Conflict!

by Dale Moorhouse

  “No, for now, that should be often enough,” I replied. “I just wanted to be sure someone was tracking it. We have a lot of Terrans from the US aboard, and I don’t want them worrying about friends and family still dirt-side. Thanks, Silent.”

  Our Intelligence Directorate or ID had taken over most of the sixth floor of our headquarters now, and I knew they had the staff to handle the extra work and could tap more talent from any of the former US people we have on board.

  I knew Pete Sandusky, the governor of California, from when he was at McGill University doing post-grad work, he was always approachable, so I decided to give him a call and get his take on what was happening. It took my assistant a couple of centas to get through to him, and I read Silent’s report while I waited.

  “Hello, Jase, I haven’t heard from you in a long time, not since you went off the grid as a matter of fact. What can I do for you?”

  “I apologize for that Pete but I didn’t think hearing from me regularly would do your career any good so I thought it best to keep my distance.

  “I’m calling because I’m getting reports about some unrest concerning the national elections and my intelligence suggests Utah and California are two areas where there seems to be a high concentration of incidents like beatings and killings at political rallies. Are my reports correct?”

  “Unfortunately, they are Jase. In fact, I’m getting reports of an attack at a rally in San Francisco where there is a gunfight going on right now. I mobilized the National Guard last night when my intelligence sources said there was something big planned for today. The terrorists and there is no other name for them now, attacked the guardsmen as they were dismounting their vehicles, and we have several dead on both sides. As we speak, I have another group of guardsmen coming in from San Jose, but they have come under fire in South San Francisco where the terrorists have used explosives to drop a bridge across their route. They are reporting sporadic gunfire that seems intended to keep them pinned down.”

  “Pete, do you want my help? I can have a ship down there in minutes to lift the bridge off the road and let your forces pass through.”

  “Yes, Jase. At this point I’ll take the help anywhere I can get it. The Feds are aware of course because I had to notify them I was mobilizing the Guard, but they made it clear there would be no other help coming. I’ve also put the state under martial law.”

  As we’d been talking, I had our ATC send a pair of Elsies down with directions to move the bridge but not to engage in any hostilities. The Elsies were well armoured and had the new generation-four shields so they should be able to get the job done. I’ve also warned them to go as stealthy as they could because there are US fighter bases nearby and they would be ordered to attack if the Elsies were detected.

  I watched from the gun cameras in the Elsies as they settled over each end of the fallen bridge and pulled it off the ground with their tractor beams then moved it to the side of the 101 freeway. One of them used its pressor beam to “sweep” the smaller debris from the road surface and then they both pulled up to a hundred metres. The National Guard vehicles started to move forward when a streak of an RPG was spotted headed for the lead truck.

  The door gunner was prepared for something like that and used her pressor beam to push the rocket back to its launcher where it exploded, taking out a group of terrorists clustered together. The resulting explosion was much more massive than it should have been and it was evident that the terrorists had a cache of reloads there and were ready for a prolonged fight.

  With the latest shields, the Elsies were almost entirely invisible from the ground, and I could see groups of people pointing to different parts of the sky as they tried to guess where the unseen craft that cleared the roadblock were.

  I’d been relaying the action to Pete who said, “I wish I had the equipment here to have watched that, Jase. It must be funny as hell watching the folks on the ground trying to figure out what is happening. Are my guys safe and moving now?”

  “Yes, they are, and I’m having my two ships escort them in case there are more chuckle-heads with ill intent waiting closer in.”

  “I owe you big-time, Jase. Once again you’ve pulled my arse out of the fire, and I have no way to repay you,” referring to the time in University when he was jumped by a Quebecois gang in downtown Montreal while going to a movie with his girlfriend.

  “You can repay me by giving me some detail about what is happening there,” I said.

  “As I’m sure you know, California has a large Hispanic population from San Francisco south. Most are US citizens, but many are not and have taken refuge in sanctuary cities that refuse to support any federal laws as regards immigration or citizenship, basically throwing out the US constitution. In many of the smaller towns, local law enforcement has given up on trying to enforce the law, especially in areas where gangs have a high profile. The people who live there can’t afford to leave and are uneducated or undereducated and heavily invested in the Roman Catholic church. They basically do whatever the church or the local gang bosses say.

  “President Smith has Spanish speakers composing her campaign adds, and they are thinly cloaked calls for civil unrest and attacks on anyone who doesn’t support her efforts to rid the country of those who ‘consort with animals’. Her people are also targeting the fundamentalists among the Muslim communities, and while there are fewer takers there, she has gotten some traction in smaller towns forcing many non-Muslims to pack up their families and leave. This social sickness has followed I-15 from LA to Salt Lake City where there are vast numbers of religious fanatics who have fallen for Smith’s call to arms. Mormon fundamentalists have joined in solidarity with the Catholics to ‘persecute the infidels’, and thousands of moderate Mormons and gentiles have fled to neighbouring states. Religious wars make for strange bedfellows. These guys were killing each other, not that many years ago.

  “I’ve sent my family to Saskatchewan to stay with distant relatives—I’m talking my whole family, in-laws included. They will be safe there behind Canada’s shield dome. If this corner of the country catches fire, I’m afraid the whole thing will go up like a tinder box. Governors all across the country have been calling me asking for advice, and I have to admit I can’t help them. Everything I’ve tried and am empowered to do has only made things worse. It’s time for me to do something I’m not authorized to do.

  “What would it take to get some of that shield technology down here so I can set up safe havens or perhaps contain the infected areas and keep them isolated?”

  “Pete, let me look into that. Are you physically in Sacramento?”

  “Yes, I am. Most of the state senators and representatives are here too.”

  “Good. Stay where you are. I’m going to have some ships come down and take station over you. You won’t be able to see them but they will be there, and they can help shield you until I can arrange something more suitable. I’ll call you back in an hour or so.”

  I knew exactly who to call next, Moshe Berlin in Israel. The IDF built the Israeli shield system almost overnight and were masters of getting in and out of hostile areas. Even better for them, they would have our help.

  17

  TWO CYCLES LATER I WAS hosting Moshe and his IDF buddies on Mother of Glory after a whirlwind of effort cordoning off the southern part of California in a line running from Benicia east through Star Lake to the Nevada border. We extended the cordon north following the Nevada border taking care to remain a hundred metres west of the state line all the way past Honey Lake. From Benicia, we went southerly to the Redwood Regional Park where we turned westerly and crossed the bay just below Alameda and hit the peninsula above Brisbane where we turned due west to the ocean.

  When we went active nothing larger than a salmon could get through in the water and nothing more substantial than a large house cat could get through by land. The barrier was configured as a wall instead of a dome and was set to pass aircraft at three hundred metres, the surrounding airports ha
d been issued bulletins. The liberal whiners went nuts. You would have thought we were roasting and eating their children.

  Pete’s response was, “You were screaming for protection. Well, now you have it. You will just have to live with it until order is restored.”

  He intended to move the shield projectors south as he pushed the terrorists back but only after his National Guard had quarantined the worst areas by locking them down with shield domes. The Guard was rounding up all the terrorists they could take alive and tossing them south of the barrier. The ones they killed were encased in large concrete blocks, taken out to sea about a hundred miles, and dumped. They didn’t even take names—there was no reason to immortalize these fools.

  Pete told me about a call he got from several small-town mayors in the LA area, “I got several requests for advice on how to deploy shields and the Mayor of San Bernardino told me an interesting story about some of the biker gangs coming to the rescue of a besieged Guard unit. Turns out, a number of the bikers are former military and decided they’d had enough of outsiders disrespecting our country and our flag. Bikers from all over the area are working with the Guard to drive the terrorists out and south to where an internment camp is being set up, they will be held there until the area is pacified. The action caught on, and hosts of civilians are joining in and rounding up suspected terrorists throughout the entire LA basin. Some of the bad guys were in pretty rough shape when they were finally turned over to the Guard.

  “It is not all good news though, I’m catching hell from the FAA for erecting ‘hazards to navigation’ near federally controlled airports, the Federal Highway Administration is screaming I have no jurisdiction over interstate highways, and the Interstate Commerce Commission is crying about the freedom of interstate commerce. The US Army is livid that I won’t release my Guardsmen so they can be federalized. The air force, navy and coast guard are being pretty cool about it, they grounded their planes, and all their ships are at sea and not due in for a couple of weeks. They even volunteered to assist where they could—they are keeping an eye out for any vessels that may be heading our way.

  “I just got off the phone with President Smith, and she is threatening to have me arrested on thousands of counts of violating civil rights. I told her to piss off—I’m protecting the civil rights of my constituents then hung up on her. Looks like no matter how this ends, I’m going to prison.”

  “Pete, I won’t let it get that far. If needs be, I will come to get you myself and take you to join your family in Canada. I’ve got staff assigned to watch over you until this is resolved and many of them are covert and four-legged. One squawk from one of them and a detail will be there within minutes. Just be good to the stray cats you see around the government buildings and your residence and don’t be surprised if they talk to you when no one else is around to hear.”

  “There has to be a good story around that, Jase. I expect to hear it when I see you next,” he replied with a laugh.

  ◆◆◆

  Moshe and I were sitting in the command centre when a call came in from Pete Sandusky three cycles later. “We are ready to push the barrier down to Gilroy. My Guard folks tell me that they have rounded up most of the rabble-rousers and what they haven’t cleaned up the locals have taken care of. We were able to find plenty of video showing how the “peaceful demonstrators” were actually inciting riots and committing acts of violence. We also found incontrovertible evidence most of the hardcore agitators have been sent in from out of state and some are even from out of the country, mostly points south. Your suggestion of declaring martial law is allowing us to classify these people as enemy combatants and question them a little more thoroughly than we otherwise might be allowed.

  “We have some disturbing info from a few of the terrorists we interrogated; someone either has or is about to smuggle in some kind of nuclear weapon, and it’s on its way to LA. We don’t know what the target is and we are trying our hardest to find out. Do you have any way to detect and track something like that?”

  “Yes, we do Pete. I’ll let some of my intel folks know what we are looking for and get back to you on that. I should caution you though, we can’t tell the difference between legitimate and illegitimate without knowing who down there the NRC is allowing possession of nuclear materials. I’ll have one of my data people try to hack the NRC database and find out, but that may take a while.”

  “Anything you could do to help, Jase, anything, is very much appreciated.

  “I met one of your operatives last night. She came in through the cat door with one of mine and is making herself at home.”

  “Don’t tell me, Pete. She weighs about four pounds, is really fluffy and looks like a large kitten. If so, that’s Pooky, and she is one of the best at infiltration—it takes a pretty cold bastard not to want to help a poor little kitten.”

  “You got it in one, Jase. I’m glad my kids aren’t here right now. They would never want her to leave if they saw her.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before, Pete. I’m going to make some calls now about your nuke problem, and I’ll be back to you in a little while, eh?”

  I closed the connection and commed Silent, letting him know the situation and what I want.

  I was sitting at my desk thinking about the situation Pete was in when I got a comm from Silent, “Ser, we have found several signatures of nuclear material. Most are isotopes used by Terra’s medical practitioners, but we have a couple just north of the border with Mexico that read as fissile material. There was one source when we first spotted them, but they have now split into two that are moving along different roads. We have an Elsie tracking each, and they report large enclosed ground vehicles Terrans call vans. A large source is moving inland and north while a smaller one is moving up a road close to the coast.”

  “Are the Elsies tractor beams able to completely enclose the vehicles?” I ask.

  “No, Ser, we would need at least a Swift Fang for that. Are you thinking about containment of the explosion? If so, be advised; a Swift Fang’s beam may be able to contain large particles and dampen the shock wave, but it can’t stop the radiation like a shield, and the two won’t work together. Your safest option is to grab the vehicles in a tractor beam and then flip them into space with a pressor. That would take only a few thousandths of a tick and humans can’t react to trigger the devices in that amount of time.”

  “I understand, Silent. I would like to interrogate the van occupants, but we will keep that option open. Do Elsie’s beams have the same range as the Swift Fangs?”

  “Yes, Ser, they do. I will keep watching them for now, perhaps they will make a stop for food or fuel. If so, should I grab up the van and dispose of it?”

  “Yes, do that. Also, dispatch two more Elsies to grab up the occupants if they leave the van. A word of advice: If the occupants stop in any major city along the way, have the Elsies grab them and flip them out of the atmosphere—don’t worry about capturing the occupants.”

  “Yes, Ser, I’ve already given that order.”

  My feeling was that the large one was going as close to Sacramento as it could get and the smaller one was heading for central LA. These were most likely to be ground bursts, and the bad guys wouldn’t be able to get close enough to Sacramento for the smaller device to have much effect. The small one should be able to take out LA, if not immediately then through the fallout. LA wasn’t cordoned off, and ground bursts are much dirtier than air bursts. I texted Pete a message letting him know what we were doing.

  I was just finishing my lunch while reviewing reports when I got another comm from Silent. “Ser, the occupants of the van, heading for Sacramento stopped in a small town called Chowchilla for food. We captured two of the three occupants, and the van was launched into space with the third occupant. We waited for the third to exit, but they never did so I gave the order to capture the two as they returned. They saw the van disappear and they are speaking with our Elsie crew. Most of what they are saying sounds like nonsense
to me, so the Elsie is bringing them to you.”

  “Are you tracking the van?”

  “We were before it blew up at an altitude of a thousand kilometres. Now it is just metallic dust.”

  “At that altitude radiation danger should be minimal. Good work, Silent. Let me know what happens with the other van.”

  I updated Pete, and he responded with, “Good, one less headache for me.”

  Fifty centas later Silent commed again, “We have disposed of the other van, Ser. It stopped in a small town off I-15, and three occupants went into a tavern. The Elsie detailed with capturing the occupants had a couple of scouts on board, so it dropped them and waited for a report. The scouts were able to sneak in through an open back door and observed the targets while they sat at a table and drank beer. After a while, the targets mentioned it was time to get back on the road if they were to be in central LA in time to start the trigger and retreat to a safe distance. The scouts were relaying the conversation to the Elsies, and one grabbed the van and took it to space.

  “When the targets came outside and saw the van was gone they panicked. We grabbed them as they were about to make a call, retrieved our scouts, and they are on their way to us. They aren’t talking other than to demand a lawyer, whatever that is. They and their companions from the other van should be here in a couple of decas.”

  “Great news. What happened to the van?”

  “The Elsie crew took it to our ordinance disposal site on the moon and hoped to get details you might need to track down its origin.”