  “I was hoping you would officially step down as president of Verona, Mr. President. Retire from politics. I think it would make it easier on everyone.”

  “I am disinclined to do that, Señor Vargas.”

  “Ah. Very well. Call me when your food runs out, Mr. President, and we can talk again.”

  Elizondo said nothing as he considered his very limited options.

  “We’ll talk to you then, Mr. President,” Vargas said.

  “Wait. What are your terms?”<
br />
  General Vargas had already spoken to General Turley, as well as to the local resistance leader, and he had a reply ready.

  “Honored retirement as the former president. Keep your estate. No charges, no trial, no retribution. But also no politics, Mr. President. No interference. No endorsing candidates for election. No speeches. A quiet retirement, out of public life.”

  “And if I refuse, Señor Vargas?”

  “There are disadvantages to being president-for-life, Mr. President.”

  “I see.”

  In the end, Juan Baptiste Elizondo retired. He gave a longer speech than Mr. Mieland had, but he was gracious in defeat. Like Mieland, he turned the government over on an interim basis to the outside commander, Brigadier General Vargas, and for much the same reason.

  “Of course, Señor Vargas. It is you who has all the guns.”

  The active phase on Verona was over.

  Immediate Aftermath

  It was just after 3:30 when Sergeant Major Janos Paszek walked out to the podium and addressed the room. There had been no incidents during the day, with groups of three rows each of the captive officer corps of the Secret Police taking their turn stretching their legs, getting snacks, or hitting the bathrooms. In fact, a nice catered lunch had been served.

  “All right, gentlemen. Please listen up.”

  The room quieted down and the assembled officers paid attention.

  “The active portion of our operations here is ended. President Mieland has stepped down, and retired from politics.”

  There was a lot of chatter following that announcement, and Paszek waited for it to die down.

  “He has turned the government over to our commanding officer, Brigadier General Ann Turley. She has dissolved the Secret Police, so you are all out of jobs for the moment. I will turn off the VR suppressors now so you can verify what I say if you wish. You’ll have to use the public channels. The Secret Police’s secure VR system was broken during the operation.”