by Ballan, Greg
“The attack vessel emitted a massive high frequency electromagnetic pulse that neutralized all of the electrical equipment,” a radar operator reported. “I can’t begin to estimate the kind of power that would be required to generate a pulse of that magnitude, sir, without some kind of atomic detonation. Those shuttles were battle hardened against any EMP interference and the aliens just turned them off!” The radar technician reported, awestruck.
“What’s their range from the rest of the fleet?” Ross demanded.
“One hundred thirteen thousand miles and closing at fifteen miles per second. That puts them in Earth orbit in a little over two hours, barring another acceleration from one of the escort ships,” another technician replied.
“Colonel Ross?” the watch officer called out. “What’s to stop them from sending out one of their escorts again and doing the same thing to our other forces? One ship just traveled nearly 100,000 miles in a matter of a few minutes and wiped out five of our most advanced spacecraft and then flew back at nearly 1,100 miles per second to rejoin its convoy, sir.”
“That was a mistake, captain,” Ross addressed the watch officer. “The last successful attack was launched when they came within close range. We just have to be patient and let them come to us.”
“No, sir!” The captain stood his ground. They’ll simply neutralize everything else we have up there.”
Ross marched up to the man. “What would you have me do, captain, surrender? Is that what you’d like us to do, simply surrender?”
“No, sir, but attacking again is not going to solve anything. Perhaps you should wait until the replacement officers arrive; maybe they know something we don’t. Maybe you need to—”
Colonel Ross jammed the barrel of his pistol under the captain’s chin. “You’re getting on my nerves, captain. I would strongly suggest that you go back to your station and remain quiet.”
The officer of the watch’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for aid. It was only then that he realized that the colonel himself handpicked all the technicians and controllers. Even though they seemed puzzled by his current actions, they would follow him blindly while he marched the Earth into apparent oblivion. Even the guards who carried M-16 rifles stood stone still while Ross threatened him.
“Permission to leave the control room, sir,” the captain requested.
Ross removed the pistol from under his chin. “Denied, go back to your post.”
The captain silently walked back to his terminal.
Colonel Ross studied the large digital map of the space between the Earth and the moon.
“At what distance from the alien ship did the shuttles first report control problems?” he asked aloud.
“Seven hundred miles from the object, sir. The vessel performed a high velocity pass and emitted the jamming beam.”
“Well inside the range of our Goliath’s laser batteries and torpedos,” Ross commented as he scratched his unshaven cheek. “We can bait them. We can bait them into range with our remaining shuttles.” Ross snapped his fingers.
“Sir, the president has just sent an executive order over the alpha scramble line to NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain, and to us – to cease all hostilities. Colonel Ross, you are to surrender yourself to the officer of the watch and remain in confinement until a proper accounting of your actions can be taken, if we survive the current crisis. End of message,” a technician read in a flat monotone.
“Bite me!” Ross replied. “Sever all lines of communication with the outside. We’ll fight this alone if need be. Have our remaining shuttles deploy another 5,000 miles out. I want them split into two groups and have the ships put some distance between themselves. I want those escort ships to have to move a bit to neutralize them. Have Goliath’s missiles and torpedoes ready to fire as soon as those craft are in range. We’re going fishing, my friends, and those remaining shuttles are our bait.”
Erik watched with fascination as the pilot of the F-22 fighter positioned the aircraft to take on the extra fuel required to reach its destination. Once refueled, the jet dropped away from the large tanker.
“That was an amazing display of control,” he said into his microphone.
“Thank you, Mr. Knight. It’s nice to have one’s work appreciated,” the pilot responded through his headset. “We just got an update on the situation over our heads,” the pilot added. “It seems that we lost another encounter with ‘E.T.’ Five of our shuttles are floating around in space dead or destroyed. The aliens are coming in ready for battle, and between you and me, I don’t think we have the toys to hold them off.”
A few moments of silence passed.
“I don’t see what one man down here can do against all that alien hardware up there,” the pilot said while keeping his focus on flying “No offense,” he added quickly.
“None taken,” Erik replied. “I do my best work when the odds are against me,” he added with mock arrogance.
The pilot’s laughter filled Erik’s headphones, “Well, Mr. Knight, let’s light the fires and get you there faster. We’ll have you sunbathing in the desert in no time.”
The Raptor’s twin engines went full throttle and shot the aircraft through the Mach scale.
* * * *
The alien fleet closed to within ten thousand miles of Earth and slowed.
The shuttles held their positions waiting for the smaller escort saucers to break off and attack. Colonel Ross felt a growing tightness in his stomach as Goliath and the shuttles relayed a continuous feed.
“Eight thousand miles and closing,” a technician reported.
“C’mon” Ross urged. “Take the bait. Put all your attention on those shuttles.”
The escorts finally broke formation to head toward the shuttles, ignoring Goliath. The large carrier had come within range of the battle platform’s torpedoes. Ross didn’t waste any time.
“Fire Goliath’s atomic torpedoes!”
Two seconds later, the digital images relayed several torpedoes speeding toward the large carrier.
“Fire the lasers. Give that carrier something to occupy its time until the torpedoes impact.”
Goliath’s laser batteries erupted in a blinding flash as the brilliant ruby lances reached out toward the alien carrier.
Colonel Ross watched with satisfaction as the ruby lances struck their target. “Keep firing, bring the ion cannons to bear and keep watch on those support ships.”
The four massive ion cannon turrets turned toward their target and unleashed their energy pulses toward the massive carrier. The energy pulses collided with the carrier and erupted upon the alien ship’s already scarred surface. Maybe he had finally won one against these creatures. The surprise attack had seemed to be working, at least for the first two minutes.
“You see!” Ross exclaimed. “They’re not invulnerable!”
The display screen went completely white. Ross whooped and shouted as the torpedoes detonated.
“Sir,” a technician reported, “the torpedoes detonated early. They were destroyed, detonated by some kind of beam from the carrier. The ship is accelerating.”
“Our shuttles have been neutralized,” another operator announced in dismay.
“Where are the alien escorts?” Ross leaned closer to the display screen.
“They’re now forming up in front of the carrier, providing a screen. Those ships are on a vector headed right for Goliath.”
“Move Goliath out of that path and keep firing our energy weapons. That’s the best we can do for now.” Ross fell into his command chair, stunned at this sudden turn of fortune.
“Goliath is firing,” a voice in the control center announced.
“The alien fleet has adjusted course on an interception vector back toward Goliath.”
“Goliath has destroyed one escort ship, sir. The others are accelerating toward Goliath, firing on the platform!”
Ross leapt up as Goliath’s onboard cameras transmitted the two bright green balls of burning plasma closin
g on the weapons platform. Nothing could be done but watch as the green energy blobs engulfed the fifty-meter platform. Goliath glowed momentarily and then disintegrated bit by bit.
After five short seconds the weapons platform simply ceased to exist. The display screen now relayed nothing but static.
“What do we have from those shuttles?” Ross asked as he forced himself to sit.
“They no longer appear on our radar or satellite surveillance systems,” a radar operator announced.
“Shit!” Ross grabbed his head between his hands. “They’ll be coming here shortly. Prepare our ground defenses. Notify NORAD that we’ve failed in our attempts to stop the invaders. Inform them that we can expect ground forces within the hour.”
“Colonel, NORAD wants you put under shackles, as does the president,” the officer of the watch reminded him.
“Then they can come here and arrest me if they like, but they’ll have a bunch of little gray men running around controlling this outpost if we don’t get some additional backup hardware,” Ross replied angrily. “Get all of our ground forces on combat alert. I want whatever hardware we have available on the field, and ready for action in twenty minutes or less. We’re going to have guests shortly. Let’s hope we have better luck on the ground than we did in space.”
Ross had gambled and lost. The aliens had beaten them soundly. He thought there was little use of a ground war based on their earlier catastrophic encounter with the single alien probe.
“Sir, we have images from Hubble telescope. The alien carrier has opened some kind of bay door and several smaller craft are dropping into the atmosphere. Based on drop and angle of entry we project that the craft will land a few kilometers outside our base.”
Subdued by the recent events, Ross stared at the large tactical display monitor. Several small, egg shaped objects were falling into Earth orbit. He was powerless to prevent it. He’d fought the war for his world single handedly and single handedly he’d failed. Ross wondered if he’d truly signed Earth’s death warrant.
* * * *
Erik was studying the ground below when the pilot interrupted his observations. “Agent Knight, I thought you’d want to know that our space-based forces have been eliminated. NORAD has informed the proper channels that a ground invasion of Earth has begun. The point of attack will definitely be Area 51. NORAD and Falcon’s Nest are launching fighters and bombers to saturate the area. The Pentagon is considering a tactical nuclear strike upon their ground forces.”
“What’s our ETA?” Erik asked the pilot.
“Fifty minutes at our current speed of Mach 1.5.” The pilot gave him a grim look, adding, “We’ll be arriving in the middle of a firefight.”
“Can you squeeze any more out of this plane?”
“This bird will do close to Mach 3, but we’d fall from the sky before we got there. We have only enough fuel to get us there safely at our present speed, especially with the headwind we’re flying into.”
“Damn it.” Erik thought about his beloved Shanda stuck in the middle of a battle at ground zero. “These aliens are starting to piss me off,” Erik mumbled. “Damn you, Ross, for provoking the Observers. This is your fault,” he muttered.
Erik switched his focus from the ships in the heavens back to his current surroundings. He focused his senses out to the air around him. He could feel the force of the headwind as it battered the sleek aircraft. His hybrid’s eyes burned as he focused his will on the low-pressure mass, pushing it further away from the streamlined fighter jet while exciting the molecules in the colder air mass. The increased molecular motion heated the air, increasing the pressure. As a result the airflow from the high to low-pressure systems was greatly reduced.
He then created a pocket of cold air in front of the aircraft and willed that cold air envelope to keep pace directly in front of the plane. The result produced a powerful flow of air behind the jet as the warmer air behind the aircraft now surged toward the cold mass he’d created though force of will. The hybrid had effectively neutralized the headwind and created a tailwind to push the jet along its forward path.
Erik felt the Raptor lurch forward.
“Son of a bitch!” The lurch forward excited the pilot. “This is your lucky day, Agent Knight. We just lost the headwind and picked up one hell of a push against our backside. It seems Mother Nature wants to get you there on time.”
“I’ll take help wherever I can get it,” Erik replied lightly as he kept part of his focus on the swiftly moving patch of cold air.
“I can throttle up a little as long as this tailwind holds up. We can probably pull Mach 2 and still have just enough juice to set this bird down. It may be a little risky.” The pilot turned to him. “Are you game?”
“Kick it up another notch,” Erik replied, adding a nod for good measure.
* * * *
The three remaining M-1 armored tanks and several portable EMP batteries had been deployed outside the Groom Lake facility. The two prototype Mach 6 Phoenix fighters and six F-22 Raptors had been fueled and prepped for launch. Any man or woman who could carry a weapon was armed and deployed – in preparation for the arrival of the alien ground forces. The scientists that had been working on the Nikola Tesla energy beam weapon had managed to salvage one energy coil and retrofit it onto a small ion cannon. This was the most formidable weapon that Groom Lake could bring to bear on the incoming hostiles.
Colonel Ross watched the Hubble telescope feed as the gigantic alien carrier and its remaining escorts hovered a thousand miles out over the Groom Lake installation, seemingly invincible and now untouchable. The Colonel watched another digital feed that displayed the alien ground forces touching down in the desert a handful of miles outside his established defensive perimeter. The imagery was too distorted to make out any distinct features because of the sand storm kicked up by their landing.
Lt. Colonel Bill Anderson was escorted, under guard, into the control center. Ross was aware of his ex-friend’s brilliance in the area of military strategy. He hoped to gain some insights from him despite their differences. Anderson shook his head as he considered the forces laid out before him. He was reluctant to aid Ross in this foolhardy endeavor but his survival instinct kicked in.
“Move those batteries in sectors three and four to higher ground,” he began. “Our tanks are exposed sitting out there like that. We’ve seen what they can do to an M-1 already. Let’s at least get four or five rounds out of these before they’re melted to molten slag.”
“Where do you suggest deploying them?” Ross asked.
Anderson picked up a light pen and began drawing on the digital display. “Based on the area where these ships have touched down, and the topography, they’re going to have to advance between these two sections of higher ground. If we deploy our tanks to these higher points on the rock ledge we can extend their firing range and catch the invaders as they approach. This will provide our tanks with an avenue of escape and cover.”
Anderson feverishly continued drawing lines to represent the movement of forces. “These overhangs are sturdy enough to support the weight of our tanks and will provide some relative protection from retaliatory strikes. I’d want our EMP batteries dug in another hundred meters back, using the training bunkers as cover. I know you have people there but small arms fire will be useless in this kind of fight.” Anderson straightened and looked at Ross.
Ross acknowledged the strategy with a nod and radioed the changes to the deployed forces. Both men looked to the display monitors feeding info from the outermost observation post. All that was left to do was wait. The alien ground forces would make their move and the human military would respond.
Ross and Anderson could see a shiny reflection of sunlight that grew into a foreboding shape.
“Here they come!” Ross whispered.
They could hear the radio chatter among the perimeter forces and the M-1 tank crews as they waited anxiously to commence their attack.
Upon seeing his first images
of the alien ground forces, Ross stared at his opponents with awe. The alien machines they were facing were easily three to four stories tall and floated two meters above the sand. Each large craft had five arms that reminded him of tentacles and the tip of each appendage glowed an unearthly greenish hue. Ross knew instinctively that the arms were weapons. Each craft had a chartreuse ocular eye, similar to the one on the probe they had battled earlier. The eerie glowing eyes moved back and forth, continuously surveying the landscape.
Ross counted twenty of these massive craft. A feeling of doom overcame him; he could only speculate on the power system used to suspend craft of such great masses. They never fluctuated in their height despite the uneven terrain beneath them. The sand underneath the vessels shifted and swirled as the craft moved slowly forward. Ross also spotted six spider probes identical to the one they had battled earlier.
As the vessels passed through the gully between the two sand-covered rock ledges, the M-1 tanks opened fire. The explosive shells impacted against the alien hull metal with a display of sparks and fire, scoring several hits. Those alien vessels that were hit buckled slightly but suffered no real damage from the tanks’ modified shells. The probes swung around to respond. The tanks retreated to the backside of the ledges. Several probes fired their energy beams into the overhang, their greenish white beams tearing into the rocky ledge, scattering rock fragments.
A landslide of rock debris resulted, forming a natural wall several feet high, which obstructed the invaders’ path. One M-1 tank advanced from its hiding position and accelerated toward the advancing alien force. The lone M-1 was moving at a fast speed down the sandy gradient while firing EMP rounds as fast as the machine’s autoloader could prep the main gun. Each round scored direct hits on the advancing forces but failed to fatally cripple any of the approaching ships.
“Our tanks are ineffective against their armor,” Anderson observed.
“Call in the fighters,” Ross ordered the communication technician. “Get those tanks some air cover.”