The Peacekeepers. Books 4 - 6.

by Ricky Sides

  At dawn, Jim, Pete, and Tim had another conference via radio. The topic of their discussion was the raid by the gunships the previous night. Pete wanted to know how the gunships had managed to penetrate the defensive screen of fighters and drones. Tim addressed the issue when he explained, “I spoke with the pilots who originally gave the alert. They tell me that the gunships came in low. They flew over a river just above the water until they penetrated the outer perimeter of our air defenses. Once they were past the defensive ring, they went to one thousand feet and turned on the speed in their attack run.” Pausing, Tim said, “We were lucky in that they made their initial pass with the miniguns instead of missiles.”

  “Three dead peacekeepers weren’t so lucky, but I know what you mean,” Pete responded. “If they’d launched all their missiles in the first pass, then the death toll would have been much higher.”

  Pete then asked Tim why there was a delay between the fighters reported sighting of the incoming gunships and an intercept of the hostiles. “They were on the wrong side of the chasm when the pilots first spotted the helicopters,” Tim explained.

  Pete understood the problem the pilots would have faced if they were on the wrong side of the chasm that had opened up in the ground in that area. On the night of the quakes, such rifts had opened up in numerous places throughout America. That particular chasm was several miles long and hundreds of feet deep in places. It was too wide for peacekeeper ships to fly across in safety, so it would have been necessary to detour around the obstacle. Pete found it ironic that a hole in the ground could just as effectively block their aircraft as a sheer escarpment a thousand feet tall. But their flight technology did not operate on the concepts of air density and the airflow generated lift that traditional aircraft utilized. The moment they flew over such a hole in the surface of the earth they would drop like a rock to the altitude at which they had the controls set to fly. There were rifts in the earth that, once a peacekeeper aircraft had stumbled into, it wouldn’t have the altitude capability to escape.

  “Pete, this just doesn’t make sense to me,” Jim stated. He’d tried to reason out what had prompted the gunships to make that suicidal attack, but nothing he’d come up with seemed plausible. “There was no way that they could have destroyed our fleet, even if they’d launched all of the missiles on the first run. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Neither did the armored column attack they tried to pull off at the citadel yesterday afternoon,” Pete countered. “Perhaps the commander thinks he can win a war of attrition against us,” Pete speculated. Then he said, “But I’m beginning to think we have a worst case scenario. We have a professional army to deal with that is being commanded by a lunatic. That means we cannot count on the commander behaving in a logical manner. He could do just about anything.”

  “Then I suggest you send Namid and her flight on their mission earlier than planned,” Jim stated.

  “They are exiting the base now,” Pete responded.

  ***

  The commander of the UN base studied the map on the wall carefully. With him were his top officers who would be responsible for carrying out his orders as they made their move to take portions of America back from the Americans and return it to Spanish control. San Francisco was just the start. Geraldo Raul Fernandez planned to take back all of the land that Spain had once controlled and a significant portion that it never had controlled. In short, the commander planned to take the entire North American continent and claim it for Spain. San Francisco was just the start.

  His officers knew that the man was unstable, but he commanded the loyalty of the troops because he permitted them to loot and pillage during raids. Fernandez wasn’t the original commander of the UN forces sent to Mexico to assist in the disaster relief effort, and participate in the American missile defense effort. That man had died the night of the quakes, as had many of the other top ranking officers. But a good commander had risen to the challenge. He’d organized the survivors of the UN forces and set them to work helping the citizens of Mexico, while they awaited word from their home nations.

  Fernandez, who knew that he would have him arrested the moment he attempted to take over the command, had murdered that commander in his sleep. With the assistance of a core of fifteen men loyal to him, Lieutenant Geraldo Raul Fernandez had then gone to war on the troops he knew would oppose him. He’d carefully noted the men who would be the most problematic. Seventeen of those men were murdered in their sleep similarly to the commander. Another sixteen were caught trying to flee the area and shot down in cold blood. Two hundred men rallied to fight the rogue element, which soon grew as other men, disenchanted with their plight in post disaster Mexico, moved to join the man who claimed he’d lead them to a better life. The two hundred loyal UN men were slaughtered. A small handful managed to slip away as the fighting died down. They disappeared into the countryside.

  Now the commander studied the map in consternation. His missiles were close enough to hit Los Angeles, but it would be better if they were closer. He stared at the small circle he’d made with the red felt tipped marker, and wondered if the transports had the fuel to move another one hundred miles north. He sent out a radio message asking the crew if they could do so, but was informed that the transports were nearly out of fuel. They would need to be resupplied before they could move. The commander didn’t give up easily. He told the men to try to siphon all of the fuel from all of their transports and place it in the one that was transporting the nuclear missile.

  One of the men with the missiles radioed back for clarification on the orders. He reminded the commander that if they drained the fuel, then they would be committed to their current positions.

  Fernandez responded that he would arrange for a fuel shipment to be delivered, but that he wanted the nuclear missile moved north, therefore, his order stood. He further ordered that the missiles were to be launched at Los Angeles the moment it became apparent that the peacekeepers had located them. He received confirmation that his orders would be carried out, and then he turned his attention to other matters.

  For the next twenty minutes, Fernandez sent coded messages to the leaders of the militant factions of La Raza, informing them that within a matter of days, San Francisco would be under his control. He advised them to begin the preparations for their role in the retaking of lands that rightfully belonged to the people.

  Ah Hoya was right about Fernandez. He was no fool. He would use the dreams of the militant factions to achieve his goals. And if those militant leaders became a problem, he knew exactly how deal with them.

  Fernandez thought of his family for a moment. He wondered if any of them still lived. His father was an influential politician. One of his brothers was a powerful banker. Another was a well-respected military officer of high rank. His sister was a doctor and his mother was a skilled lawyer.

  Thinking of his family reminded Fernandez of his past. Compared to the rest of the family, Geraldo, a lowly painter by trade, was an underachiever, and his ex-wife and mother-in-law never let him forget it. His parents goaded him to try to make more of himself, often in the presence of his wife, who in turn told her mother. These two women used this at every opportunity to illustrate his shortcomings, until he eventually divorced his wife and joined the military. When it became apparent that the ex-wife and mother-in-law would continue to nag him, even though he'd gotten a divorce and joined the military, Fernandez requested assignment to the United Nations effort to help the people of Mexico.

  Once he'd gotten inside Mexico, Fernandez met several La Raza militants who tried to recruit him to their cause. They fed him a steady stream of propaganda in their efforts to gain him to their side. Bit by bit, Geraldo Fernandez began to conceive a plan. He didn't want to join their group. He wanted to command it and others like it. He was still plotting to take control of these groups on the night of the quakes. In the aftermath of that horror, he seized the initiative and took command of the UN forces.

  It took years t
o organize the disparate militant groups of La Raza to the point that he felt he could trust them to recruit sufficient forces for their part in retaking the lands that had once belonged to the people. During those years, Fernandez had lived well as the commander of the former UN troops. He had committed atrocities without number in order to maintain the loyalty of his troops. Now, he stood on the verge of seeing all of his dreams come true. He would retake the lands that once belonged to Spain, and as a result, he would go down in history as the most famous Fernandez who ever lived.

  Fernandez sighed in contentment. All had been done that could be done for the moment. If he succeeded in becoming the most famous Spaniard who ever lived, that would silence the people who thought him the most unsuccessful Fernandez. His ex-wife and mother-in-law were among those people, but there had been others.

  ***

  Aboard the Peacekeeper, Patricia smiled happily. She’d managed to intercept the messages being sent to and from the base. She had immediately set the computerized communications system to pinpoint the location of the missile command. She had now narrowed down the search perimeters to a ten-mile radius. Had the conversation lasted another few seconds, she could have pinpointed the exact location of the missile command, but unfortunately, the conversation had terminated before she could discern that information.

  “Captain,” she said, addressing Tim formally, as she always did in the control room. “I have some information that may interest you,” she said with a coy smile.

  “Alright, Lieutenant, what do you have for me?” asked Tim.

  “I’ve managed to narrow the search perimeters for the missiles to a ten mile radius, thanks to their communications with their base.”

  “Transmit that information to Namid on a secure channel, then send it to Jim aboard the Valiant, and Pete in the citadel,” Tim ordered. “Good work, Patricia. That information will make this a lot easier,” he said.

  “I’m afraid it’s not all good news. The nuke is being moved one hundred miles north,” Patricia explained.

  “Then send the message to Namid. Get her heading toward the current missile site. Then pull up a map of the area. See if you can determine the most likely route, they’d take to move the missile. Transmit that information to Namid as well. Once that is completed, inform the council on all of the developments.”

  “Will do, Captain,” Patricia responded.

  Ten minutes later, all of the information had been transmitted to the proper individuals.

  ***

  Namid brought her squadron onto the new heading that would take them to the missile command area. Behind her, the ten fighters assigned to the squadron maintained their relative positions with practiced ease. The ten pilots chosen were among the top ten percent of their various graduating classes. All were experienced pilots, who’d survived multiple battles. The council was sending some of the best peacekeeper pilots to deal with the missile threat. All had been chosen based on their ability to hit small targets with the weapons systems of their fighters.

  “Phoenix, I put our ETA to the coordinates at forty-five minutes,” Jeff stated. At the last moment, Jeff had replaced one of the other pilots on the mission.

  “Roger that, Cowboy. My figures were the same,” she responded.

  “I’m sorry, Phoenix,” Jeff said quietly over the radio.

  “Sorry for what?” Namid asked.

  “I’m sorry I treated you wrong. You deserved better. I’m glad you’re in a better relationship now,” he explained.

  “It’s alright, Cowboy. Some guys just aren’t meant to be corralled,” Namid said.

  “Hell, I’ll let you brand me if you’ll go out with me!” one of the other pilots chimed in, much to the amusement of the others.

  “Sorry guys, my dance card’s full,” Namid responded with a laugh.

  Turning serious, Jeff said, “It’s time you told us how you want to handle this mission, Phoenix. Do you want to go in all at once, or would you rather we go in pairs to make the target run?”

  “Pairs, at thirty second intervals. Your thoughts?” Namid responded.

  “That sounds fine to me. You know if the nuke detonates, our fighters are toast, don’t you?”

  “Yep, even if we aren’t destroyed by the blast, the EMP will kill our circuits, and we’d fall out of the sky like a rock,” Namid answered.

  “It probably won’t hurt at all. We’ll be so close that if it blows we won’t even know what hit us,” another pilot remarked.

  “Remember the briefing, guys,” Namid said. She didn’t like this turn of the conversation. It could lead the pilots into nervousness that could affect their aim. “It’s just about impossible to override the safeguards built into those missiles. It would have to go through g-forces before the nuke is armed. It’s not going to go up in our faces at the missile launch site.”

  “Phoenix is right, guys. I’m sorry I mentioned the matter. Let’s can this topic and talk about something more pleasant,” Jeff instructed.

  “Hey, I hear Pol’s next project is going to be a real honest to God flying saucer. Is that true Phoenix? I know you and Pol are friends, so you’d know if that rumor is true,” a pilot from Georgia asked.

  “Well, actually the answer to that question is yes and no,” Namid said and laughed when the pilot cursed in frustration. When she stopped laughing at the man’s reaction, she said, “You know how the drones all took a pounding in the Gulf war?”

  “Yeah, we had one hundred percent losses on the drones. I remember that,” the Georgian pilot responded.

  “Well, Pol never got over that. He has invested a great deal of his spare time working on a design that would better survive such a hostile environment. He thinks that he had come up with the solution. It involves drones that look like flying saucers. He’s concocted an additive he can place between the battery casing and the outer hull. If one of the drones takes a hit in that critical area, the additive will cause the hole to seal in seconds. The new drones will have a very narrow profile of only a foot thick at the thickest. They taper down to a couple of inches on the outer edges,” Namid explained.

  “I’d think that would make them easier to hit, and not harder,” One of the other pilots observed. “Sounds like a skeet to me.”

  “You wouldn’t think so if you’d seen the prototype maneuver. They can execute a ninety-degree turn at top speed, although there is some slippage. Pol is trying to eliminate that, but even if he can’t, the machine is incredible.”

  “So what’s the holdup? When can we expect to see these new drones in service?” asked Jeff.

  “Miniaturization,” Namid responded. “Due to the small profile, the onboard electronics packages and weapons systems will have to be miniaturized. That is being worked out with some northern suppliers that Bob, from Reager Industries told Pol to contact. The best estimates are two years before the concept can be brought online. But by then, the battle fortress will be ready too, so it should work out well.”

  “Battle fortress?” asked one of the pilots.

  “Yep,” Namid responded. “That will be a massive manned battle platform that is a floating fort. The drones will be an integral part of the defensive system. They’ll attach to the outer hull along the bottom and sides. The tapered design will permit them to overlap each other, forming layers of additional protection needed in specific areas to address defensive needs. The fortress will also be armed to the teeth with laser weaponry. The concept calls for a crew of hundreds.”

  “Hundreds? Just how big is that fortress going to be, Phoenix?” asked one of the pilots.

  “I’m not sure. Pol keeps changing things. The last design I saw was larger than an aircraft carrier. I think it was about five hundred by one thousand feet. The construction isn’t going to begin until next year. It will take that long to save up the alloy needed to form the base of the superstructure. Remember we still have to manufacture fighters and other aircraft as well. Some pilot I know keeps losing his birds,” Namid said, causin
g several of the pilots to laugh.

  “Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Jeff said in mock indignation.

  “That’s what you always say, Cowboy,” Namid responded.

  “Phoenix, did I hear you right? Did you say five hundred by one thousand feet?” asked a pilot.

  “Yes, that’s what I said. But Pol keeps adding things, so that will probably change. It’s already up to twenty engines for lift and thrust,” Namid explained.

  “It’ll never get off the ground,” the pilot stated with assurance.

  “You don’t know Pol. If he says something will fly, I’d never bet against him. The man’s brilliant when it comes to ship building,” Namid said with calm assurance.

  “We’re thirty minutes out now, and by my calculations, the Peacekeeper and the Constitution will be arriving at the base at any minute,” Jeff observed.

  ***

  The raid on the enemy base was a carefully coordinated effort by the captains of the Peacekeeper and the Constitution, and Lieutenant Wilcox inside the armored personnel carrier. For the trip back from New Mexico, the armored personnel carrier had attached itself to the top of the Constitution. This enabled them to be on hand when the battle began.

  Bill opened the diversion with a drone raid. The drone operators were seeking specific targets, which were any heavy machinegun emplacements and shoulder fired missiles. He released the drones minutes before he was even within sight of the enemy encampment.

  On the ground in the military camp, soldiers were going about their daily routine when the drones flew in to commence the attack. The first three drones inside the camp took out three heavy machinegun nests in the first minute of the engagement. Soon groups of soldiers had formed up and were firing up at the drones as they continued to attack hardened gun positions. One of the drones flew over to the command building and destroyed the radio antennae located atop the building in the hopes of preventing a launch order from being issued.