The Chief Justice steps forward. Larom’s husband and young daughter walk over from the side of the stage to hold the Bible upon which she recites the Presidential oath of office:
“I, Victoria Mary Larom, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
With that, Larom is officially the President of the United States, no longer the acting President. She gives her husband and daughter a kiss, and then they walk off with the Chief Justice. Larom will now be giving her first official remarks as President, aware that China and Russia could be colliding in a nuclear war at any moment. Pausing for a moment, she steps back up to the lectern.
“It is my profound honor and privilege to serve you the American people as President of these United States. Let me make clear to you that my Administration has but one agenda: to ensure that I am not the last President of the United States. To the rest of the world and to our alien adversaries, let me also be clear, and say what should have been said long ago already: the United States seeks peace and friendship with all, but as a cost of this peace, we will never sacrifice our founding principles. We will never surrender our constitution nor relinquish our self-government to someone else. I hope the entire world, including the people of China, will join us in this effort.
“Those are the guiding principles of my Administration. To ensure the successful achievement of this agenda, we have begun to take action. I have removed from office Attorney General Braddock and all other individuals named by Mister Wilson, as we were able to independently corroborate his conclusions. This action will ensure that every member of this Administration is on the same team: your team. Now is not a time for partisanship, so to fill the Vice President vacancy, I have asked the leaders of the other party, the Senate and House Minority Leaders, to give me four candidates from their party, and I will choose one to join this Administration as VP.
“Additionally, we must determine the next course of action. Given the deception that has plagued our government and key institutions, I will be brutally honest with you today and in the future. I do not know if this force field is a permanent solution or if there will be war. I know nothing more about this technology or Anton Frozos than you do. Robert Wilson is the only individual who can speak to his technology. I have invited him to the White House tomorrow to discuss it and what his proposals are. Congress will be back in session tomorrow, and if appropriate, we can address these questions then.
“Our answer will have to be more than a whole of government approach. Yes, we need every branch of our federal government working together, but we need a whole-of-America approach that capitalizes upon the capabilities of our government, our entire private sector, our armed services, and our strongest asset: you, the citizenry. We will deliver this and lead this nation and world to a brighter future. Of that, I am certain. God bless you, your families, and God bless the United States of America.”
Contrary to tradition, the media in the room give President Larom a standing ovation as she exits the briefing room and heads to the Situation Room to confer with her military advisors as to the goings on in China and Russia.
While Larom is speaking to the American people, Air Force base taxiways in Western China are filling up with its fighter jets prepared to take off. They are just minutes from launching phase one of the incursion into Russian territory when a sonic boom is heard. Suddenly, about 1,000 feet high in the air, dozens of planes appear just west of the base between the runway and the Russian border. They are hovering in midair, unlike any fighter jet known to man. The planes appear to have a thirty-five to forty-foot wingspan and are entirely black apart from a gold stripe down across the end of each wing. In their control tower, there is panic as planes appear on the radar screen. Officials are scrambling to understand how these planes entered Chinese airspace undetected and how anti-aircraft missiles were not tripped.
On the runway, panic ensues as mechanics and support staff run for cover. Pilots are paralyzed, sitting on the tarmac like sitting ducks but afraid to takeoff directly at the rows of planes where they would be equally easy targets. On their radios, they ask why air traffic control didn’t warn them of incoming planes so they could get up in the air more quickly.
Then, they hear a booming voice, apparently coming from speakers on the planes, that in Chinese says, “Our advanced engine and cloaking technology enabled us to pass through your airspace undetected. Our weaponry is equally advanced. Evacuate these fields and withdraw all troops to one hundred miles away from the border, and we will not attack. Attempt to attack, and we will respond.”
This statement is repeated again and again. After being repeated five times, it pauses for thirty seconds before restarting the pattern. The entire time, the planes just hover in midair. By now, radar has counted two hundred—twenty rows, ten deep—covering half a mile by a quarter mile. The base commander gets off the phone.
“Beijing says the strike is to start; there are to be no more delays. They are sitting motionless in the sky—fire the anti-aircraft placed across the front at them!”
There is hectic activity across the base as soldiers assume their battle stations, and begin the assault. Missiles from over twenty-five sites fly to the heavens to shoot down the unknown Air Force in the sky. Long guns are mounted to shoot at targets. There are booms of explosions as the shelling commences. The sky lights up in fire and the sunlight is soon overwhelmed in smoke.
The command center cheers as the radar shows no planes in the air, with fist bumps, high-fives and thumbs-ups all around. Then, after about twenty seconds with the smoke still clearing, bogeys appear again on the radar. Descending from the south down to an altitude of no more than 200 feet, a contingent of seven planes flying in a V-formation zoom across at a deafening speed with the radar trackers unable to keep pace. Their mounted cannons methodically destroy the anti-aircraft artillery. Soldiers attempt to fire from the ground but to no avail with the wind the planes leave in their wake throwing the men to the ground. Then another contingent of seven planes descends from the north, repeating the maneuver.
The Chinese frontline is now engulfed in smoke. Reports from the ground to the command center point to a near annihilation of their anti-aircraft capabilities in a strike that barely lasted two minutes. Fortunately, initial casualties appear minimal. Sirens echo across the base as fire crews attempt to put out the flames. China’s armada of fighter jets remains untouched on the tarmacs with crew growing increasingly restless. With their counter-offensive completed, the sky again fills up with the same 200 planes. The Chinese military was unable to claim a single jet. The base is again subjected to a booming voice saying on repeat, “Evacuate these fields and withdraw all troops to one hundred miles away from the border, and we will not attack. Attempt to attack again, and we will respond with harsher force.”
“Call Beijing again,” the commander orders.
At the central headquarters of China’s Government, President Li is irate. Reports from the field confound him, and his military advance is stymied before it has even begun. His mood is about to get worse. Two security aides rush in, and one says, “We need to go underground, sir.”
“Why?” a frustrated Li asks.
The aide points out the window. Li walks over to see several dozen planes hovering over the city. He is grabbed back from the window, and they rush downstairs to an underground bunker. Li walks into a plain room, with a long table that he sits at the head of. On the far end, there are screens showing the Beijing skyline as well as pictures from the besieged base on China’s western front. The table is filled with aides and military officials, frantically making calls trying to understand how fifty jets had entered Beijing’s airspace without triggering any early-warning alarms. Their systems cannot decipher what types of planes they are or where they had come from. It is obvious
that the fleet in Beijing and the front are in the same force given identical designs and hovering patterns.
Back in Washington D.C., President Larom is in the Situation Room with her top officials from the Pentagon, offering strategies as to how to best proceed. Satellites in the Far East have picked up unusual readings, but it’s unclear what those readings suggest. Chinese forces near the Russian border remain at a standstill, despite expectations that a strike would be underway by now. There is also no evidence that the Russian military is preparing any aggressive actions. As a consequence, she continues to resist suggestions from the Pentagon to enhance America’s military alertness.
The status quo is actually tolerable. No borders have been crossed, after all. But this equilibrium appears extremely fragile. Larom thinks to herself that she must balance two competing interests; first, ensuring America can defend herself if things go haywire, but second, not taking any action that could be viewed by the Chinese as a provocation.
In an effort to find this balance, she orders, “General, we will not be mobilizing or increasing the level of alert for any of our nuclear capabilities. However, you can mobilize all of our defense shield mechanisms and escalate the readiness of conventional forces in the Middle East and Asia Pacific.”
“Yes, Madam President,” the general replies.
No one in the room seems particularly pleased nor distressed by this course of action, encouraging Larom that she has found a steady course. No sooner has she ordered this than a security advisor alerts her that Russian President Mikhail Malvodov is seeking a video call. She signals to put him on the screen. He is speaking from his office in Moscow, and the camera in the Situation Room is positioned so that he can only see her, not her array of advisors. Undoubtedly, there was also an unseen group of advisors with Malvodov.
“President Larom, congratulations on taking office. You are facing a trial by fire, no doubt?” Malvodov begins. He looks unwaveringly calm, particularly considering his nation is on the edge of war. Years of service during the Cold War have numbed him to the threat of nuclear annihilation, or perhaps he just has a very adept poker face.
“Thank you, President Malvodov. Indeed, I have, though we don’t seek these jobs because we like to make small decisions, now do we?” she coolly replies.
“No we do not. This is why I must ask whether your Mister Wilson is working at your behest. Or have you outsourced decisions to him?” Malvodov likely already knows the answer to this question, making it all the more cutting.
“Well, I suppose I could ask whether you have outsourced your war fighting to him?” Larom sharply responds. The hawks surrounding Larom in the Situation Room who questioned whether she was strong enough to lead at this moment show a clear appreciation for this answer. In her first minutes on the job, and she is holding serve against a seasoned foreign policy operator.
“Point taken, Miss Larom. It seems we should take for granted that our interests are aligned with Mister Wilson, but that he is a wild card.”
“I think that’s fair.”
“You no doubt have images as do I of his jets leaving his Moscow tower. What my intelligence agencies are sharing with yours now are photos from our border with China that show these jets pinning China’s Air Force to the ground. Despite the unease of some advisors, I’ve decided that so long as those jets are there in the sky, we will not take a solitary military action. If they do move or get destroyed, that commitment may not stand. Do I make myself understood?”
“Understood. I believe that you are taking a wise approach,” President Larom replies. As she says this, an aide passes her a paper. The same occurs to Malvodov. Her paper reads in handwritten capital letters “MORE PLANES OVER BEIJING.” She pauses, thinks to herself not to show any emotion. Looking back up, she can see on the TV to the left of the one showing Malvodov a live feed of Beijing with several dozen planes just hovering over the Central Headquarters.
“Well, Mister President, I suspect your aide handed you a similar paper as mine, about Beijing.”
“Indeed. Your Mister Wilson is a bold man. He may be from outer space, but he’s very American. I trust you to handle him. In the meantime, you understand my position, yes?”
“I do. Godspeed.”
With that, they disconnect. There is now frantic energy in the room as they try to figure out what is going on in Beijing.
Larom turns to an aide. “Get me Wilson on the phone.”
Chapter 11
Jersey City
April 5, 2029
Robert Wilson is in the command center in the basement of his Jersey City headquarters. Jake Thornhill who runs the center is calmly managing the operations, ensuring a steady flow of communication between the Jersey City Center, the Moscow Center, the aerial contingent in West China, and the one over Beijing. His years of experience have left him well prepared to keep everyone calm and following procedure. They’ve been training in simulations and war games to build processes and muscle memories for scenarios like this, but no drill can mimic the adrenaline rush, the high stakes, and uncertainty of an actual crisis.
Mark Morrison and Chris Bailey, neither of whom engaged in such training, are sitting off to the side in varying states of shock. Robert is trying to remain calm for their sakes, and he knows both men admire the professionalism Thornhill displays. He knows Mark is worried about the nature of high-powered politics they are entering, but he’s easily able to mask his concerns, especially around strangers. Chris, on the other hand, is sweating profusely, pacing back and forth with nervous energy, and more than a few times Mark has whispered to him that he needs to sit down and get his act together.
Robert stands at the floor of the auditorium, gazing up and across the screens with his hands on his hips. Images on the main screen are from West China and Beijing. He portrays calm because he feels calm. The day is far from over, but thus far, he feels his confidence in Project Ridley is being validated. They have barely scratched the surface of the capabilities these fighter jets possess, and yet they have easily laid waste to global radar tracking and the Chinese military’s capabilities. Despite some internal skepticism, his young pilot crew is performing quite well under pressure.
The goal of the West China mission has been completely accomplished thus far. Robert is proving out these weapons, and they can keep the military pinned down indefinitely. This is where the Beijing contingent must step up and push the government to de-escalate—a far trickier task. Robert is keen to not be the provocateur; his focus is on ensuring the integrity of international borders and preparing for the fight against Frozos, not internal politics. He is thinking to himself what should be broadcast from the speakers of the Beijing planes.
At that moment his cell phone rings, and he pulls it out of his right pocket, annoyed. Who could be calling now? It’s an unlisted number. He knows that could only be one person.
“Hello.”
“Please hold for the President of the United States.”
Robert walks out the side door into his office, alone. This is not a conversation that he should be having in front of the rank and file who are implementing his strategy.
“Hello, Robert, it’s Victoria. How are you?”
“Madam President. I’m glad you’re the one I’m speaking to in this situation.”
“Thank you, but flattery will only get you so far. And we’ve gotten to that point. Both President Malvodov and myself are genuinely appreciative of your actions to keep escalations from rising on the border.”
“Glad to do it.” Robert leans back in his chair in front of his monitors to keep an eye on his jets. The cables that had connected his spaceship to his monitors now lie on the ground, disconnected.
Meanwhile Larom is using the speaker phone of the Situation Room, while also monitoring the skies above Beijing. The room remains filled with her advisors as well as voice specialists and CIA psychologists to analyze what Ro
bert says and how he says it. Of course, whether voice inflections from an alien mean the same as from a human is a scientific unknown.
“The point I’m getting at, Robert, is that we’ve given you a lot of flexibility, but we need to know why there are fifty planes in Beijing.”
“Madam President, do you have an idea of how to get Li to move his troops away from Russia’s border? I have no plan on waging war on China, so I am blocking his troops from advancing. But I don’t want to keep my boys there forever—”
“Your boys?” the President interjects.
“Well, someone needs to fly the plane. Don’t worry—when I visit the White House to discuss my plan to take on Frozos as you suggested this morning, I’ll give you all the details. So where was I? Li, yes, that’s right. So you tell me how to get Li to draw his troops back. I’m trying to scare him, and more importantly the rest of his government. And maybe embolden his public that his government isn’t all powerful after all.”
“Okay. We will try to mediate a solution with Li. But to be clear, I don’t want those planes firing on Beijing. The United States Government will not condone that, and we will disavow you and everything else you want to do, force field or not. Do I make myself understood?”
“Completely. It’s nice talking to someone with a backbone for a change. I will speak to you soon, Madam President.”
“Thank you, Mister Wilson.” President Larom hangs up the phone, and she looks across the table at her advisors. “You know, that man may be a genius but boy does he scare me. And he ought to scare you too, because he has the power to do most anything, and he’s willing to use it. But you know what, I bet he’s scaring all the right people too. And right now, maybe that’s what we need.”
Back at Arbor Ridge headquarters, Robert, feels satisfied with the call and is hopeful that Larom will prove to be a worthy President in such trying times. He springs out of his chair and walks back into the command center.
Robert Wilson and the Invasion from Within Page 10