These Few Brave Souls

by Rodney Manchester

  The Navy now had two carriers off the Peruvian coast. They were providing F-18's and F-14's as well as their own version of Wild Weasel's in the form of EA-6B's and special F-18's. The modified A-6’s were affectionately called Prowlers and they performed the same function for the Navy as the EF-111A, Raven, did for the Air Force. And just as well, he grudgingly admitted to himself.

  All in all, he felt reasonably confident in their ability to destroy the current threat on the ground and in the air above it. They had the right airplanes, the right equipment, the right people, and the right doctrine. All proven several years earlier in the desert skies over Iraq. The emissions were different but the principles remained the same. That still left the BIG hole.

  By leaving the satellite in orbit unmolested, they ran the risk of merely setting the colonization back a few weeks. They could obviously make future incursions more difficult in ways similar to what they had planned, but it would simply be just that, more difficult. The Aliens were obviously a long way from their base of supply so any losses they suffered could not be replaced, but the Air Force had no way of knowing just how many supplies they had in orbit. Plus, of course, was the stated threat from the Alien that they could sterilize the entire planet seemingly at will.

  The bottom line was that they must eliminate the satellite.

  Nuclear weapons were the obvious and only choice.

  There were, however, some monumental problems associated with the use of nuclear weapons. The size of weapon employed had to be sufficient to destroy the satellite from the point of projected interception and this, presuming success, left a gigantic EMP, or electromagnetic pulse. This huge electrical spike would virtually destroy any electronic device not properly isolated. And the cost of isolation was enormous.

  It would also expose a very large population to the direct exposure to the initial explosion, complete with all kinds of nasty radiation. The list expanded from there and all of it was bad news.

  None of the potential problems were desirable, yet they were better than the alternative of sterilization.

  That was one choice he was glad that he didn't have to make. Harry Truman had had a sign on his desk that said 'The Buck Stops Here'. The occupant and the desk were different but the concept was the same. The President would have to make a decision that could change the course of human history. Or end it.

  Just then, Steve Bermin entered the room. His once lean frame, compact at one hundred seventy pounds, had grown leaner in the past week. Always one to keep in shape by running several times per week, he had neglected that ritual during his Presidency. The constant high tension since his inauguration had been the protein he thrived on. The crisis situation he now faced, however, was more than a little overwhelming. It would have been devastating to a lesser person and in fact was nearly tearing the President apart.

  He listened patiently as General Easterly reviewed his proposed battle plan. It sounded good, all except the BIG hole.

  "So, let me get this straight," said Henry Lawson. "We modify a Saturn booster to carry a nuke. Then we launch it at the satellite. We detonate the weapon just when we anticipate its interception by the UFO’s. Is that right?"

  "Yes, sir," replied General Easterly.

  "How do we know where it will be intercepted?" asked the President.

  "Well, there are two ways we could do it. First we have computed the interception point for the CIA's bird that got bumped, but we don't think that would work very well because of the different trajectory involved. What we recommend is preparing two Saturn rockets. The first to be used so that we can watch an actual interception. Once we have the location, we can choose the smallest weapon that would do the job, reducing the ancillary effects and holding down collateral damage. Then we load the weapon on the second booster and do it."

  Steve Bermin paused a moment, staring at the wood paneling, thinking that as he got deeper into this crisis, his options seemed to get more and more restricted. Christ, they want to set off a nuke in orbit, probably a big one. "Give me an idea about the size of weapon we will probably need."

  "One to sixty megatons, depending on where the intercept takes place." Easterly watched the Presidents face drain off what little remaining color he had.

  Why me, he thought. Why couldn't he have let that southern clod kicker win again? If only he had muffed a few campaign appearances, uttered a few stupid lines, then he would have lost.

  Well, probably not. Too many failed policies had the American people screaming for change. Change that he engineered to reverse failed agendas. Besides, he doubted that his predecessor had the balls to make a really tough decision. He wondered if he did. Oh God, please let this be right he silently pleaded.

  The President cleared his throat and looked at the table. He noticed for the first time that the wood had a fine grain that was superbly finished. He rubbed his hand over the smooth wood as he said, "Launch the test rocket. Arrange all the details for the attack, but hold there. I want to make the decision to go or not at the proper time."

  "Yes, sir. It's almost an eight hour flight to Peru so they have to launch before you give the word. We can have them hold enroute and wait for your command."

  "Fine. Do it." That was easy so far. The toughest part would be living with himself later. If there was a later.

  An Air Force Major entered the room and marched over to General Easterly and handed him a note. The General read it in silence and shook his head.

  "Anything important?" inquired the President.

  "It seems the Navy just lost the UFO that they had shot down."

  "How did that happen?"

  "They say that it just took off with three of their experts on board. The temporary structure they had built to cover it was violently ripped apart when it took off, killing four sailors."

  Steve Bermin felt the additional deaths weigh upon his soul. Each incident added to the burden of command that he alone must carry. He wanted to leave this load to others, yet as President, he must be the one to shoulder the freight. If it were just him, he might succumb, but the entire world was looking to the United States for leadership. He could not imagine letting everyone down.

  CHAPTER 43

  Recon Marines

  Pacasmayo Sand Dunes

  Tony Benuchi's squad led as the party wended its way through the sand. Sinking ankle deep with every step made walking very difficult and Tony's thigh muscles had begun to ache. A foot heavy with several ounces of sand became a burden very quickly, even for a man in superb physical shape. Sweat ran its gritty path from his face down into his shirt, clearing the way for a future drop of the deserts precious liquid.

  They crept their way up to the top of a sand dune and paused as Lieutenant Murphy came up.

  "We should be getting close, sir," stated Corporal Benuchi.

  "Yeah, we are Corporal." Nicholas looked at his Global Positioning System hand held computer and said, "That way, about two klicks." He pointed almost due east. He was joined by Captain Marsh and together they discussed the approach they would take to the UFO Park.

  The air about them was shattered by an almost physical wall of sound that assaulted their senses. Stunned by the intensity of the noise, Lt. Murphy stood motionless and let his body recover. High above them and to the east was a silvery streak of incredible speed.

  As the noise washed over them and faded away, the Marines and the SAS continued their journey toward the UFO Park now closer than ever.

  Two Klicks east

  Captain Victor Winfred heard the sonic boom and slowly crept to their lookout position. He stopped at the top of the dune and spoke to PFC Gordon, on watch.

  "See anything?"

  "Negative, sir."

  "Okay." He lay quietly in the late afternoon heat and watched the circle of vehicles surrounding the modular building. His attention was drawn to movement in the periphery of his vision. Off to his left was a round UFO coming in to land.

  As it neared, the now familiar hum returned wit
h amazing intensity. His ears quickly became inundated with the overpowering sound. It stopped abruptly as the UFO touched the still hot sand.

  Victor Winfred looked hard at the addition to his corral of strange craft. It was the larger model of the vehicles and could in fact be the one that left earlier.

  Gordon spotted it first. A panel, probably a door of some kind, opened in the side of the UFO and a ramp extended down to the sand. Captain Winfield pointed his field glasses in the proper direction.

  The glasses were supported by Victor's elbows resting on the sand. He had a very stable view of the glass-like container carried from the craft by robots. About the size and shape of large coffin.

  On board the UFO

  High above the coast of central Peru

  Warren was roused from his self-pity and drawn back to immediate reality by the change in pitch of the wind rushing through the door. He crawled back up the narrow path and into the main access way. He turned toward the door and moved to the edge.

  Here, right at the opening, he felt the powerful turbulence from the passing wind. They were over land now, desert really. A narrow ribbon of road weaved its way through the sands below.

  As their altitude decreased, he could see a collection of several UFO's surrounding a rectangular building. As he studied this view, it became clear that this was their destination.

  Warren turned and shouted at his companions, confident that he could now be heard in the reduced wind noise. Moments later his foot was tugged on and he retreated from the opening. He turned around and made his way back to the crawlspace junction where Christopher and Sarah waited.

  "We're landing," he said. "Some desert somewhere, probably in Peru. There are other UFO's out there parked around some building."

  "So, what do we do now?" mused Christopher aloud.

  "We try and escape, that's what!" Sarah was forceful in her reply. "And shit for brains goes first!"

  Warren met her glaring eyes with his and felt some confidence return. Sure, he had made a mistake, but everybody does occasionally. The time for self-flagellation was over. And besides, this lady was an amateur in her attempt at making him feel guilty. She could have taken lessons from his father. Hell, even the devil himself could have taken lessons from him.

  "Miss Von Framden, waste your scorn on someone else. I made a mistake but I'm not worthless, no matter who thinks so. As for me leading, you bet! Follow me if you can keep up!"

  Warren turned again and crawled to the open hatch on knees that were beginning to be rubbed raw by repeated abuse.

  Christopher looked at Sarah and smiled. Shaking his head, he followed his friend in the direction of the open hatch.

  Sarah, left to herself, frowned at the pair of men. This was so typical, she thought. Always ready to charge.

  Pacasmayo Sand Dunes

  Marine Lieutenant Nicholas Murphy was talking with his newly met Army counterpart when the approaching craft caught his attention. Together with Captain Winfred, they crept up to the military crest of the sand dune they were hiding behind. They reached the top just in time to see the new addition hover briefly and land.

  Seconds later they were shocked to see three people scamper from an open hatch. They ran funny for the first few steps, almost as if they were stiff from prolonged cramping in the same position. Nicholas was further surprised to discover that one of the runners was a female.

  Captain Winfred was pleased to see that the path the runners took brought them almost directly toward one of his outposts. The first two made it over the hill quickly leaving their companion behind. When she finally disappeared behind the piled sand, he nudged the Marine Lieutenant and they crawled back down the hill.

  At the bottom, he whispered to Nicholas that they should slowly proceed around the dune toward the outpost in question.

  Even though they were out of direct line of sight of the UFO Park, they moved slowly and carefully. The high flying craft above might just be watching and a quick movement could cost them their lives. Or so the theory went. Neither one of them was eager to test the working hypotheses that had protected them to date.

  Nicholas was pleased to see the Army Special Forces Captain move slowly. Knowing that there were aircraft above had made him feel naked in ways that clothes couldn't mask. His movements were practiced and sure, imparting confidence to Lieutenant Murphy.

  Several minutes later brought them around the shifting sand and face to face with an Army Sergeant who had all three runners face down in the sand. Beside each of them was a small pile of papers and other miscellaneous pocket items.

  "Good work Sergeant, what do we have?" Captain Winfred had a slightly amused tone in his voice.

  "Their papers say one Air Force Lieutenant and two civilians, sir." When Sergeant Ishlan put down the three, he had been sure it was the right thing to do. Then he found the military I.D. card, identifying one of these guys as an officer and he had gotten worried. Still, this wasn't a parade ground and the guy wasn't wearing a uniform, only coveralls. He then decided to wait. He knew it wouldn't take long before Winfred arrived. He was a good officer and would know that he had done the right thing.

  Then he noticed the stranger.

  Lieutenant Nicholas Murphy was not very impressive to a man who made his living working with really tough people. He was wearing desert camouflage with USMC stenciled over his right shirt pocket. On each lapel was a patch with a single black bar. Even though he had taken the time to shave, his rumpled and dirty appearance gave away the fact that they had spent several days in the field. Then he noticed the Lieutenant's steel grey eyes and saw they hadn't missed a thing. There was more to this man than met the eye.

  "Are you guys American?" The voice came filtered through sand and originated from one of the three.

  "Yeah. Get up slowly and tell me what's going on," Captain Winfred said.

  "Who are you guys and what are you doing here?" Sarah Von Framden was not used to being thrown down into the sand, let alone having the hot steel of a gun barrel shoved into her neck. Why, she had almost wet herself from her abuse. Men! If they can't dominate you with their intellect, then they dominate you with force.

  Ignoring the woman struggling to regain her dignity, Winfred asked "Who is Lieutenant...," he paused as he went through the cards handed to him. "Harlin," he finished.

  "I am. I was with the Second Satellite Tracking Group in Sunnyvale, California," his eyes then found the insignia of rank sewn on the officers collar and he appended his remarks with "sir."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "We were on the USS Coronado heading toward San Diego when the UFO took off."

  "You were inside a UFO?"

  "Yeah, the Navy shot it down a couple days ago and we were the first investigators."

  "The Navy shot down one of these?" Captain Winfred had wondered what the rest of the world was doing while he played in this giant sand box.

  "Yeah. I mean yes, sir."

  Sarah snickered at their ridiculous military courtesy. Really, grown men playing war games was enough to make you sick. All these guys had managed to do was screw everything up!

  Ignoring the self-important woman, Captain Winfred directed their careful journey back toward their now crowded joint forces base. Shortly thereafter, like E.T., he phoned home.

  RAAF Base Curtin

  Derby, Australia

  Two EA-6B jamming aircraft landed and taxied to revetments along the runway. Piloted by US Navy Lieutenants off the USS Enterprise, They were a welcome addition to the growing strike package being assembled.

  Lieutenant James Weaver exited the aircraft and joined his fellow naval aviator, Lieutenant Wilson Reynolds in climbing into the Hummer that had been following them down the taxiway.

  At the terminal building, they were met by the base commander. “Welcome gentlemen,” said Major Geoff Helps. “I think we’ve got a job for you.”

  CHAPTER 44

  White House Situation Room

  Washington,
DC

  "The Spec War people report that a coffin shaped clear box was removed from the large UFO that we tracked from the orbital ship. The contingencies group feel that it is another colonist. They probably use the same ship to transfer themselves. It appears to be the same one the first Alien came down in." Navy Captain James Alistair was nervous in the presence of the Commander-in-Chief, even after four months of Presidential briefings.

  "They're sure it’s the same ship?" The Presidents interest perked up.

  "No, sir. They think it is. It is definitely the same type, but there are no identifying marks."

  "I see." Steve Bermin paused, then turned to General Easterly. "Bill, can we shoot it down?"

  "Probably. But in doing so we would expose one of the aces up our sleeve. We would have to jam their radar and that would let them know we can do it. Then they change their system and we start over. We need things the way they are so that we stand a reasonable chance of getting through their defenses. The Saturn test rocket should go up any moment and then we will have some hard data on the size nuke we'll need."

  A piece of paper was thrust in front of Captain Alistair. He read it quickly and cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, The Navy reports that the UFO that got away just landed in Peru and the Spec War people say that the passengers ran right into them at the UFO Park. They have identified them as the three experts who were aboard when it took off."

  The President turned to General Easterly and said, "If we can't shoot it down, can we blow it up? Preferably when it’s inside the mother ship in orbit." The President didn't seem to hear Captain Alistair.

  Another piece of paper was placed on the podium behind which the Navy Captain stood. "Sir, the Saturn test rocket just blew up on the launch pad."