Engage at Dawn: First Contact

by Edward Hochsmann

  USCGC Kauai is fictional. There is no “D Class” of the 110-foot patrol boat series, and the last of those built was USCGC Galveston Island (WPB-1349). I created a fictitious D-Class to buy some extra margin of verisimilitude and get the nit-pickers off my back. The cutters Poplar and Skua are also fictional instantiations of the Juniper-class buoy tender and Marine Protector class coastal patrol boats, respectively. The medium endurance cutters Dependable and Mohawk are real, and currently in service as of this writing.

  The mishap referred to in the story that led to Sam’s assumption of command of Kauai is another entirely fictitious plot device. That said, I think I am in agreement with most other Coast Guard veterans in asserting that, while necessary, Alien Migrant Interdiction Operations were the most heartbreaking duty I ever performed.

  The dialog between the Coast Guard people and in radio transmissions depicted in this story has much more “plain language” than what you would hear during actual operations. Including all the acronyms, jargon, and formal protocols that are vital for clarity and brevity in real life would have been more authentic. However, it would also be a great deal more tedious or confusing for the average reader. I ask all veterans and any other purists forgiveness for this compromise for the sake of readability.

  Request Your Help

  First of all, thank you for purchasing Engage at Dawn: First Contact! I know you could have picked any number of books to read, but you chose this book, and for that, I am incredibly grateful. I hope it gave you what you were seeking, be it a little extra enjoyment or just a chance to escape the trials and tribulations of life for a while. If so, it would be really helpful if you could share this book with your friends and family by posting a mention of it to Facebook and Twitter.

  If you enjoyed this story, I’d like to hear from you and hope that you could take some time to post a review on Amazon.com. Your feedback and support will help me as I work on future projects. It is my first novel, and I am very interested in hearing your thoughts. Please visit my website when you have the time to provide your feedback, find out what is new, and grab the occasional freebie:

  www.EdwardHochsmann.com.

  Very Respectfully,

  Vis Major

  Read the Alien Backstory in the Novelette Vis Major

  A sentry ship is pummeled by an unexpected solar flare and collision with one of its service drones. Unable to call for help and running out of power, the ship’s captain faces a terrible choice: risk contamination of the planet they are sworn to protect or destroy the ship and crew.

  Explore the Engage at Dawn: First Contact story from the aliens’ perspective. This story arc was originally a part of the novel but was compelling enough to stand on its own.

  Available for Kindle on Amazon.com!

  Please visit my website for details and ordering information:

  www.edwardhochsmann.com/vis-major

  Sneak Preview of Book 2

  Engage at Dawn: Seize and Destroy

  Office of the Commander, U.S. Southern Command, Doral, Florida

  0817 EDT, 4 April

  Simmons, who had been shifting nervously through the exchange, nodded. “Yes, Admiral. Having identified the alien agent, we put a close covert watch on him. There was a debate within the JUBILEE Committee about the relative merits of grabbing and interrogating him or letting him run while under observation. The latter argument won out.

  “So, shortly after the Resolution Incident, our target quit his job at a Miami tech firm, took two quick trips, and then settled into a more-or-less at home life in his house. The trips allowed us to install a tap on his phone and a sniffer on his Internet line. For the last three months, he’s just been reading every news source available online—no overt activity. Our conclusion was he had taken the lead on planet surveillance while their sentry ship was off station.

  “The status quo prevailed until about a month ago when we started picking up their drive signatures again. We have noted ten distinct pulses, which we assumed represent five round trips rather than the first ten arrivals of an invasion armada. Strangely, there was no change in our embed’s daily routine. We were still pondering how to respond to this paradox as late as yesterday morning. A very disheveled man visited our subject, and, after a few words in conversation, he violently dragged the man inside his house. That was sufficient trigger for us, and, after a few hours lining things up, a team of two DCSA agents and myself went calling.

  “Turns out the visitor was a 252 man acting as an agent for a rogue element in the alien society buying up opium and cocaine. The product was ‘transposed’ to a cargo ship in orbit, which jumped back to their economic center upon gathering a full load. They were working these transactions about once a week. One of their transshipment centers was in Afghanistan—we passed the info along to CENTCOM for follow up, although we think they’re long gone by now. The other was run out of a converted offshore utility supply vessel that was working cocaine out of Venezuela until the supply dried up, and they needed another source. This is where things get interesting.

  “According to the 252 man, he struck a deal with the Salinas Cartel for a significant on-load.” He paused as Pennington rolled his eyes. “I see you have heard of them, sir.”

  “Yes.” Pennington nodded. “They’re the new kids on the block in the Western Caribbean. What they lack in brains and organization, they make up for in arms and sadistic violence. It’s surprising the 252s would have anything to do with them.”

  “Well, this 252 guy we picked up did not strike me as one of their rocket scientists, and, true to form, the Salinas mob double-crossed them as soon as their boat pulled in to Barbello. At last report, they had killed the 252 men and were holding the vessel and crew, which includes two aliens, for ransom.”

  Pennington looked around the table. “I don’t know about you folks, but I’m having a hard time seeing a downside here. The 252s got a black eye, and the Salinas crowd is about to get an education in choosing your enemies. As far as the aliens go, well, they chose their fate. The 252s already know about them, and any Salinas guys left alive afterward are hardly likely to run to the press.”

  “Well, sir,” Simmons said. “I would agree with you. It’s hard to get worked up about 252s and Salinas killing each other. However, the problem is that the aliens installed a transportation device in the ship that works on the same principle as their jump drive. It can link up with a similar device and move pretty much anything in the blink of an eye. That’s how they were uploading their cargos to ships in orbit. Our embed friend assures me the aliens would have kept that thing disabled when not in use, but it’s there on that ship. The Salinas mob are probably ignorant of it and wouldn’t know what to do with it, anyway. But the 252s? No question of them reverse engineering that thing and then we’ll have Hell on Earth. Can you imagine the 252s moving stuff around without worries about borders or interdiction?”

  “Wait a minute,” Pennington said. “The 252s already have this thing, right? Done deal.”

  “No, sir.” Simmons shook his head. “The 252 higher-ups wanted to ‘build a relationship’ with our otherworld friends, so they let them use one of their ships for a fee without grabbing them or their stuff. Our 252 guy was trying to make a name for himself by running this op on his own. He thought it would be more efficient to move the transporter to the source—avoid our patrols and the additional payoffs, et cetera. That was an enormous mistake with the Salinas crowd. He knows this now and is singing like a canary to us, trying to stay alive. Bottom line: the 252s know all bets are off, and they’ll grab that ship back. Within a week, they’ll have enough force gathered to go in and get it, and they won’t give a damn about hostage casualties or collateral damage.”

  As Simmons paused, Pennington looked over at Miller. “General, it sounds like we need to blow that ship to Hell, sir. That’s more your lane than mine.”

  Miller shook his head. “No, Harry. Besides the foreign relations disaster of our pounding a nominally fri
endly country with an airstrike, we can’t be sure of damaging that thing beyond repair and not leaving enough for the 252s to copy. There has to be another way.”

  Pennington’s face quickly shifted to disbelief. “Sir, it sounds like you are talking about a cutting-out operation.” He looked around the table. “What do you think this is, the War of 1812? Have any of you seen the charts on Barbello? It’s impossible! Nothing we have bigger than a PB could get within half a mile of that ‘harbor,’ and their patrols of the only passage through the shoals around there are solid. They’d pick up on anything we send in before it got within a mile. Even if we could get an assault team in there without getting detected, they would get swarmed as soon as they lit off the diesels on that ship. Success would need a high-firepower assault that would be no different from an airstrike, except a lot of our people would probably get killed.”

  “And if you had an asset with stealth capability?” Miller pressed.

  Pennington scoffed, “Sir, if I had something with a low radar cross-section, that was silent, and that could tow that ship out of RPG range before the need to start its engines, it might be possible. But there’s nothing like that anywhere, much less in theater.”

  Miller turned to Brown. “Fred?”

  “Harry,” Brown began. “We have an asset available that might meet your requirements.”

  “You’re not serious!” Pennington responded.

  “I am,” Brown replied. “I’ll let Jane explain. It’s her baby.”

  “Do tell, Captain,” Pennington said warily.

  “Yes, sir,” Mercier began. “You might recall about a year and a half ago when Kauai had that mishap during the last Cuban migrant surge?”

  “Yes, her CO and XO were relieved for cause.”

  “Well, the CO was. The XO went out on a medical because of injuries during the mishap. We thought about bumping up her scheduled decommissioning a couple of years. But the hull was in good shape, and she had the new gun the FRCs are getting, so we hung on to her. We identified some solid command cadre and rushed them on board. Things were turning around nicely, so we tried out an experimental special ops capability. If it didn’t work out, no harm, no foul. So, we stacked the deck with the crew and ended up with a very smart unit.

  “It was pure luck, Kauai being the one to find that wreck. If it had been anyone else, we would have gotten her underway to take over. Anyway, there were about a dozen ways that crew could have fouled up on that alien hunt, but they performed perfectly. The officers, in particular, carried off some brilliant and gutsy moves.”

  “I’ll second that Admiral, if you’ll excuse the interruption, Captain,” Simmons pitched in. “I was there throughout the mission, and I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for them. No one could have done that one better.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Mercier resumed. “The JUBILEE Committee agreed and invested about $50 million on upgrades to move Kauai from a Proof of Concept to a standing special operations capability. We rushed her through a yard period that replaced her main plant with electric motors, high capacity generators, and battery bank using the new Lithium-ion batteries the Japanese are using in their latest Soryu-class subs. She’s good for two hours at 20 knots with no sound besides the props. We also upgraded the bridge and sensors, added composite armor resistant up to .50 caliber and cut her radar cross section to about what you’d see on a Response Boat, Small.”

  Pennington was incredulous. “How did you manage that?”

  “Mainly coatings, sir, but we also replaced the mast with a raked composite design.”

  “And she’s available now?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s just finishing workups and fine-tuning at AUTEC. I can get her moving this morning, and she can be off Barbello within 60 hours.”

  “What about the crew? We’re talking about close combat, even if everything goes right."

  “We’ll get a SEAL team to handle the assault,” Miller interjected. “Kauai will deliver them, then do the tow out of range.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mercier continued. “Plus, we put the XO, BM1, BM2, and GM2 through the assault team course at Quantico while Kauai was in the shipyard. Whoever we send over can look after themselves and do the ship-handling on the target vessel while the SEALs do the heavy lift neutralizing the opposition.”

  “Sounds like you have this all figured out,” Pennington said with resignation. “Why do you need me?”

  “They’ll be CHOP-ed to JIATF-South, Harry,” Miller said. “Barbello is a Law Enforcement concern. DoD has next to nothing on the Salinas Cartel or Barbello. We need you to work your DEA and Customs people to provide the Intel prep.”

  “What about our Honduran Liaison? Do I bring him in on this?” Pennington asked.

  Miller shook his head. “Absolutely not. No foreign nationals are to have even a hint that this op is going on and keep it down to the absolute minimum among our guys—no mention of JUBILEE or aliens outside of this room. As far as everyone else is concerned, that ship is carrying an unspecified weapon of mass destruction. If you feel the need to move the op out of your HQ, Fred assures me Sector Key West can fix you up.”

  Pennington said, “OK, sir. Now, other than this wonder boat, what can you give me?”

  Miller nodded. “We’ll have 24-hour RQ-4 coverage and one Rivet Joint sortie monitoring emissions each night until the assault to generate a pattern of life. For the op itself, we’ll have the RJ, an MQ-9 for EO/IR, and a SEAL team for the actual assault—they’ll be flying into Key West this afternoon to meet with your staff to work out the plan. If they go in with Kauai, they can board when she’s topping off in Key West. Otherwise, they can launch from there.”

  “Any chance of Naval support, sir?” Pennington asked. “I lost my last DDG about a week ago.”

  “Sorry, no joy,” Miller replied sadly. “What’s your situation with the white hulls?”

  “Three two-seventies and one two-ten are in theater. One of the two-seventies has a HITRON bird, so I’ll move her in to support. Not much help compared to a DDG, but it’s something.” Pennington smiled ruefully. “While we are on the subject, sir, where are we supposed to sail this thing, assuming we can cut her out?”

  “An interesting question. Over to you, Jenn,” Miller said, looking at Irving.

  “Admiral, your orders are to sail her north past the five-hundred-fathom line of the Cayman Trench and then scuttle her,” Irving said.

  “What?” Pennington said in astonishment.

  “This comes straight from POTUS,” Irving continued. “With everything else going on, he doesn’t want that boat turned into a cause célèbre. That location’s deep enough so that no one can get at her or what’s onboard without a major, obvious effort. Hopefully, we can drop her at night before anyone gets any pictures.”

  “We are just going to ditch that tech?” Pennington sputtered.

  Irving nodded. “Admiral, this is something we wouldn’t dare use or even study. The costs of keeping it secret are immense, and the consequences, if it got loose, are unthinkable. Far better to be rid of it. With luck, maybe Dr. Simmons’s alien pals will sneak in when we aren’t looking and grab it back.”

  Coming June 2021!

  About The Author

  Edward M. Hochsmann

  Edward Hochsmann is a retired U. S. Coast Guard search and rescue and law enforcement professional and author of the new sci-fi action-adventure novel Engage at Dawn: First Contact. The veteran mariner, aviator, college professor, and defense analyst has added “author” to his list of experiences. Ed likes reading, police procedurals, contemporary music on the road, and classical music in the office. After a career traveling from Australia in the west to Italy and Germany in the east, Ed has settled into a quiet life in the Florida Panhandle to focus on writing (and not shoveling snow!)

 

 

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