Gwinnett considered this for a second, then pushed back the sadness for his best friend, and said, "Status of attack, give me the summary."
"When the President's helicopter flared to land, one of his escort flight, as well as a second from the Marines, attacked his aircraft. The Presidential aircraft took multiple rockets and machine-gun fire. The two attacking choppers then flew a mile into the city core, dropped into the park around the Aquarium where they set auto-destructs and went into the subway. We have the pilots' identities, Sir, and have issued arrest warrants and APB's on all."
Behind the Colonel, Gwinnett watched as a Captain entered the room and interrupted the report by handing the officer a sheet of paper. The look on the Colonel's face telegraphed the message so there was no surprise, just a sinking, hurting, dead sensation in the pit of his stomach as he and the rest of the room heard the words. "Sir, Colonel Cantor, the lead surgeon for the Second Marine Group, has just pronounced President Barrett dead. Mr. President, we're at your command."
19/07/2047 06:00
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19/07/2047 07:00
Newly sworn-in President Gwinnett sat behind the big desk in the Oval Office and took a deep breath. He looked at the stack of file folders at his left hand, exhaled, and shook his head. This was one hell of a view he decided as the enormity of the problems he faced scrolled across his mind. He thought he was prepared to run a company before he started one, and he was right. QuellCorp had been the most successful of all the security startups, absorbing many competitors along the way. And he thought this political job would be just another step up the ladder of complexity and size; something he could handle. But facing the Chief of Staff, Jack Hagin, and the NSA Director Harry Atkinson standing across the desk he wasn't so sure. This job could take him, rip him into small bits and toss those bits into the nearest fan. It would do it easily if he wasn't careful.
First things first, he decided. "Jack, Harry, I see your resignations and I'm putting them in the drawer and not accepting them. I'm asking you both to stay on until we regain control of this situation. I never liked changing horses in mid-race if I could avoid doing so, and I'm not interested in starting now. Stay. Please. I need all the experienced help I can get."
Both men nodded and accepted the request with a nod and simple, "Yes Sir."
"Sit, please," said Gwinnett. Both men relaxed into the big leather chairs facing the desk.
"Let me summarize for you. My brief but immersive exposure to the range of problems the country faced has been daunting. Solutions to them aren't apparent and no single person or group seems willing to bend or compromise."
Hagin snorted, "A bit of an understatement," he said.
A grin worked at the corner of Atkinson's mouth but he remained silent.
"I'm guessing the goodwill from Bill's death will evaporate in the next week when the regular agendas and knives come out. So getting control of the issues right now is critical if there's a hope of staying ahead or even remaining current on any of them. Right?" Gwinnett asked. He made eye contact with each man.
The men across from him nodded.
Gwinnett sat silent for a few seconds, then looked over the top of his glasses at Hagin. "Excellent. Jack, please set up a workroom for brainstorming and problem identification. I want big chalkboards or large numbers of flip charts. Show me all the problems and options in one spot. Any problems with that?"
"No, Sir. But one question, Mr. President. Would you follow the schedule set down by your predecessor for the first few days to ease this transition, give your team a chance to get back working? We want to set the tone for the country that we're back in business and everything will be fine?"
"Seems reasonable. Easy for me to learn the ropes that way as well. Set it up," said Gwinnett.
"It's set up, Mr. President, you simply have to do what you're told."
Gwinnett grimaced. "Right. I'm not very good at that. I trust you two, but I'll want to make input very soon. We'll discuss my options tomorrow morning to get me up to speed."
Hagin nodded.
Gwinnett continued, "I want an evaluation of all senior people from both of you. Who should I trust? Who do I sideline? I have some of my own opinions, but I'd like your opinions as well. I didn't hire any of these folks so while I don't want to change them yet, I do want to delegate and set up workable plans that have a chance of being accomplished."
Atkinson cleared his throat. "Sir, the Joint Chiefs are very good at turning complex issues into manageable tasks. I know they used to be your competitors in a way, Sir, but you are their boss now and you should use them."
Gwinnett nodded his head in agreement but another part of his brain was calculating political effects. Was bringing in the army a great option after an assassination? What message did that send? And would this invite the Sworn Defenders to take a shot at him as well? I have absolutely no desire to be next on somebody's hit list, he thought.
A wry smile took over his entire face. Shit, I'm on those lists. Just being in this position makes me a target for every crazy with a gun, every person who had a wrong to right, and about half of the Armed Forces themselves. Fubar indeed, he thought.
He focused back on the two men sitting opposite him.
Hagin grinned and said, "Yeah, you just figured out you were the next target didn't you?"
Atkinson chuckled, "Welcome to the big chair, Sir."
Gwinnett shook his head. "You two are enjoying this far too much. I think I'll keep one of yo
u next to me at all times from now on. That'll focus your attention on keeping me out of harm's way."
"Damn, but I need another coffee" Hagin said, getting up and walking to the sideboard. "Anybody else?"
"Charlotte will kill me," said Gwinnett shaking his head.
"I'm fine," said Atkinson.
Gwinnett leaned back in his chair, made up his mind. "Pencil in several hours with the Cabinet and then the Joint Chiefs as soon as possible. I want to come out of those meetings with a full list of the issues and the interlocking relationships of those issues. I want current steps and forward planning outlined as they currently exist. If you need help setting this up, talk to the Joint Chiefs and they'll send a military planning specialist to help with the details of how we make this happen. After this session, I will work with you, Jack to set up my agenda."
Swiveling his chair slightly to face Atkinson, Gwinnett continued, "Harry, I want a three-page report with all the main problems you're dealing with. Point form. List the major problems and what we're doing about them. I won't read over three pages. We'll force folks to evaluate the worst problems this way and learning how to summarize will be good for their thinking. Three pages, and I'm serious."
Gwinnett paused, looked at each of the men in turn and said, "Anything else I have to know right now; any barns burning down I can't avoid? Or is it all good-to-know stuff and will wait for a few days until I'm up to speed?"
"Most of it will wait, Mr. President and thank you for your confidence in me. I will have the barns-that-are-burning-or-about-to-ignite report for you tomorrow morning," said Atkinson.
Standing and coming from behind his desk, Gwinnett shook hands with both of the men. He and Jack watched Harry leave the office. Gwinnett knew his steep uphill learning adventure was about to begin as he heard Jack say, "Now, Mr. President, todays' agenda and time line looks like this..."
22/06/2047
"Mr. President, please watch the rocket."
Gwinnett, along with Sarah, and what seemed like half of the white house staff and congressional leadership, peered out the narrow slits in the blockhouse walls. Two hundred yards from the launch pad, the roar was deafening as the ICBM-sized rocket launched. Ponderously, the missile rose off the launchpad as the thrusters beat back gravity. But the acceleration was smooth and once it got off the ground, incredibly fast. Much faster than he expected although he was glad to be wearing the noise suppression headset the Air Force provided.
He heard the project director's voice in his headset "Mr. President, the geosynchronous satellites have picked up the launch and analyzed the flare, size and speed of the missile. In another few seconds it will respond to the trajectory. It takes that long because the missile itself hasn't varied from its launch path and once its direction is clear, our systems will have the data within two seconds. That two seconds is because of lag time, Sir, the time it takes the satellite signal to bounce down to the rocket, back to the satellite and then to earth again and our computers."
Gwinnett decided, but kept the decision to himself, that Air Force personnel treated all politicians as idiots. This one had forgotten he'd been a Ranger. Or maybe, the side of his mouth curled upwards, the damned Air Force just treats all Army personnel as idiots he thought. He watched the missile climb faster and faster.
There was no visible light, no flashing beam he expected from seeing too many bad movies, just a sudden and catastrophic engine failure. The rocket continued to rise with its momentum but slowed dramatically within a few seconds.
"Mr. President, laser light used by our weapons fires in the 3800 to 4200 light wave band. Visible light shows up between roughly 400 to 800 in the band. That's why you didn't see a flash, Sir," said General Carr, the technical adviser to the project.
The rocket stopped moving, hung in the air, and instead of tumbling the way Gwinnett expected, slid back down the upward trail.
"Mr. President, the weight is all in the engines, Sir," said Carr. "The weight wins when the power is cut. The trailing fins may grab enough air and turn it slightly. No fancy explosion up there but you never know what will happen when it lands. That depends on the fuel and payload, Sir, and whether the payload is in active mode."
Gwinnett watched, fascinated, as the 30-story rocket picked up speed. He thought it seemed much faster coming down than going up. It smashed several hundred yards further away from the launch point. He decided the crash was spectacular enough with debris, smoke and dirt flung for a hundred yards from the impact zone. Then the remaining fuel lit up and he got his explosion. A massive fireball rose in the sky and his protective eyeglasses quickly turned smokey grey opaque to take away the glare but not the enjoyment of seeing the immense power of the explosion.
When the sound level returned to normal, Gwinnett took a few seconds to appreciate what this might mean to the future of warfare. The General interrupted his thoughts.
"Sir, we have two more demonstrations we'd like to show you. One is straightforward but the other may be disturbing."
He nodded, "Carry on, General."
"Sir, we promised the men operating these remote-controlled machines a month's holiday time and a year's salary as a bonus if they can keep their vehicles from being destroyed for thirty-seconds after you give the go signal. Simply say, 'Proceed' when you want to start the test. In case, all vehicles are stopped, the controller with the last vehicle moving will win the month's furlough. They are motivated, Sir."
The vehicles, from tanks to the smallest jeeps, began moving at high speed in irregular patterns, weaving and working to not get run over by their competitors across the tarmac right ahead of them. A tone sounded in their headsets and every vehicle veered off in a different direction leaving dust rooster tails behind them.
Gwinnett laughed. "Yes indeed. I can see that motivation General." He paused, then said, "Proceed."
In his headset, Gwinnett heard his order relayed, "Engaging."
Machines exploded or stopped. It was jarringly and surprisingly fast; the pandemonium of a hundred different moving vehicles of all shapes and sizes ended within fifteen seconds of the command being given.
"Sir, the vehicles that exploded were hit in the fuel cell areas while the others were disabled. The targeting AI knows which is which, Sir, and can be programmed to take either or."
"Impressive indeed, General. Is there anything this AI can't stop?" asked Gwinnett.
"Not that we're aware of, Sir. And that leads me to the last stage, Sir," said Carr. "This is irregular and if you order it, Sir, I will cease this demonstration. But we believe it is vital for you to understand this capacity."
Gwinnett never liked it when one of his officers avoided making tough decisions. His opinion of the General slipped a level.
"Sir, the service personnel you're about to see are volunteers. But all are also under a lifetime sentence or are condemned prisoners. They were given choices. Lifers could spend the rest of their lives in the hard-time, forces prison. Death sentences could be enacted. Or they could participate here today. If they participate, and avoid the lasers for ten seconds, they will be freed. All were given independent legal advice, and all signed. Their lawyers given the signed pardons in their presence. We have this entire process, with both participant and their legal representative in both writing and video, Sir."
Gwinnett understood what was coming. He met Sarah's eyes and saw her shrug. Gwinnett decided he'd sign the papers, too, if he were in one of these prisons. At least it would be a fast death rather than the sadistic, pain-filled life the military inflicted on those it considered to have broken its code.
"Proceed."
A hanger door opened and two large buses, windows blacked out, drove to the testing area. The prisoners emerged, one by one, to squint in the sudden sunshine and he saw each of their faces as they took in the surrounding carnage. One turned and tried to fight his way back onto the bus, and the trooper guarding the door tasered him. As the man lay twitching on the ground, the trooper entered the bus,
the door closed and the bus returned to the hanger.
The sole woman prisoner turned to the blockhouse, looking for the cameras she knew would be recording the event. Raising her hand over her head, she extended her middle finger, closed her eyes and hung her head. She remained motionless.
The rest started running the second they got off the bus. One disappeared down the open hatch of a disabled tank.
Gwinnett knew his face appeared grim. He didn't like this, but he appreciated the need to demonstrate exactly what the lasers could do. Some of the info had been crafted for him and the other politicians, but mostly, the exercise was for the spies who would soon be allowed to pay bribes to get the tapes. Of the two, getting the word out to other countries was more important than impressing him. If others countries didn't know what the laser weapons did, there was little point in investing in them as a deterrent.
He wasn't paying attention to the countdown as he was daydreaming of the implications of this technology when the reactions of his staff brought him out of his dreaming.
The best time any of the runners made was six seconds. That was the one who slipped into the tank. The AI controlling the lasers left him for last and then concentrated all its power, turning the tank into swiss cheese with the prisoner dead inside the metal shell. Killing the runners took the first three seconds and the two-inch steel plate of the tank armor took the remaining three. Again, there was no noise or sound from the lasers but every prisoner lay in the uncoordinated way they fell with their heads mostly exploded. The woman was stretched out on her back where she stood; he couldn't see the smile on what remained of her face.
He heard his Press Secretary retching in the back corner and the rest of his staff's faces looked like they were about to do the same. The acid smell of vomit filled the room in spite of the ventilation but Gwinnett's stomach never moved. He'd seen, and done, far worse in Africa.
2047: Hell In A Handbasket Page 17