Beyond Armageddon IV: Schism

by DeCosmo, Anthony

  "General Brewer, this is Captain Kaufman. I need to know why the Excalibur is out of dry dock without authorization."

  Jon answered, "Kristy, last time I checked I don't answer to you. And I am authorized to change the Excalibur's duties as I see fit. She is my ship."

  "Excuse me, General, but my orders come from the Secretary of Defense."

  "What are your orders, Captain? Specifically."

  She explained, "To intercept your ship and ascertain your intentions."

  An F-15 flew close enough to shake the bridge window.

  "I will tell you my intentions, Captain. I am investigating evidence that recently came to light in regards to the assassination of Trevor Stone. I am acting in reaction to an imminent threat to our nation."

  Kaufman transmitted, "Sir, I'm afraid I need more information than that. Or, I guess, the Secretary of Defense will need more information than that. What is your course?"

  Jon leaned toward the speaker on the console and through clenched teeth told his opposite number, "That information is classified. But tell Dante Jones to come aboard my ship and I will share the info with him personally. Tell him we have a lot to discuss."

  "He's, well, he's not here, sir," Kaufman answered. "He's back in Washington."

  "Then I suggest you go back there and tell him what I just told you."

  The planes flew closer. The Chrysaor held its position.

  "I can't do that, sir."

  "What do you mean, you can't do that? Let me make it simple for you, Captain. As your superior officer I'm giving you a direct order. Stand down."

  "My orders—"

  "I just gave you new orders," General Brewer commanded. "Now you have a choice to make, Captain. You can get out of my way, or you can open fire on my ship."

  That struck a nerve with Kaufman. "Sir! I have no intention of—"

  "No? Isn't that what Dante told you to do?"

  "He—"

  "Answer me, Kristy! You are talking to Jon Brewer, not some damn politician. You will answer me."

  "I was…I was given orders to turn you back, with whatever means necessary."

  Brewer cut through all the political posturing, all the gray areas, all the back room chit-chats with winks and nods. He spelled it out for Kristy Kaufman.

  "The Secretary of Defense told you to come out here and shoot us out of the sky if you had to. So tell me Kristy, are you going to kill Bear, too? He's standing right here, next to me. What would Stonewall think? What would he tell you to do? I know you're close to Dante, but I can't believe you're going to follow orders as wrong as those. But then again, I didn't think Evan would allow the Witiko to take away Trevor's son, JB. You remember Jorge, don't you? Weren't you at the estate one year for his birthday party?"

  "What? Trevor's son? I don't believe that. I can't believe that."

  "I guess that's up to you. You decide who to believe. What does your gut tell you?"

  The Captain of the Chrysaor tried to find an easy way out: "I think… I think Dante and Evan are just interested in the fugitives. If they're not on your ship, then I see no reason to—"

  Jon would not let her take an easy way out. "They're right here, Captain, standing on my bridge. Nina, Ashley, and Rick Hauser are right here and Gordon Knox is in my sick bay. My wife and my daughter are onboard, too. You remember them, don't you? We started it all together, with Trevor. I remember the day you and Stonewall, Bear and Dustin and Benny came to the estate. Garrett told stories for hours and he had to keep reminding everyone that he knew he wasn't Stonewall Jackson. Do you remember that?"

  Silence for several long seconds. The planes continued to circle.

  "Yes."

  "What's happened since then, Kristy? How did we get here?" Jon's voiced carried not only over the speaker, but around the bridge. "Somewhere along the way we lost sight of what's really going on. Each year we had more and more bureaucrats; each year more side issues to distract us. There are politicians in Washington more worried about image and public relations than survival. They’re dancing around while the house is still burning."

  A hint of sadness came across the speaker: "The General, he knew how to boil things down to what was important."

  "I miss him, too," Brewer said.

  Ross muttered a soft "hoo-rah" from the command module.

  Jon continued, "What would he say right now?"

  Kristy chuckled and replied, "He'd say this is a fine pickle we've gotten ourselves in. Or something like that."

  Jon nodded, "Wow, yeah, that's exactly how he would put it."

  "I'm in a tough spot, General," she conceded. "I have friends on both sides."

  "You have to choose, Kristy. I thought I could keep it at arm's length, but I was wrong. It's up to those of us who've been a part of this since the beginning. We know the big picture and we worked too hard to come this far. We can't let it fall apart now. We have an obligation."

  "But I have orders."

  "Then fire on my ship, Captain. Does that seem like the right thing to do? If it does, let's fight this out right here where there's no witnesses to see what fools we can be."

  "I don't…I don't want to do that."

  "It doesn't matter what you want," he corrected sternly. "What matters is what you have to do. It’s been that way since Trevor knocked on my door after the monsters came. If it was about what we wanted to do, then we would have stayed curled up in that lakeside house and let the world die. It's about what we have to do. Trevor knew that. Reverend Johnny knew that. Stonewall knew that. And you know that."

  Jon turned to Ross and ordered, "Forward, one-quarter."

  "Sir?"

  "You heard me. Forward, one-quarter."

  Brewer returned his attention to the speaker and the Chrysaor.

  "We're going now, Kristy. Put your planes back on your deck and get out of my way, or we're going to ram you. The decision is yours. Do what you have to do."

  The Excalibur's engines thrust the gigantic ship forward on a collision course with the other titan.

  Ross warned, "She can be stubborn, general."

  Jon glared at the former football player and said, "So can I."

  The silhouette grew in the bridge windows. Moonbeams reflected of portals and hatches, bulkheads and gun ports. Lori Brewer grabbed her husband's hand and while he kept a stoic picture painted on his face, he returned her grip hard.

  The Chrysaor sunk beneath the bow descending more than five hundred feet in a matter of seconds. The jets stopped buzzing and returned to their flight deck.

  Kristy Kaufman sent another message. "When they find out that I let you go, they'll just order Hoth to intercept you. He's not far away, and he won't be swayed by sentiment, General."

  "I know," Brewer said.

  Ashley asked, "You think General Hoth is a part of it?"

  Jon glossed over with a simple, "No," leaving Nina to explain, "General Hoth is a good man, but he's by the book. Listen, as far as he's concerned, his orders come from Dante now. He'll follow those orders, no matter what."

  The Chrysaor set a leisurely course west toward the mainland. The Excalibur traveled north by northeast.

  ---

  A fireball sun rose over the eastern horizon, its rays filled the bridge with a golden glow. Beneath that sun and the mammoth battleship nothing but calm Atlantic Ocean.

  After taking a two hour nap, Brewer returned to the control center and met with Bear who had worked as the "brain" of the ship for hours.

  "You need a break," Jon placed a hand on Ross’ shoulder as he stepped from the command module, relieved. "And thanks for everything, especially last night. I mean wow, it got a little close there."

  "You don't need to thank me, sir. I'm your first officer. You say the word, and I'll jump."

  Jon knew part of that loyalty came from the innate character of Woody Ross, maybe from his football days when team work and discipline helped his University of Miami Hurricanes win a national title. But he also knew that a man na
med "Stonewall" McAllister had left his mark on those he had pulled from the ruins during that first year; people like Bear Ross and Kristy Kaufman.

  Ross and Brewer parted ways with the former headed toward the exit and the latter stepping into the 'brain' compartment. Before either reached their destination, the bright rays of sun shining into the cockpit flickered.

  Shouts and curses rang out among the bridge crew.

  Jon raised a hand above his eyes to block the rays and stared outside. There, at the tip of the bow, appeared two Witiko Stingrays bouncing up as if launched from springs below. They hovered in front of the Excalibur for a second then their lasers fired with streaming beams of energy hitting two spots at the front of the ship. Jon saw debris rise from the hull there and felt the entire dreadnought shimmy.

  The Stingrays raced forward, growing fast in the window.

  Stanton hauled himself out from beneath a control panel and shouted, "They’re going to take out the bridge!"

  Jon entered the command module and accessed a control screen, frantically pushing an icon on the touchscreen display.

  The heavy duty bridge shield slid shut over the windows just as the Witiko lasers fired again. That shield glowed red, chunks of Steel Plus cracked and fell, a beam of sunlight and a gust of air blew in through a freshly burned hole. Had the shield closed a second slower, the entire bridge crew would have been killed.

  Jon put on goggles and an earpiece, taking full control of the ship as "brain" in the command module. Displays relayed damage information, weapons readiness, and a visual image of the attacking ships, but the radar showed blank.

  A series of warnings explained to Brewer exactly what the Witiko had hit with their first volley: PRIMARY BATTERY ENERGY CONDUIT INOPERATIONAL; DAMAGE TO HULL PLATES 117, 118, 119, 130,131,132.

  Jon knew the dreadnought schematics well enough to translate the computer gobbledygook into practical information. In their first volley, the Witiko had knocked out the topside "boppers" with two perfectly-aimed shots, causing tremendous damage to the ship’s fighting capability.

  And they nearly took out the bridge with another shot.

  A voice came through the communications array: "This is Chancellor D'Trayne of the Witiko. Your presence here is in violation of the treaty. Turn back or you will be destroyed."

  ---

  Evan sat on the veranda unwrapping the shell from a hardboiled egg with one hand and holding a portable phone with the other. A glass of Florida orange juice waited in front of the President alongside toast and a slab of fresh bacon. While he worked to peel the egg, his wife paged through the day's newspaper.

  A clear sky and a light breeze made it an absolutely wonderful Sunday morning. The birds chirped. All seemed right in the world.

  However, a phone call from Roos spoiled Evan's mood and—if that were not bad enough—the sight of Dante Jones marching toward him soured the President's peace completely.

  First things first.

  "Tell Tucker to give up. If he hasn't found the girl by now he's not going to find her. The locals have probably been running him in circles protecting the little rug rat. What? No. I want him and you back here for the Wednesday press conference. I need as many friendly faces around as I can get. Who? Keep Shepherd isolated for now. I won't be sure how I want to use him until later this morning. I'll let you know. Good bye, Ray."

  "Trouble?" Sharon asked without looking away from the newspaper.

  "Just a few rough spots. Nothing to fret over, my dear," he knew she would not fret anyway. Sharon had her revenge. Since Trevor's deliverance into agony she had grown bored. That boredom made Evan nervous, but he would deal with that later. Next came Dante.

  "The Chrysaor didn't stop them," the President guessed before the Secretary of Defense could speak. "I doubted they would. Captain Kaufman may share your bed on occasion, but her loyalties lay with the original band of survivors. It's like an exclusive club or something."

  Dante tried to make amends for the misstep: "I dispatched attack subs from shore patrol to track the Excalibur. They can't, you know, engage but they'll let us know what he's up to. They should catch them sometime this morning if their course holds."

  Evan focused on the last pieces of shell stuck to the egg.

  "You needn't worry, Dante. I have it on good authority that Chancellor D'Trayne will personally intercept the Excalibur with two of their Stingrays. That will be the end of that."

  The President's lack of military knowledge shocked Jones.

  "You're kidding, right? They might do some damage, but a dreadnought will take out two Stingrays."

  Godfrey bit into the egg, chewed, and told Jones: "Usually, yes. That's why I provided the Chancellor with the Excalibur's blue prints and specifications. That should even the odds."

  ---

  "Fox one, fox two. Two heat seekers away," Brett Stanton echoed the commands Jon Brewer entered from his station at the 'brain' of the ship, serving as a translator of the action for Lori Brewer who hovered at the bridge entrance.

  Outside, two missiles fired in pursuit of the Witiko ships as the Stingrays made their third dive-bomb style attack on the top side of the dreadnought. Each time their lasers hit sensitive spots, the weaker bulkheads, and defensive emplacements, then they cut their dive off sharp and climbed again above the Excalibur.

  With each pass, Jon fired infrared sidewinders. The missiles climbed in pursuit of the fast-moving attackers who seemed like bumblebees trying to strike an elephant. But Jon's elephant lacked tusks. The Stingrays did not appear on any radar scopes and hence were immune to radar-locking munitions. Worse, their first strike destroyed the top side main batteries, meaning only the belly boppers remained.

  It became clear to Jon that the Witiko’s initial shots had not been lucky but well-planned. They had known exactly where to hit, and now remained above the dreadnought where the belly boppers could not reach them.

  Unless the Stingrays decided to fly under the Excalibur, Jon could only use his heat-seeking sidewinders to defend his ship. The damned things could pinprick him with near impunity.

  Two of those sidewinders closed on targets, one for each Stingray. Brewer watched via telescopic cameras as his shots zeroed in on the powerful rear rockets of the alien fighters.

  Closer…closer…

  Both Stingrays ejected heat flares, completely fooling one missile but the second hit, causing a glancing blow to one of the attackers and damaging its hide.

  "One hit, one miss," Stanton offered the play by play. He did not bother to share with Lori that only four more sidewinders remained at her husband's disposal…

  …The aliens shot through a thin band of wispy cirrus clouds, hovered for a moment, then descended at faster and faster speed. The Excalibur continued its course at an altitude of nine thousand feet. Puffs of smoke trailed behind from wounds already inflicted.

  Chancellor D'Trayne personally commanded the lead fighter and used the plans provided by President Godfrey to ensure each strike counted. And while he still respected the power of The Empire's flagship, he felt confident in victory. His supply of missile-diverting flares remained high and as long as they did not wander underneath the dreadnought only the ship's Vulcan-style Gatling guns posed any threat. A threat this pass intended to eliminate.

  Sharp beams of concentrated energy and light shot from beneath the alien vessels and drew across the port side of the battleship. Like a scalpel, those beams cut into defensive batteries causing a series of secondary explosions as ammunition caches burst.

  More trails of smoke came from the Excalibur as the Stingrays turned their backs and ascended into the heavens once more…

  …On the bridge, more alarms rang and messages flashed across Jon's screens. He fired two more sidewinders but neither found their target.

  "Jon," Stanton stood just outside the brain's tube-like station of monitors, keyboards, and touch screens. "I think we've had it. Withdraw and maybe we'll get free of this."

  Brewer ins
isted, "No! We're getting close. That's why they're here. I'm not giving up."

  "Now, well, I admire your determination but there comes a time to live to fight another day. If we can get back to the shipyards I can fix her up."

  "Bull shit," Jon answered as he watched the alien craft reach their ceiling and—for a few precious seconds—pause. "When we head back it'll be the Philipan waiting for us and Hoth will shoot us down. We must push through."

  "We can't! Those fellows are carving us up like a Thanksgiving Turkey! They know exactly where to hit us!"

  The Stingrays descended again. This time Jon did not wait. He managed a clear lock on the one already damaged and launched his last two sidewinders.

  A volley of flares deceived the first missile, but the second hit square in the Stingray's face. The alien ship fell into a flat spin. Jon watched on monitors as aerodynamic stress tore it into three silver and black chunks. Fiery debris fell into the Atlantic.

  "Splash one!"

  Before the bridge crew could cheer this victory, the remaining enemy cut its beam across the hangar doors ripping it open like a can of sardines.

  "You're out of missiles, Captain," Stanton told Jon.

  With no heat-seekers remaining and the top side boppers out of action, the Excalibur no longer possessed the means to disable the remaining Stingray as long as it remained above the ship.

  "Pull us out," Stanton repeated. "You've done a good job. No, a great job. But you've only got the belly guns and I don't think the Chancellor is going to take a peek up our skirt."

  Jon stood on the platform at the center of the bridge surrounded by advanced combat technology yet he felt helpless, like a turtle flipped on its back.

  Obviously D'Trayne had inside information on the dreadnoughts. He found it incredibly aggravating that his mighty dream could be brought to its knees by such a relatively weak foe. He understood how Goliath must have felt. Or that turtle, on its back.