Ancients: An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  The skies were dark as the great ship plowed through the rough seas. Her smaller escorts were having a far harder time with the swells than the giant carrier was, but they were still keeping pace with the rapid pace of the Teddy.

  As the captain sat in the large chair inside the command bridge, a signal-man approached and gave him a contact report. He glanced at it and then looked at the sailor.

  “Intermittent?”

  “Yes, sir. The contact is low, possibly hidden by the rough seas.”

  The captain thought about bringing the ship to General Quarters but instead picked up the phone and contacted the ships CIC.

  “Yes, Captain, this is Commander Houghington. Our contact could be just a glitch because I don’t suspect anyone would brave the seas at that low altitude.”

  “Conclusions?” he asked.

  “Any action at this time is not supported by what we have, Captain. The Champlain is monitoring the contact and will advise on any aspect changes.”

  “Very well. Inform everyone this could turn serious real quick.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The captain hung up the phone and bit his lower lip in thought. It was a bad habit and that knowledge had spread to his crew rather quickly. When he was like that, he was deep in thought.

  “To hell with it. Officer of the Deck, bring the task force to General Quarters.”

  In the rough seas, the twelve ships of the large force came to life and men started running about, getting to their action stations. Word quickly spread that the group might be under surveillance at the least, or tracked by someone meaning them harm; at sea, both scenarios got the men’s attention.

  USS LAKE CHAMPLAIN (CG-57)

  TICONDEROGA-CLASS AEGIS MISSILE CRUISER

  The heavy cruiser had joined the task force as a last-minute substitution and had arrived from her home port of San Diego just in time to meet up with the Roosevelt before they came in striking distance of Sakhalin.

  In the combat direction center of the Aegis missile cruiser, the ratings were quietly watching their monitors. The deck officer was watching closely both the BQQ sonar and air-search radars. His eyes went from the subsurface search to the air search but were drawn more frequently to the air aspect.

  “There it is again, sir,” the air-search tech called out.

  As the lieutenant commander leaned closer to the screen, the large blip disappeared.

  “Dammit! If that’s an aircraft, he’s braver than me. Those seas are at sixteen feet.”

  “Last contact showed two hundred and thirty klicks and closing. sir, this could be just ground swell and clutter.”

  “Well, the Teddy isn’t taking any chances. They just launched her Alert One fighters to join the CAP.”

  As the officer moved to the subsurface-search screen, the green blip appeared and vanished once more.

  GREAT DEFENDER FLIGHT, ECHO-TANGO-BRAVO

  ONE HUNDRED KILOMETERS NORTHEAST OF THE

  USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT

  The flight of six S-37 fighters of the North Korean air force skimmed the sea at wave-top level. If it had not been for the large amount of sea spray streaming from their fuselages, the newest line of stealth-technology fighters would have struck undetected. Still, that intermittent signal was enough to confuse the Americans.

  Each of the six new fighters was armed with a single weapon: the SSN-22 cruise missile. Western intelligence had recently dubbed the new Russian-designed weapon “the deadliest missile in the world.” Code-named the Sunburn, it was capable of supersonic speeds and packed a punch that could singlehandedly sink an American Nimitz-class carrier. At this moment there were six Sunburns targeting the Roosevelt.

  USS LAKE CHAMPLAIN (CG-57)

  TICONDEROGA-CLASS AEGIS MISSILE CRUISER

  “We have multiple incoming targets, one hundred and eighty klicks and closing. Speed is estimated at Mach 1.2!”

  The Roosevelt and Lake Champlain radars were picking up only four of the inbound targets because, after launch, one of the costly cruise missiles simply fell off its launch rail and hung from one of its explosive bolts. As it caught the air, it dragged the plane down and it splashed into the sea, cartwheeling the expensive fighter into the angry ocean.

  Another of the Sunburns ignited, but then the warhead inexplicably detonated. Unknown to the manufacturer, a watertight seal that had been improperly installed at the Russian factory had corrupted the arming timer with seawater on the flight in. The resulting explosion took out not only the launching S-37 but its wingman. Both fighters disintegrated in an expanding wave of destruction that lit up the darkened sky.

  USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT

  The giant ship maneuvered to starboard at flank speed as the approaching missiles gained on it. Three of the Sunburns targeted the great carrier and one, the Lake Champlain.

  As RAM (rolling action) missiles filled the gray sky around the task force from every warship in the group, the Lake Champlain’s old Phalanx system started to track the incoming threat. The R2-D2 platform, named after the Star Wars character, rotated with the high whine of its turbine, and the six-barreled Gatling gun started turning in anticipation of placing its lethal rounds into the air.

  The Roosevelt’s captain saw what was going to happen.

  “Helm, hard to port!” he ordered loudly.

  The carrier started to turn, but it was too late. The first 770-pound war-head slammed into the vessel below the high-water mark amidships, killing four hundred sailors in the initial detonation. Fire quickly spread throughout the cavernous hangar deck. The giant warship shuddered and was actually lifted free of the sea as her keel bent and then straightened in a springlike action that came very near to breaking her back. As she settled back into the water, her crew waited for the second strike, which would surely finish her.

  The Lake Champlain saved her. By splitting the two old Phalanx turrets between the second and third missiles, the Champlain’s captain was hoping beyond hope to save the Roosevelt from the deathblow headed her way.

  Another missile, aimed directly at the Champlain, was being tracked by their old but reliable Raytheon RIM-161 standard missiles. She started pumping the SAMs into the air as fast as her automatic loader could deploy them. Simultaneously, chaff and flares launched from their tubes and started to explode in an attempt to confuse the incoming Sunburn.

  The first missile was just crossing the point of no return for the forward Phalanx. The depleted uranium rounds played out like water from a garden hose as it tracked. The cruise missile popped up in the last seconds of flight due to its programmed orders to target the Teddy’s flight deck. At the last possible moment, five of the more than eight thousand uranium rounds in the air struck the large missile dead center and exploded it seventy feet from the carrier’s large island structure. Fire and shrapnel from the momentum of the Sunburn spread destruction to the bridge area of the carrier just as she righted herself from the first strike.

  The second missile was close behind, and just as the Roosevelt settled and her bronze propellers bit the sea, fighting for speed, the missile struck her at the stern. There was no detonation. The Roosevelt was hit with a dud missile. Thanks to the Champlain, thousands of men were saved.

  The Lake Champlain wasn’t so lucky. She attempted to turn to port just as the fourth Korean missile struck. The resulting explosion ripped through her midsection and blew out the other side. The worst effect was the downward trajectory of the expanding wave of destruction as it found a hole in the ship’s design, the tunnel that fed missiles to the automated loader. The American missiles exploded in the main loading area of the cruiser and the rest of the energy traveled down into the bowels of the proud warship. The kinetic energy slammed into her lowest deck, disintegrating reinforced steel plates until it finally found the keel. The thick spine of steel simply snapped in half like a frail twig. The onrush of water weighted the forward half of the Lake Champlain and pulled it under, leaving the stern to catch up.

  Two mil
es away, the USS Theodore Roosevelt was dead in the water with her fires belowdecks out of control. Other ships started making their way in to help as the shock of the Korean attack was quickly replaced by anger at what amounted to a sneak attack on the force.

  The world situation was slowly worsening, per the plan. Meanwhile, across the ocean and half a world away, the Coalition was preparing to assault another, but very much older, ship still on the U.S. Navy active rolls: the USS Arizona.

  6

  FRIEHAUFF HOTEL

  BERLIN, GERMANY

  The first female elected chancellor of the German state stood and walked to the podium. The dinner was a benefit for the German Red Cross and was a timely affair since the agency’s resources had been stretched thin by the recent natural disasters in Asia and the Middle East. The chancellor was radiant in her black gown and she smiled brightly for the five hundred paying guests of the Red Cross. Her security detail scanned the forty round tables in the ballroom located in the newest of Berlin’s luxury hotels.

  The audience stood to applaud the woman who had so recently taken the country by storm, by word and vote. She had been elected on the peace vote just as her American counterpart had been, thus allying herself with American foreign policy.

  She waved at the gathered guests and raised her arms in a triumphant gesture, which pleased the very rich in the ballroom to no end. Her black-gloved hand was richly appointed with a bracelet of diamonds, a gift from her husband on election day.

  One man in the rear of the room just stood watching. The new chief of security for the hotel, a well-regarded man in his midfifties, watched as the left-wing bitch, as he thought of her, took in her glory. He sneered as he raised a cell phone to his ear and made a call. He nodded at one of the chancellor’s security men who was covering the door; the man smiled and nodded back, never suspecting a thing.

  “Yes,” the voice answered.

  “The chancellor is being well received,” the security man said in perfect English.

  “Very nice. Would you please send her our regards.”

  “I most certainly will—and my family, they will be honored by this?”

  “They will want for nothing for generations.”

  The security officer closed the cell phone and placed it back in his suit jacket. He again smiled at the agent next to him and then moved off toward the stage, easily bypassing the standing guests and zigzagging around the tables. The mission he had volunteered for had been in the planning stages for ten years and he was well prepared. As a former German soldier and then later an intelligence officer, he was beyond reproach as far as his security clearance was concerned; thus, his advantageous position had been attained with no problem at all.

  As he moved through the throng of people, he unbuttoned his coat, and that motion drew the attention of the chancellor’s security detail on the stage. One officer saw the well-dressed man and knew him by name, and he knew that his hotel position required him not to be where he was.

  The chancellor had finally persuaded the guests to settle in for one of her fiery speeches on the economy, the European Union, and the war on terror, when she saw the man approaching the stage. She watched as he stopped, and then a shot rang out from the left wing of the stage. The bullet caught the security man in the shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from carrying out his mission for the honor of his Coalition-sponsored family.

  The explosion from the eight pounds of C-4 plastic explosive disintegrated the first seven feet of stage, along with the new German chancellor. The security man along with ten tables in the front of the room vanished. The ceiling came crashing down into the guest tables in the center, killing a 110 more people.

  The bomb squad would sift through the debris of the ballroom for the next week, and the only thing they would recover of the new chancellor was one gloved hand with a diamond bracelet still clinging to the silk.

  With the major chess pieces in conflict across the board, and the occupied just surviving, the assassination had taken out the white queen, without any of the players really being aware of how their side of the board had been compromised. The chessboard was now in check because a large part of the western defense apparatus had now been removed from the board, and all it had cost the Coalition was one little black pawn.

  LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

  The Boeing 777 was starting its takeoff roll. The livery colors were white on red and on the tail boom was the national flag of Japan. Prime Minister Minoro Osagawa was rushing home just after hearing the news from the Pacific. It had been a hectic day since the earthquake had taken a devastating toll on the northern tip of his nation. The prime minister had been trying to take off for four hours, but the Los Angeles area had been blanketed in fog for the better part of the day. Finally, his pilot had received clearance and was heading down the runway at 140 miles per hour.

  The white, blue, and red Federal Express van had been parked in the long-term parking area of British Airways for the past five hours. The men inside had been patient and even joked about the L.A. weather, but they became serious as they received word that the prime minister’s plane had been cleared for takeoff. Three men stepped from the large van, each carrying a large case. They heard the loud whine of a large aircraft as her engines spooled up. They were exactly 1.8 miles from runway five. A Coalition source had informed the fire team of the prime minister’s imminent takeoff.

  As the three men placed the cases on the ground and opened them, they could almost feel the power of the items inside. Each of the three cases held a weapon that once upon a time had terrified the bravest of Russian combat pilots. Because the Stinger missile employs a passive homing seeker, it is a “fire and forget” weapon, which needs no guidance from the operator after firing. Other missiles—ones that track the reflection of a designator beam—require the operator to maintain a lock on the target. This allows a Stinger operator to take cover, relocate, or engage other targets immediately after firing the missile. This is just what the men trained for in the months and years leading up to this day.

  A fourth man had placed himself strategically in front of the van and was watching the sky through a pair of binoculars. He turned and looked at his three companions.

  “Get a move on; here she comes.”

  The men had already placed the Stingers on their shoulders and were just waiting. An old woman walked by, pulling a suitcase on rollers. One of the men looked at her and winked. The woman didn’t even know what the men held; she just hurried along a little faster than before, and she didn’t look back.

  Soon they saw the large Boeing plane take to the sky, and soon after that, the seeker tone sounded in their ears, meaning that the seeker head had locked on to engine one of the 777. First one, then the second, and then finally the third missile streaked out of the launch tubes.

  The men lowered the empty tubes and watched in amazement as the small missiles climbed into the now-blue sky of Los Angeles. The white contrails were as clear as a stroke of paint as the missiles gained on their target. The scene was surreal and the men stood in awe.

  Whoever the pilot of the prime minister’s aircraft was, he was very, very good. The sensitive radar and threat detectors on the Boeing plane had to have alerted the pilot, and he swung the big plane over hard left and dived. In the tail boom, flares started to pop free of their launcher and chaff started bursting behind it. Tin foil would not fool the seeker heads of the Stingers, but the flares just might.

  The leader of the fire team bit his lower lip as he kept the binoculars trained on the weaving and diving aircraft. The first Stinger went for the flares and went off harmlessly a hundred feet from the tail. The second Stinger flew true to the target and struck the large General Electric engine. The third hit the left wing and ripped off a thirty-five-foot section at the end. The 777 dipped hard left and that was when the aircraft disappeared from view.

  “Goddammit!” the leader said as he scanned the sky with his glasses.

 
Then they heard the whine of the aircraft as it fought its way back into the sky. The whole left wing was on fire and the aircraft was without a large portion of that wing. The large turbojet engine was still there but was a ball of fire as the aircraft tried to turn back into LAX.

  The men watched in rapt silence as the plane, as if in slow motion, started to tilt over to the right, as the left wing could not hold up its end of the battle. The leader smiled as the 777 finally lost its battle with gravity and slid into a small strip mall and exploded. The leader closed his eyes as the ground trembled slightly from the distant impact.

  The men hastily left the area as sirens finally started sounding. They did not bother to pick up the cases that had contained the Stingers because the equipment was untraceable, having been bought as surplus from several sources inside Afghanistan, where the Coalition had unlimited contacts.

  With the deaths of two of the West’s most influential leaders, the Juliai was now only four moves away from checkmate.

  SITUATION ROOM

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  The lighting was dim and the room deathly quiet as the president sat with his security council. Somewhere in the silent room, a pencil snapped in two. On the large high-definition monitor, a scene unlike anything seen since World War II was being played out in real time in the northern Pacific. The images were delivered from an overhead satellite and from a live feed from one of the ships of the task force. The directors of the CIA, FBI, and NSA, General Kenneth Caulfield of the U.S. Army, and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs were silent. The suddenness of the attack by the Korean air force had taken the gamers at the Pentagon by complete surprise and left everyone with a deep sense of failure.