Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn. There’d been a small explosion down by the dock, probably a grenade. He was about to look away when he saw them; two men on the roof of a warehouse. One man was kneeling, balancing a big, blocky tube on his shoulder. There was a puff from it and a darting shape came flitting directly at him. He’d trained with the FGM-148 Javelin man-portable anti-tank missile system and knew it by sight.
“Well, fuck,” he said, just before the missile slammed into the control tower and detonated, turning the structure into burning wreckage.
* * *
The Flotilla
165 Nautical Miles West of San Diego, CA
“They’re coming in hot!” Tobias called out.
“All bearing Sea-Wiz on automatic,” Gilchrist ordered. The computers could target and fire them far faster than humans could. This is it.
The radar showed five mysterious planes approaching at Mach 2. The enemy was using improved Maverick missiles which could do nearly Mach 3. They’d barely been able to shoot them down one at a time. Considering five planes were coming in at once, it wouldn’t end well. At least they seemed to have a shorter range of 10 nautical miles.
When the fighters passed within 10 nm and didn’t fire, he knew they were willing to spend themselves to get the kill. “It’s much harder to defeat an enemy that doesn’t care if he survives,” was the teaching. It was why suicide bombers were such tricky adversaries. Well, maybe they could take a few of them with them. The Sea-Wizes came alive as the fighters came under seven miles. They could begin firing at five.
“Holy crap!” someone yelled. All five enemy fighters dropped off the radar.
“Stealth?” Gilchrist asked.
“No,” Tobias said, listening to the chatter. “Spotters said all five went into the water.”
“General Rose,” Gilchrist said and laughed. “You magnificent bastard!” Tobias looked at him, uncertain. “They must have been drones. Our good General Rose took out their controllers.”
“I take back almost everything I’ve ever said about the grunts,” his XO said. Gilchrist smiled and nodded.
* * *
Kathy hung on and prayed during the fight. What else could she do? She’d done everything she could think of to help save the day. She’d hijacked the cameras with her laptop and seen the rest of the Flotilla take off in the almost magical way the alien tech worked. All of them except her ship.
She didn’t know why the Ford hadn’t gone airborne. When the first torpedo hit the ship with a sickening boom and everything shook, she stopped worrying and concentrated on prayers. She’d done it a few times in her life. She didn’t know if they helped, but she did know they didn’t hurt.
When the really big explosion happened, she’d stared in shock and horror. Was that a fucking nuke? She listened to the bridge chatter. Yeah, they were evacuating the flight deck. The Russians had fired a nuclear torpedo and destroyed the subs. Only the fighters remained.
Her laptop was recording everything. She’d set all the channels to record and had her 10tb external drive soaking up the feeds. It was an orgy of information that would take weeks to sort out. Maybe she’d even survive to tell someone about it or write the book she’d been thinking about.
Then she heard people yelling in the hallway, and she was afraid the carrier was sinking. She stuck her head out and looked. Two sailors were high-fiving each other.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The enemy are toast! The fighters crashed for some reason.”
“That’s awesome!”
Kathy went back to her space with a grin on her face. She was about to sit down at her desk when she saw the rat. She’d seen rats on the Ford before, just after coming aboard. The first person she’d complained to had laughed at her.
“Ships have rats,” the sailor had said.
“It’s a brand-new ship!” she had complained.
The sailor had laughed again. “Maybe it’s a brand-new rat.”
“Shoo!” she said and waved a hand at it. The rat turned and looked at her in a most un-rat-like manner. “Oh, oh no.” At the sound of her voice, the rat cocked its head. It was a movement she’d seen more than once from an infected. It hunched and leaped at her.
A shotgun boomed, splattering the rat all over her desk and the wall behind it. The civilians and dependents in the room screamed, many diving under chairs or into corners.
Kathy shook her head, swaying on her feet from the deafening explosion that had been a foot from her head.
Chris Tucker stepped up next to her, racking another shell into his shotgun. “Sorry,” he said over the ringing in her ears. “I came to see how you were, and I saw the rat.” He took a shell from his vest and fed it into the gun. “Didn’t have time to warn you.”
“I’m not complaining,” she said. Then she examined the gore on her desk; it was a mess of blood and rat pieces. “Hey, this explains why random outbreaks have been happening. There are rats on all the ships, and they’re infected.”
“Makes sense,” Chris said. “I’ll inform Commander Tobias so we can do something about them.” He headed for the door.
“Can you tell me about that nuke?” she called after him.
“What nuke?”
“Never mind.” She went back to her desk and wondered where they kept the cleaning supplies.
* * *
Classified Genesis Facility
San Nicolas Island
The underground dock shook, and dust rained from the ceiling. His personal guards grabbed weapons and looked up, as if they could see through the rock. Michael picked up his radio.
“Brady, report. What was that?” Only static answered him. “Brady, damn it, answer!” Still nothing. He looked at the loading process and frowned. They needed another ten minutes. Grabbing his tablet, he called up the connection with the island’s computer. None of the datalinks with the command tower were live. None of them. “What the hell?”
Michael flicked to the video surveillance system and found that the tower cameras were offline as well. Out of frustration, he moved to the dockside camera. Situated on a rooftop, the camera was facing the docked ships. He used a finger to turn the camera and watched as the burning remnants of the control building came into view. Something walked in front of the camera which immediately refocused to show a US infantry soldier in camo looking into the lens. The man cocked his head and said something.
The camera had no audio pickup, so Michael didn’t know what he said. However, another man appeared a second later. The two looked over their shoulders at the burning building and back at the lens before they flipped the camera the bird. Michael turned it off. “Son of a bitch.”
“Hurry up,” he said to the men. He didn’t bother trying to contact the troops that were still holding out. They couldn’t get to the dock in time, and there wasn’t room for more than a few anyway. There were seven more seats. A low growl escaped his throat. The Wasps were toast, the Hunters were gone. But the goddamn Flotilla was probably still there. Okay, you want to play it that way? Sure, fine.
He opened another program on the tablet. He entered a password, scanned his fingerprint, then entered another password. “Targeting Online.” A map covering about ¾ of the planet came up. He used a finger to center it just to the west of San Diego. The map was one of Chamuel’s and was about an hour old. As he zoomed in, the icon for the Flotilla appeared. He clicked on it. “Target Selected—Click and Hold to Confirm.”
“You’re goddamned right,” he said and mashed the icon with his finger for the required five seconds.
“Target Confirmed—Launch in Progress.”
“Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
* * *
Rose crouched behind the ruined WWII era flower planter and tried to catch his breath. His shoulder throbbed where the body armor had stopped the bullet. Goddamn, it still hurt. It had knocked him down, and he was sure he’d been hit. He had caught a bouncer back in 1990. It h
ad only been a big chunk of a Russian 7.62mm, but it had felt like a piece of sewer pipe in his thigh. After a few seconds, he was sure it hadn’t gotten through his armor. This hit didn’t have the deep down, messed up feeling the previous one did.
“You okay, General?”
“Fine,” he lied. “How about you, Master Sergeant?”
“Just another day at work, General!” Ayres couldn’t be more than 10 years his junior. The man had no fucking right to look so chipper.
“You find out what the explosion was?”
“Yes, sir. The squad you sent to flank the dock blew the shit out of the base control tower. All kinds of antenna and armored glass. Said some guy with bird colonel insignia was running things. Ain’t runnin’ shit no more.”
“Good,” Rose said. “Damned good. Now, if we can just convince these bastards to call it quits.”
“Comms are back!” a corporal yelled. “I got the carrier.”
“How’s it going?” Rose asked.
“They said the fighters splashed about the time our boys blew the control tower.”
“Musta been drones,” Ayres said. Rose nodded.
“Said the subs sunk too. We got them on the ropes, General!”
“Maybe we should ask those guys if they want to call it quits.” Ayres said.
Rose was chewing it over when a sound like an air raid siren echoed in the distance. A second later, a shape rose above the hill to the north. The ground vibrated, then the sound hit them. The roar of the rocket engine was horrendous.
“General, this is Pepper. You see that? It’s a goddamned MX! They’re supposed to have all been destroyed.”
“ICBM,” Rose said. The roar was decreasing as the missile accelerated into the sky, banking southward. He addressed the corporal with the radio, “Give me that radio, son, I think I know where the missile is heading.”
* * *
The Flotilla
165 Nautical Miles West of San Diego, CA
“Persistent bastard, isn’t he?” Gilchrist asked. “Radio, notify Admiral Kent. Advise him to stay clear of the blast range.”
“Can we shoot it down?” Tobias asked. You didn’t train to down ICBMs aimed at your ship.
“The Sea-Wiz can do it, in theory. San Nicolas is only 180 miles away, so this is a super short shot for a missile like that. It’ll take about 9 minutes. Tell the operators to train their weapons for vertical attack.”
“What about the alien drive?” Tobias asked.
“I had it taken apart,” Gilchrist said and shook his head. “Between the crazy ride and how it affected the nuclear plant, it seemed too dangerous. No, the Sea-Wizes are our only hope.”
As Tobias gave the orders, Gilchrist shook his head. He knew better. There was no reason to explain that the MX carried as many as 10 warheads. A MIRV missile, multiple independent reentry vehicle, it was designed to rain hell on Soviet cities and missile complexes. The cone-shaped weapons would come in at 10 times the speed of sound. The Sea-Wiz might get one, maybe two. Even if they missed, they wouldn’t be the nuke the Russians had used on the enemy subs. These would be 500kt city killers. At least it would be quick.
I wish I knew why. Why did all this happen the way it did? Now he’d never know.
* * *
Classified Genesis Facility
San Nicolas Island
Rose didn’t have to tell his men what was happening. You couldn’t grow up without seeing videos of nuclear missiles launching and learning about the Cold War. They knew all their friends and family were dead, so they went crazy. The defenders weren’t ready for the ferocity unleased by Rose’s soldiers. He’d never been prouder.
In only a few minutes, they’d backed the black clad defenders into a bunker’s opening from which it was proving impossible to dislodge them.
“Want me to have them use the last Javelin?” Ayres asked.
“If they’ve fallen back here, it means their leadership is inside,” Rose said. “I want them alive to answer for this.” Plus, Lisha is probably in there. He very much wanted to see her alive. “See if they want to give up.”
A man used a bullhorn to relay the terms of surrender. Someone on the other side took a shot at him.
“Okay, answers that question,” Rose said. He examined the tactical situation, trying to determine the best angle of attack without resorting to rockets or grenades. He wasn’t having any luck. “Ayres, you think you can use an M240 over by that building and force them back inside with grazing fire?”
“Maybe,” the master sergeant said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “We’re getting low on ammo, though. Hey, what’s going on?”
Rose turned back to the bunker just in time to see one of the black clad figures come flying out as if he had been thrown by a giant. Rose’s men were too surprised to do more than watch. All shooting came to an immediate halt as another man rolled out. This one’s head was smashed flat. It was not a pretty picture.
“What the hell is going on?” Rose wondered. A trio of black clad soldiers came running out. Rose was about to raise his weapon when a flash of light came from inside the bunker. The beam bisected one of the men neatly in two. A gurgling scream was cut off as the body fell into two parts. “Oh, shit! Was that a laser beam?”
“Everyone down!” Master Sergeant Ayres yelled.
Rose couldn’t see what followed. He heard two more screams, the last one going on and on. After a couple seconds, he stuck his head up so he could see, painfully aware of how far up his helmet rested above his eyes. All three enemy were down. The second man was still alive, amazingly. His left arm and a significant portion of his torso lay several feet away. The screaming was piteous.
“For the love of God, Ayres,” he hissed and pointed.
The master sergeant nodded and raised his M4. A single shot ended the enemy soldier’s agony.
“Advance to the bunker entrance,” Rose ordered, and gestured with his hand. The troops were a little hesitant. He couldn’t blame them; they’d just watched a fucking laser beam slice several people into chunks. He’d suffered only six casualties. Frankly, that was far less than he feared after seeing the raiders move and shoot aboard the Helix. He was hesitant to jump to conclusions, but it appeared these soldiers weren’t as well trained or equipped as the ones who’d kidnapped Dr. Breda.
Four men reached the bunker doorway, two on either side. They took out mirrors on poles and used them to check inside. A second later, they signaled the all clear. Despite the pain in his knees and shoulder, Rose was among the first up and moving across the open space. He didn’t look down as he passed the man Ayres had killed with a mercy round.
“What do you have?” he asked one of the privates who’d checked the bunker with a mirror.
“Bodies, sir. Someone or something cleaned house.”
A corporal was already moving inside, playing the tactical light on his M4 around and whistling. Rose and Ayres followed him in. It was a slaughterhouse. There were at least another ten men, all dressed in the same black combat gear and all diced up in the same hideous manner.
“Anakin Skywalker, your table is ready,” one of the soldiers said.
“What does that mean?” Rose asked.
The man looked at Rose with an embarrassed expression. “Sorry, General. You ever see Star Wars?” Rose nodded. “These guys look like they were sliced up with a light saber.”
“Ah,” Rose said. Sure, like the fucked-up dude in the cantina. He shook as he moved across the room. The area where the chopped-up dudes were appeared to be an equipment bay, a place where you could don equipment and armor. Two walls were lined with lockers and gun safes. Multiple charred lines were traced along the walls. One of the lockers was smoking, and the metal still glowed dimly. How much power had it taken to do this?
The men were examining the door on the far side. A half dozen soldiers had gathered, and they were muttering to each other. “Make a hole,” Ayres ordered, and they moved aside. The door was designed to protect high
-security facilities—two-foot thick, high-carbon steel, with massive reinforcing plates and locking bolts. They were cut roughly down the middle and then pealed back as if they were made of aluminum foil.
“Mother of God,” one of the men hissed.
Rose shook his head. The edges of the cut still glowed softly and felt hot even from several feet away. What could have done this? The door had been torn away from the room, indicating that whatever had done it and killed the enemy, had come from deeper in the bunker. Had it come up, opened the door, killed everything, then gone back inside?
“Lieutenant Drake is coming up,” Ayres let him know.
Drake had taken a squad to deal with the port distraction and had ultimately taken out the headquarters. He came in using a piece of pipe as a crutch and being supported by a private. Only two more men were with him. “Sorry we missed the party,” Drake said, looking around. “Jesus, who gave you the chainsaw, General?”
“Long story, Lieutenant.” Rose looked at the men with him. “This it?”
“Yes, sir. It was expensive. Worth it?”
“I think you saved the Flotilla.” Drake nodded and leaned against the nearest wall which hadn’t been cut up by…what, a light saber? Rose added the ten men Drake had lost to the six from his own group for a total of 16. They also had three men still ambulatory. He’d lost just about a third of those he’d brought to the island.
“The ones we fought had that fancy armor and could really fight. Good thing there were only six of them. What about this lot?”
“More like weekend warriors,” Rose said. “Decent training, but average armor. Hit them, and they went down.” He explained the light beams and how they’d found the slaughter. “No clue what did it.”
“Darth Vader?” Drake suggested. Several of the men chuckled nervously.
Turning Point (Book 3): A Time To Live Page 39