by Tom Hart
‘Shit, what the hell?’ A Chinese invasion. She stood and looked out the window of the three storey building. A normal sunny day, clear skies and a slight breeze. Two cruise ships in the harbour. Just like any other Perth day. A white helicopter flew lazily around the CBD. No doubt full of Chinese tourists taking happy snaps.
Sarah opened another diet coke. Protocol 9 was no joke. It dictated that all agents go to ground and avoid even ASIO safe houses. Communication was only via burn phones with sim cards to be replaced every four hours.
Sarah remembered how she'd laughed with the other ASIO recruits when Protocol 9 was first explained during induction. Agents were required to start building underground resistance cells and identify targets for special commando teams who Sarah was supposed to contact using a special code. She opened another application on her computer and typed in a six digit code she had been required to memorise in her first week at ASIO. A fingerprint scanner in the centre of the room clicked on. A blue light flashed to advise it was seeking user input. She placed her index finger over the scanner and hesitated. Do it Sarah a voice said in her head.
She pressed her finger against the glass. There was a soft humming noise followed by two short beeps confirming her fingerprint had been accepted. Power to the computers in the room died. A series of muffled thuds from behind a door at the rear of the office confirmed the charges in the server room had detonated and destroyed the memory banks. Sarah looked back to her computer. The screen was now blank except for a small white timer counting down from 3 minutes. She hurried to the fire stairs, pausing only to collect a small silver case from inside a steel cabinet. The last part of Protocol 9 was complete. She was halfway down the street in her Volkswagen turbo when the warehouse exploded.
Reg Sanders shielded his eyes and looked up. Boom, then another roar. It was the second time today. He waved a hand in front of his nose to ward off the large black blow fly intending to land on it. What was with these Air Force jocks?
Reg's tour bus was parked on the side of the highway next to a pair of tall gum trees. The Japanese and British tourists were happily taking photos of the undulating landscape. Reg had been running tours in Kakadu National Park for over twenty years, following on from his late father's footsteps. Another sonic boom shook the ground. Reg swore, not too loud for his customers to hear. The Australian Air Force should know better. Kakadu was a strict no fly area. The Air Force had two enormous training areas further west to practice their dog fighting. Indigenous elders like Reg found it disrespectful to the spirits when noisy jets polluted the skies above the normally tranquil plains. He would lodge an official complaint when he got back to Darwin.
A Japanese tourist yelled out and pointed excitedly over Reg's shoulder. He babbled away in his Japanese gibberish. Reg had done tours for all nationalities. He could speak fluent Spanish, French and passable German but had never been able to master Japanese. Thankfully the Japanese tour company supplied an interpreter. More tourists started pointing and gibbering away. The sole South African couple on the tour came up to Reg. ‘Hey Reg are we going to help him?’
‘Help who?’ Reg asked.
‘The pilot over there,’ the South African pointed.
Reg turned to see a motley green parachute sailing slowly downwind, a pilot dangling below. Reg had never been skydiving but people who parachuted surely didn't let their heads bounce loosely around like that. ‘Everyone back in the bus,’ Reg yelled. He gestured towards the interpreter who began rounding up the Japanese.
Reg put the big forty seater into gear and sped down the highway. The parachute was stuck in the scrub a mile down the road. Reg pulled the big bus to a noisy halt. He crossed the road, not bothering to look. The highway ran dead straight for one hundred and fifty miles and you could see other vehicles miles away from the glint of the sun reflecting on their metal bodies.
The pilot was dead. Reg could see the man's insides. He wore a tight fitting green flight suit with Australian Air Force patches. The patch on his right shoulder said 75th Squadron. His helmet was cracked down the centre and the visor smashed. He looked young, no more than twenty-five Reg thought.
Reg looked to the sky. No more aircraft he could see or hear. A malfunction maybe? Perhaps the pilot's engine had failed.
The South African couple appeared beside Reg. ‘Christ’ the husband said. ‘Oh my goodness,’ his wife shrieked.
‘Go back to the bus dear,’ the husband said. ‘I'll stay with Reg and help him with the poor lad.’
The Japanese interpreter kept the Japanese on the bus but that didn't stop them taking photos as Reg and the South African carried the pilot's body back to the bus. Reg used his trusty pocket knife to cut the parachute loose. He used a section of the chute to respectfully cover the pilot before placing the body in the cargo hold. Reg tried to use his radio to contact the highway patrol in Alice Springs to tell them he was bringing the body back but his radio was dead. Reg shook his head. He had a high powered state of the art radio and a backup. It had never failed out here before.
‘Sorry folks, I'm afraid our tour has come to an end for today. I will be taking you back to Alice Springs.’
He heard grumblings amongst the passengers. They had spent the past two days in Alice Springs and Reg knew what they were thinking. There was not much to do in Alice Springs. ‘Don't worry folks we will be back on the road tomorrow to see Uluru.’ That ended the grumbling. The giant rock was all they were here to see.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SNIPER
Tony adjusted the scope by giving the small black knob a quarter turn to the left. The image of the man in the cross hairs became crisper. Tony could see a small brown sun spot on the man's temple. He used this as his aim point, exhaled softly and squeezed the trigger. There was a barely discernible thump as the silencer muffled the shot. The bullet took almost four seconds to hit, it was a long range shot by any standard.
The Chinese General's head snapped back and he toppled to the ground. Tony shot a Chinese Colonel who stood frozen in shock but the remaining circle of Chinese Officers dove for cover before he could get off another round. A moment later the Chinese started firing wildly at the hill on the far side of the harbour where Tony had set up the decoy.
‘Scratch one Chinese General,’ Tony said to Maloney as the Sergeant folded the spotter's scope back into its carry bag.
‘Let's move before they work out where the shot came from,’ Maloney answered.
They hurried down the fire stairs of the apartment building overlooking the wharf.
Tony and Maloney reached the meeting point moments before dusk. Three other SAS teams were waiting. ‘The Chinese have a convoy of eighteen troop transports anchored five miles out to sea. They have nine warships with them,’ a worried trooper told Tony.
Another Trooper spoke up. ‘Sir, there are two corvettes inside the harbour protecting the cruise ships while they unload.’
Tony nodded. ‘Status of the wharf?’ he asked.
‘Twenty-one T-72 tanks and sixty armoured personnel carriers parked inside the Port precinct. Few infantry visible but we assume all the vehicles are crewed,’ Corporal Matthews reported.
‘They must have stripped the guts out of those cruise ships to get them inside,’ said Maloney
‘What are our chances of getting charges on the second cruise ship and using it to block the harbour?’ asked Tony.
‘Slim,’ Matthews replied. ‘They have a flotilla of seven small attack craft doing circuits plus snipers in the two derricks at the Northern perimeter overlooking the terminal.’
‘Even a night op?’ asked Tony
‘They have flood lights and dogs sir. They look like they intend to keep unloading all night. Besides it’s a full moon for the next two nights anyway,’ Matthews added.
‘Okay let's put that plan on hold for now,’ said Tony. He tried to hide his disappointment.
Maloney was looking thoughtfully at the ground. Tony noticed. ‘What are you thinking Malo
ney?’
‘I think there's a way we can still hit the cruise ship but you aren't going to like it.’
Maloney explained his idea. Tony had to admit it was a brilliant if not completely crazy plan. It might just even work.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AMBASSADOR
Robert Alexander Harrington was not used to receiving the cold shoulder from people he considered close friends. As the Australian ambassador to the United Nations he had the unexpected misfortune to be delivered a formal declaration of war by the Chinese ambassador. The declaration was typically lengthy. The Chinese could never write ten pages when they could write one-hundred.
For a declaration of war it was hardly in the usual form. Ambassador Harrington was a lover of history and had read history and law at Oxford in his younger days. He'd read most of the declarations of war made in the 20th century but the document on his desk was vastly different. Even after reading it front to back three times he still could not believe it. The third paragraph on the second page made him feel sick. It said the United States had agreed to a request from the Chinese to peacefully withdraw all US forces from Australian territory within forty-eight hours, and not to attack Chinese forces invading the country. Any US forces still in Australia at the expiration of the deadline would be treated as hostile by the Chinese military.
Ten minutes earlier Ambassador Harrington had called the US Ambassador for a bloody explanation as to why the US was walking away from a one-hundred year old military alliance like a pack of cowards. ‘It's complicated,’ US Ambassador Fisher had explained.
‘For Christ's sake Henry,’ Robert yelled at his friend. ‘What do the Chinese have that scares you so badly?’
‘An earthquake machine,’ said Henry.
Robert threw his phone at the wall smashing it to pieces. ‘Get my driver,’ he screamed at his assistant. ‘I'm going to the US embassy to get some damn answers!’
Henry said the same thing in person. He was profoundly apologetic.
‘An earthquake machine,’ Robert repeated.
‘Are you mad?’
‘I understand you are upset Robert but you have no idea how much pressure we are under from the Chinese. They have us over a barrel.’
‘This isn't some kind of Hollywood movie Henry, Australia fought along-side the US in every war for the past one hundred years including wars the US started. The whole point of an unconditional military alliance is an attack on one member is an attack on all.’
‘That was before,’ Henry said flatly. ‘If we attack, the Chinese will retaliate.’
‘You have the largest military and nuclear arsenal in the world. How on earth can they retaliate?’
‘Do you remember that Chinese passenger aircraft that crashed in Antarctica two years ago?’
‘Of course I do, it was only thirty miles from the Australian Antarctic Research Base, what's that have to do with anything?’
‘Give me a chance to explain,’ Henry said holding up a hand.
‘It was an Airbus 330 on charter to a Chinese tourism company called Antarctic Adventures. It was a sight-seeing flight out of Argentina.’
‘I know all this,’ said Robert impatiently.
Henry ignored Robert's outburst. ‘The wreckage of the aircraft wasn't all the Chinese found in the ice.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It took us a while to find out ourselves, the Chinese kept it wrapped up tight. Even our best agents had trouble getting information. When they did even the CIA didn't believe them at first.’
Robert knew Henry had worked for the CIA for most of his life, he probably still did despite being an Ambassador now.
‘They found an artefact, a giant marble sphere under the wreckage. The ice they found it encased inside was over four-hundred thousand years old. It's the size of a mini-bus and heavy. Too heavy even for their largest cargo aircraft, they had to ship it out.’
Robert was having a hard time understanding why his friend of thirty years was telling him about a heavy piece of old marble.
‘They managed to turn it on late last year.’
‘Turn it on?’ Robert raised an eyebrow.
‘You better sit down, here take this,’ Henry said as he passed Robert another whisky.
‘The Chinese detected faint levels of gamma radiation emanating from the sphere. It was also slightly magnetic. That's how they found it in the first place, pieces of the fuselage were stuck to it.’
Robert didn't reply. At least the whisky tasted normal. Was he dreaming?
‘The Chinese noticed whenever there was an earthquake somewhere around the world, especially when seismic activity was strong in the Pacific, the sphere would start to hum. Apparently it sounded like an air-conditioner. At least that's what our agent's reports say.’
Henry took a white folder from his desk drawer and removed a photograph of the sphere. He passed it to Robert. The sphere was not white as Robert had imagined. ‘Why isn't it white?’
‘Ninety percent of marble is black,’ said Henry.
Robert shrugged. A four-hundred thousand year old black marble sphere was holding the United States to ransom.
‘The Chinese mapped and recorded the sounds and worked out they were listening to a binary code which kept repeating. It took them a month to decipher it. The sphere was saying 'Input target location.' That's when our problems started.’
‘Is it a weapon?’ asked Robert.
‘The worse kind of weapon,’ replied Henry.
‘The Chinese transmitted a binary signal back to the sphere with the location of an uninhabited island off the coast of West Africa. A magnitude six point two earthquake with an epicentre two miles from the island was detected twenty-minutes later. It caused a tsunami which destroyed thirty coastal villages and killed eight-thousand people.’
‘An earthquake machine,’ Robert said to himself. ‘Why the hell didn't you tell us?’
‘We couldn't. The Chinese invited us to a demonstration off the coast of the Philippines three months ago. They used the device to destroy an island chain. It disintegrated and fell into the sea. They threatened to use it on the US mainland if we intervened during the invasion.’
‘Why didn't you tell them you would nuke them back to the dark ages? You can't let them blackmail you like that.’
‘Our President told them exactly that. You know what he is like, he is not a man to take threats lightly. But the Chinese laughed at him.’
Robert wasn't buying it. The US President had gone to war for less.
‘The sphere was not the only thing they found in the ice. They uncovered a set of crystals, similar to quartz but far denser. The crystals repel anything containing explosive material or propellant. They are particularly effective against radio-active materials like nuclear tipped cruise missiles and our ICBMs.’ Explained Henry.
‘What do you mean by repel?’
‘The crystals emit a laser like beam which obliterates incoming munitions. We sent two squadrons of stealth bombers to blast the facility where the Chinese were keeping the sphere. All twenty-four of our bombers were destroyed. Five managed to launch their nuclear warheads but the weapons were destroyed by the crystals. After that the Chinese got smart and integrated the crystals into their air defence network. A follow up swarm of two-hundred of our sub-launched cruise missiles got swatted like mosquitos.’
‘The Australian military doesn't even have twenty tomahawks and you are saying two-hundred didn't work!’ Robert said in shock.
‘It gets worse,’ Henry replied.
‘We sent in seven SEAL teams and not a single SEAL made it to the exfiltration point.’
Henry paused to take another sip of whisky. ‘The day after the failed SEAL attack the Chinese sent us a message by triggering an earthquake off the coast of Cuba, near the tip of our naval base at Guantanamo Bay. The entire facility was destroyed including two nearby U.S. Navy destroyers swamped by the subsequent tsunami. We lost over two-thousand personnel. The
Chinese told us it was our final warning.’
‘So you are saying the United States military is scared of a marble sphere and a few crystals.’
‘It's no joke Robert, the Chinese can trigger a natural disaster in any populated area in the continental United States and our nuclear deterrent has been rendered impotent.’
‘So why can't the US reverse engineer its own sphere? You said you have all the information from your agents.’
‘It's not that simple. The sphere uses technology so advanced we don't know where to start. Our best scientists think the sphere can induce graviton waves but even that's pushing the boundaries of theoretical physics. Hell Robert, we don't even know if the sphere is man-made. The Pentagon is convinced its alien.’
‘But you said it was four-hundred thousand year old ice and the Chinese communicate with it using binary. It must be man-made.’
‘Exactly, binary is a recent invention from the 1950s. Whoever built the sphere was more advanced four-hundred thousand years ago than we are now. To them it's probably the equivalent of a horse and cart to whatever they have now,’ Henry said softly.
‘So what are you going to do, call this advanced race of aliens and ask them to confiscate the sphere from the Chinese?’
‘Close,’ said Henry, his expression serious.
‘What! you can't be serious. You are telling me the US sat on knowledge of alien life for a whole year.’
‘Fifty years actually,’ said Henry quietly.
Robert stood up. He needed another whisky.
‘Let me guess you've made friends with these aliens and now they sing the star spangled banner with you?’
‘No Robert. They were dead when we found them.’
‘Dead?’
‘Dead, every one of them.’
Henry took another photo from the white folder and passed it to Robert. It was of a hexagonal shaped object sitting alongside a US army tank. Robert recognised the tank as an M48 Patton. Robert had seen them in action while serving as a young infantry Lieutenant in Vietnam. He touched the scar on his neck without thinking. Another inch and the Vietcong bayonet would have decapitated him.