Virginia Pollock, still there as an observer, patted the general on the arm and then she too left. She wanted to go to the ladies’ room and be sick, as she had never imagined that such carnage could be absorbed by one nation. She left with her head hung low.
General Maxwell Caulfield slowly turned away from the horrid aerial views of the burning capital city of China. He placed a hand over his eyes and then sat at the main conference table, never so ashamed in his life.
On another set of monitors flames rose high over the completely destroyed city of Mumbai. The Indian air force had attempted the same attack method as the Chinese, only they had used almost their full arsenal of nuclear missiles. The large saucer had survived the strikes of no less than the combined megatonnage of fifty warheads. With the aid of the two replenishment craft that had completely destroyed that nation’s surface fleet near the Strait of Mumbai, she had shed her defensive shield and now the giant processing vehicle was rising from the ashes of the once proud city as she too started to head for space and the raging wormhole the American imaging section said was forming. The craft entered the swirling mass of light and then departed for her home fleet with no less than three million souls in her cargo holds. Despair covered the entire world.
“This is why I will not sacrifice the military forces of this nation in a plan that would result in this.” Camden stood and gestured at the two completely destroyed cities on the screens below. “The American people will back me on this.”
Caulfield raised his head and took in the man standing at the thick glass. “You don’t know them, do you?”
Camden turned at the sound of the general’s voice. “Excuse me?”
Caulfield stood, shaking off the restraining hands of his Air Force counterpart as he foresaw the confrontation developing.
“I said you don’t know them very well, do you?” Caulfield stepped around the large table and strode to face the president.
“Know who?” Camden was joined by several members of his young staff, who feared they were about to witness something unprecedented.
“The American people!” Caulfield turned and gestured at the screen below that showed the two lost cities. “Do you for one minute think that they will be proud of what happened last night? We had a chance at a united defense with weapons developed just for this scenario, but we failed them, Mr. President. If word ever leaked out, and it will, that we basically stabbed our allies in the back, they will crucify you and I’ll be there to help. Americans don’t run, never have. Despite what most think, we do like the rest of the world, and would never, ever wish to see this tragedy befall anyone. And we refused to even assist in the rescue of drowning seamen?” He shook his head and started for the door, joined by two of the chiefs and, to Camden’s surprise, many of the politically neutral civilian staff.
“My resignation is in your security advisor’s hands,” Caulfield said.
Camden wanted to smile as he nodded his head at the security advisor, who held up the resignation letter that had been delivered to him by the general’s aide not long after Admiral Fuqua had left the room. He then opened the door to allow General Sydney Lefferts, the new head of the Joint Chiefs, into the room. The plan for getting rid of all the former president’s remaining cabinet had been initiated.
“General, are you prepared to defend the nation?” Camden asked as he placed his hands behind his back.
The U.S. Army four-star general nodded his head as the remainder of the chiefs shook theirs.
“Sir, we have recalled the 82nd and 101st from their former stations that were a part of this Operation Overlord. Thus far there has been no response, but we should be able to track them down now that the head has been removed from the traitorous—”
The rumble of men in the room voiced what most were feeling at the moment by the use of the word traitorous. Many, while not backing General Caulfield’s and Admiral Fuqua’s actions in this highly secretive plan, would not stand by and allow this man to say such a thing about an American officer who had dedicated his life to the nation.
Camden felt the first rift among his people and didn’t like it.
“Being traitorous is for history to decide. We don’t wish to stir harsh emotions in this room.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Lefferts, said bowing to the man’s wishes. “We have thus far initiated military law in all cities above a million-person population, and the smaller cities will be under military control over civil law enforcement.”
Camden was shocked when the CIA and FBI directors also got up and left without a word.
“Thank you, General. I want your new staff to get me a battle plan immediately that I can fully explain to the general population. No need to keep them in the dark. We must let them know their leaders are going to protect them far better than those in other nations.”
“Yes, sir, our National Guard units are rolling into New York, Chicago, Houston, Dallas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and other cities as we speak. I believe the populace will be willing to listen to anything you have to say very soon.”
Camden nodded his gratitude and then left with his staff following close behind—all except the two men who shared the president’s public relations duties. They exchanged looks of horror as they stood, stunned, as the calligraphers gathered their materials.
“This is beginning to smell bad. Control the civil population?”
“Those cracks yesterday about the Berlin thing, that’s not sounding that ridiculous any longer.” The taller of the two was betting his Harvard law degree that once Camden seized control there would be no wresting the power from his tight grip that he now seemed to be consolidating.
The two men didn’t know what they would do, but knew they hadn’t gotten into the political side of things to be a part of a coup, no matter how ingeniously it was disguised.
“Feel like taking a side trip to Walter Reed?”
“Yeah, why not? I would rather get shot trying to warn someone than be ordered to fall on my sword when we don’t agree with something this man says.”
The two men left the situation room more scared of their commander-in-chief than by the enemy that had just destroyed two of the world’s most populated cities.
13
JOHNSON SPACE CENTER
HOUSTON, TEXAS
Carl was sitting against the deep subbasement wall and was struck in the face by a pair of tan naval dress pants. He looked up at the cigar-chomping master chief as he stood before him.
“Where did you dig these up?” Everett asked. He tried to clear his head after being knocked into a semiconscious state after falling through the training center roof.
Jenks became sullen as he removed the stub of cigar from his mouth and then fixed his old student with the look that said it was time to buck up and listen.
“Plenty of uniforms and everything else lying around; hope they fit.”
Everett stood and removed the bathrobe that was covered in blood and then accepted a torn T-shirt from the master chief.
“Well?” Carl asked. “You’re not one for dramatics, Jenks, what’s the score?”
“As far as I can see, we just got our asses royally kicked. Can’t see much from under here until they dig us out, but you can bet there’s not much left up top.” Jenks looked away at the memory of hundreds of F-15, F-16, and Hornets falling from the sky like hailstones before he had slipped down the torn and twisted stairwell to get to the admiral moments before the building started to collapse around their ears. “Got a few boys down here in the subbasement, some of them are hurt real bad, but it’s better than what it is out there.” He gestured at the collapsed concrete and steel above their heads. “We lost a lot of good people, Toad.” Jenks looked sad, unlike him according to Everett’s memory. “My whole goddamn engineering department is gone.” He looked down at his feet and then angrily threw the cigar away. “I think I was a little hard on those kids.”
“You didn’t kill them, Jenksy,” Carl said as he slipped th
e filthy T-shirt over his head.
“Yeah, I guess.” He reached into his scorched lab coat and brought out five plastic disks. “But all their work didn’t die with them.” He held up the computer discs. “I have all of our simulations right here. All we have to do is get them to where my babies are waiting. I think these hold the keys to the bugs we sorted out.”
“Your babies?” Everett looked around the dimly lighted area beneath the training center.
“Yeah, the goddamn vessels that will get your boys to the target. They’re not here. Thank God some moron was bright enough not to have the ships and the men that would fly them in one place. No, my two girls are down with the rest of Overlord.”
Admiral Everett was looking at the angry men in the basement until he saw a familiar face. It was the young navy SEAL he had confronted during the training exercise that very morning. He was leaning over and tending to the wounds of a Delta sergeant sitting against the cinder-block wall. He saw Everett and then stood.
“How many made it to the shelters?” Carl asked as he too leaned over and examined the Delta commando’s wounds.
“I’m not sure, sir. The whole damn building came down around our ears as we tried to get below.” He looked around at the remaining men of the admiral’s command. “I think all of the officers from both Delta and the SEALs were killed, I’m not sure. At least half of the … the…”
Jenks walked up to the young SEAL and whispered something to him as Carl watched. The kid straightened and then faced the admiral. “Sorry, sir, it looks like we’ll be down to half strength.”
Everett nodded his thanks and then allowed the SEAL to continue tending the soldier, who looked as if he were going to join those already killed by the enemy’s surprise attack.
“How in the hell did they allow this to happen?” he asked Jenks as he turned angrily to face him.
The master chief managed to find another fresh cigar in the rumpled lab coat and stuck it in his mouth.
“We always knew it was a possibility, that’s why the separation of the engineering boys down south and the training of personnel here in Houston. We couldn’t take the chance of having both elements together. It just so happened that those Gray bastards singled us out.” He removed the cigar and fixed Everett with the look that made the master chief the terror of the United States Navy during his long tenure. “So don’t go thinkin’ your bosses left you and your men hangin’ out to dry, they didn’t. What we have to do now is get our shit together and head south as soon as we can pick up the pieces. As far as your command is concerned, you’ll have to pick up some warm bodies from the command already down south.”
“Why not here?”
“Because, as of six hours ago, this entire unit is ignoring the orders directly from the president of the United States. That means we’re not only deserters, Toad, but now a bunch of pirates that’s soon to be on our own.”
“All right, Master Chief, I’ve had about enough of this secrecy crap. What do you know?”
Jenks finally laughed out loud, drawing questioning looks from the men left in the basement.
“You orderin’ me to answer, Toad?” he asked as his smile remained.
Carl took a deep breath and then shook his head. “No, I’m asking not just for me, but them.” He gestured at the dead and wounded men around them.
“Goddamn, that’s below the belt, Toad.”
“Yes, it is.”
“This Overlord plan is so departmentalized for security reasons I only know my part … and yours. The rest is as big a mystery to me as it is to you. Whatever the large part of Overlord is, it’s bigger than anything I can imagine. If they are using my designs for what they are intended for, I really do want to see the delivery method.”
“Explain,” Everett said, not letting up.
Jenks lit his cigar in the darkness of the basement. “Okay, Toad, we have one of the original simulators for one of my babies right down here.” The master chief turned at another set of steel stairs and then stopped. “Well, you wanna see or not?”
Everett followed Jenks into the bowels of the subbasement.
When they got down the two flights of stairs Carl saw a large object covered in plastic sheeting in the center of a large room. Jenks went to a desk that was covered in dust and then found a flashlight in one of its drawers. He flicked it on and gestured for the admiral to follow.
“This was the original prototype of my initial design. We worked out the engineering with some of those boys from DARPA and NASA. But it’s my baby, make no mistake about it. They helped some, I guess, but mostly on the subsequent versions.” Jenks pulled the plastic away from the large vehicle.
“What in the hell is this?” Carl asked. He had to step back and look at the amazing sight before him.
“This is the landing craft Spruance.” Jenks’s eyes traveled over the graceful lines of the spacecraft. “The first of her kind and the lead vessel for a new class of transport—smaller than the space shuttle, but sturdier and a whole lot faster.”
Everett examined the lines of the ship. It did look like a smaller version of the shuttle, with the exception of the wing assembly. These were short and stubby, almost nonexistent. The tail boom was that only in name, as it ended abruptly just aft of what Carl assumed was the cargo hold.
“Seats a command crew of six, plus the load master. She’s capable of transporting a strike element of fully equipped, fully suited commandos to their final destination. She is armed with two five-thousand-watt laser cannon designed by the boys at DARPA and the Raytheon Corporation.” He turned to face Everett. “I understand that you may have had a hand in securing the technology somewhere in South America.” He smiled. “If the rumors are true.”
Carl didn’t answer as he examined the snow-white skin of the landing craft. He saw the collar on the front nose of the ship below the pilot’s compartment and the ring that would secure it to whatever target it was sent against. It was designed to mate with another craft, but Carl didn’t know what that craft was, but knew his men had been training for its eventual use on the destroyed mock-up that came crashing down with the training center.
“There, now you know as much as myself, Toad, my boy.” Jenks turned and admired the obsolete version of the ship that he had designed. He puffed on the cigar vigorously as he turned back to Carl. “Now, you gonna go with it, or do you want to sit down and cry your little pussy eyes out over the fact that not everybody hands out secret shit like Halloween candy—you little shit-ass.”
Everett turned and faced his old SEAL instructor and shook his head as he returned his gaze to the amazing seventeen-ton craft sitting on its pedestal.
“I think I’ll come along for the ride, you old, crusty son of a bitch.”
“That’s more fucking like it, you candy-ass officer.”
CAMP ALAMO
ANTARCTICA
The winds had picked up just after their arrival at Camp Alamo. Jack stood warming his hands at the space heater as Henri fumbled with the bulky arctic gear, trying to remove the warm parka. Will Mendenhall made no bones about staring at the young British SAS officer who sat at the small desk, writing out the departure time of the helicopters that had delivered the three to the most desolate spot in the world.
Will leaned over and showed him the black captain’s bars on his collar. The SAS lieutenant looked up and gave Mendenhall a brief smile and nodded his head in approval, then returned to his logbook.
“In America,” Will said, drawing his words out like he was explaining something to an immigrant that spoke very little English, “a captain outranks a lieutenant. How about in your country?” he asked as Jack looked over with a small smile. Henri stopped struggling with the bulky parka and watched the exchange. The lieutenant had remained silent since their arrival and that was also getting on the Frenchman’s nerves as much as Will’s.
The lieutenant stopped writing and then fixed Will with that irritating grin.
“Yes, sir, the chain of com
mand is very much like your own. However, the man who will answer your inquiry will arrive shortly.” He smiled and nodded his head. “Sir.”
Mendenhall gave the SAS lieutenant a dirty look and then turned to Collins. “These guys keep a secret better than the director.” He too went to the space heater and warmed his cold hands.
The lieutenant finally stood up as the buzzer on the plastic wall went off. It was like an old-fashioned telephone ring that shut off after only a second. The lieutenant walked to the far wall and faced the still struggling Farbeaux, who had finally removed the difficult parka.
“Colonel, please step aside. Professor Bennett has arrived.” The lieutenant gestured for Henri to step closer to Jack and Will.
The three men heard the soft whine of an electric motor and then the plywood flooring gently parted near the far wall. As it did the two halves slid back, revealing an opening that was dark and foreboding. As they watched in amazement a man in a furry winter coat rose from the darkened abyss. The disguised elevator stopped and the man stepped off.
“Does the same guy that invented half the stuff at Group design stuff for everyone?” Will asked as they watched the man with the thick, horn-rimmed glasses approach them.
“Evidently,” Collins answered as he took in the average-sized man.
“General Collins?” He held his hand out to Jack.
“Yes,” was the quick answer as he shook the man’s offered hand.
“Bloody good.” He shook first Will’s and then Henri’s hands. “You made the perilous trek in one piece, good show. No unexpected in-flight horrors, I take it?”
“If you call potholes in the sky a horror, we had plenty of those,” Collins said as he examined closely the strange man before him.
“Potholes,” the man repeated, and then got what Jack was saying. “Ah, yes, potholes. Good show, old man. Yes, I can only guess at the rough air you must have traveled through all the way from the States.”
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