Peacekeepers

by James Rosone

  He sighed. “When’s General Peterson getting here with the President?” he asked.

  “Their helicopter just touched down. They’re entering the building as we speak,” said one of the operations officers.

  “Good, keep the helicopters warmed up and make sure to alert our aviation assets that we’re going to need to start evacuating the city of key personnel.”

  A few minutes went by as the Pentagon nerve center issued a batch of orders to the commands all across the country, alerting everyone of the pending attack and warning that the COG might be implemented very shortly.

  *******

  Bursting into the room, President Jonathan Sachs made his way to the center of the table in the NMCC, flanked by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Austin Peterson, and his Secret Service detail.

  “Chuck, what the heck is going on? Are we in any immediate danger?” demanded the President.

  The Secretary of Defense sighed and then he explained the situation as they knew it up to this point. Everyone else in the room then rapidly briefed the President on what had happened in the Pacific and off the coast of Virginia Beach. They went over the signals intelligence that the NSA had acquired and what was probably headed toward the US in the next twenty to thirty minutes. When the President had been fully briefed, Chuck presented his recommendation to activate the continuity of government plan, to which the President reluctantly agreed.

  With the COG initiated, the Secret Service and the Capitol Police now had a big task at hand. It was going to be a lot of work to get the designated people relocated to a number of secured military command and control bunkers until they could reasonably ensure they were safe.

  Turning to look at his SecDef, the President remarked, “That’s it, Chuck. I’ve tried to keep things civil and bring a peaceful end to this crisis, but it’s clear that these groups—or whoever is behind all of this—are hell-bent on destroying and tearing this country apart.

  “You all briefed me on several plans to deal with this UN force a few days ago, and I agreed to them. I want you to do two things now. First, I want you to defend the country and our military forces from further acts of aggression by any and all means necessary. Second, I want that UN force destroyed. I want them either wiped out or captured. No rules with this one, Chuck. General Peterson—I want this force destroyed as swiftly as we can. Use our bomber force, hit them with cruise missiles, whatever it takes, but defend this country and repel this invasion.”

  The generals in the room all nodded in agreement. With the orders given and the President’s guidance clear, they reflexively went to work on defending the airspace of the country and preparing a decisive counterstrike against the UN forces.

  McElroy turned to look at the head of the Secret Service detail and the President. “Bill, I think you should take the President to Raven Rock and avoid Air Force One,” he suggested. “The skies are going to start filling up with aircraft and missiles, and while the air would typically be the safest place to be, it won’t be today.”

  Bill Cartwright, the head of the President’s Secret Service detail, simply nodded. He let the other Secret Service agents know the plan, and then they headed back to the helipad without delay. Site R, or Raven Rock, was a nuclear-hardened facility and the alternate Pentagon location. It wasn’t too far from D.C. by helicopter. There was also a tunnel and tram system that linked it to the presidential retreat at Camp David, should it become necessary to evacuate the complex.

  Now that the immediate decisions had been issued, the President, along with most of his senior military leaders, boarded a series of helicopters that had arrived at the Pentagon to head out to Site R, while most of the civilian side of the government would be dispersed to the Mount Weather facility and the Olney Federal Support Center, ensuring the government could continue to function even if Washington was attacked.

  Chapter 11

  First Strike

  20 Miles off the Coast of Long Island

  The sky was gray and dark, almost as if Mother Nature knew that today was a grim day—a day that would shake the world to its core. Lieutenant Colonel Jean Pégoud’s flight of four Mirage 2000D aircraft from Fighter Squadron 2/3 Champagne were doing their best to slip undetected past the numerous American warplanes taking to the air. When they’d left Bagotville an hour ago, the war had been only minutes old. Now, the sky above the United States was filling up with fighters and missiles from both sides.

  When his squadron had gone airborne, they’d broken down into six flights of four. While they sought to penetrate American airspace, the other UN squadrons looked to create as much of a distraction as possible for them. It had been hoped, at least amongst the leading UN military commanders, that if they could land a decisive blow against the American government, they could get the remaining leaders to agree to end this war before it really got out of control. If things went according to plan, this fight could be over by the end of the day. If not—well, then, it could drag on for a while longer.

  Looking at his instruments, Pégoud confirmed that his altitude continued to hover around twenty meters above the water. Before they’d gone airborne, his flight had topped off their fuel tanks from a refueler. They’d dropped to treetop levels for the high-speed race across the American border to the ocean.

  Their initial flight plan took them across wooded forests as they made their way to Portland, Maine. As they got closer to the city, they shifted further away from the developed areas as they sought to avoid being spotted by civilians. When they made it past Portland, they flew away from land and began their long flight over the North Atlantic. His flight of four planes continued to skirt the coast, staying roughly fifteen kilometers off the shore as they made their way down to Long Island, New York.

  Once they reached Long Island, they’d be in range to launch their Storm Shadow missiles at the American capital. If all went according to plan, they’d land a handful of these missiles into several high-value targets all along the East Coast. In one strike, they’d either decapitate the Sachs administration or send a powerful message to the political parties that they could be attacked, even at home.

  Forty minutes went by in relative calm. Their threat sensors hadn’t detected any enemy aircraft or targeting radars being aimed at them. They’d detected a collection of search radars looking further inland, toward the Canadian border, but they hadn’t been shifted to look out to sea. Presumably. the Americans didn’t think the UN aircraft would attack from this angle, but those pompous Yankees were about to learn the hard way that they shouldn’t underestimate the French Air Force.

  As they approached Long Island, Pégoud saw that they’d just crept into range of their missiles. His flight of four aircraft was going to attack the American Capitol Building. His second flight of four aircraft was going to target the Pentagon, his third the CIA headquarters, his fourth the NSA at Fort Meade, his fifth, two known Department of Defense buildings in Crystal City, right next to the Pentagon, and the last two missiles of that flight would target the White House. The sixth and last group was carrying the French-made MBDA Apache anti-runway cruise missiles. These four missiles were being targeted at the F-22 fighter wing that was now operating out of the old McGuire Air Force base in New Jersey. These missiles would deploy a string of cluster munitions designed to disable the runways, thereby putting a severe dent in the American Air Force’s ability to provide fighter cover for their ground forces along the Canadian border.

  Seeing that they were now in range of their missiles, Pégoud sent a quick message to his flight mates. “We’re going to fly another five minutes to get our missiles a little closer to the target before we launch. When you see me rise up to launch, follow suit. Once we release our weapons, follow me back to base on the flight plan we talked about earlier.”

  He heard three separate radio chirps, letting him know they’d heard his instructions. They were doing their best to keep their radio chatter to a minimum to reduce the likelihood of them being detected
.

  Five more minutes went by before Pégoud armed his cruise missile. He turned on its targeting computer and made sure it had established its satellite link and was ready to navigate its way to the target. Once he was satisfied that the missile was ready to fire, he pulled back on his controller, gaining enough altitude to release his weapon. The aircraft rose up; when he’d reached two hundred meters above the water, he fired his lone missile.

  He felt the weight of the missile drop from his aircraft, staying at his current altitude just long enough to see the missile’s engine ignite before it zoomed off to make history. With his missile away, he promptly dropped back down to twenty meters above the waves and turned to head back to Quebec.

  A warning flashed on Pégoud’s screen. A naval search radar had spotted them.

  Damn. That’s probably an AEGIS destroyer, he thought.

  He didn’t have much time to do anything about this new information. Less than twenty seconds later, alarm bells blared in Pégoud’s cockpit. Several missiles were headed their way. He switched on his electronic warfare pod and crossed his fingers, hoping that it would successfully jam the incoming missiles.

  “Light your afterburners and fly as close as possible to the water,” he ordered. Maybe they could get the missiles to lose them in the ground clutter.

  Another warning alerted Pégoud that the missile was now less than ten seconds to impact. He broke hard to the right and climbed in altitude as fast as his aircraft would allow. All the while, his Mirage 2000D spat out countermeasures as his defensive systems tried their best to shake and confuse the incoming missile.

  Pégoud heard a loud explosion down to his right. One of his flight mate’s planes had exploded in a spectacular fireball—he didn’t see a parachute. Without any time to process what had just happened, he banked hard to the left and dove back down toward the water.

  As he rapidly approached the water, he pulled up hard. His plane ejected a couple more countermeasures, and he felt the plane lurch forward a bit as one of the missiles that had been targeting him blew up behind him. Checking his gauges, Pégoud breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t appear that he had sustained any damage. The immediate threats to his survival were now gone, but that AEGIS system had reacquired him and fired off two more missiles in his direction.

  I don’t know if I’m going to make it out of this, he thought.

  A few more minutes went by as the American missiles tried to locate him in the clutter of the waves below and eventually flew harmlessly past his plane. When his warning alarms stopped blaring, Pégoud looked around to see how many of his comrades had made it out. Not being able to turn on his search radar meant he had to try and find them with his eyes. Eventually, he caught the glint of an aircraft off to his right and angled his plane toward it. It took him a minute, but he managed to locate his comrade. Sadly, the other two pilots appeared to have been lost.

  I sure hope this was worth it, he thought glumly. Those guys were good friends of his. In solemn silence, he and his surviving comrade began their long trek back to Canadian airspace.

  *******

  Washington, D.C.

  Capitol Building

  “What do you mean we have to evacuate the building?” demanded the newly elected Democratic Minority Leader, Jesús Perez.

  When the former Speaker of the House, Harriet Miller, had been ousted by the more radical wing of her party, Congressman Timothy Borq of New York had taken over as leader. But when he, along with forty-six other Democratic congressmen and twenty-six Republican congressmen, had fled across the border to join the Tate administration in exile, the Democrats had elected Jesús Perez of Texas to take over as their new leader. However, with that many Democrats defecting, the Republican Party had regained control of the Congress by default.

  Those that were left in Congress saw the looming possibility of a civil war, and in an uncharacteristic move for the House of Representatives, they had tried to foster a spirit of unity and cooperation. Jesús had vowed that his wing of the Democratic Party would work toward developing a peaceful solution to this political impasse, and both parties were doing their best to reach across the aisle to keep the nation from being torn apart.

  Undeterred by his new position of power, the Secret Service agent who’d just explained the evacuation to him looked at Congressman Perez with a fierce determination. “Sir, the President has initiated the continuity of government. We need to get you to the helicopter now. We’ve been given orders to fly you, along with the other members of the government, to Mount Weather.”

  Perez shook his head. That fool Sachs is going to get us all killed if this conflict doesn’t get resolved, he thought.

  “Fine, I’m coming,” he said with a huff. “Lead the way, Agent.” He grabbed his overcoat and briefcase and followed the man out into the hallway, where he saw many of the other members of Congress filing out of the building. As he neared the outer doors, Congressman Perez heard a number of helicopters approaching. Once he was outside, Perez immediately observed that there were four Chinook helicopters landing at various positions on the park. Fortunately, there was no snow on the ground to make the already chaotic scene unfolding before his eyes any worse.

  The Secret Service agent who had been escorting him lightly grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to guide him toward the closest helicopter. Dozens of congressmen and women were running like their lives depended on it to the waiting helicopters and the soldiers waving them on. Suddenly, a loud wailing sound could be heard throughout the city—D.C.’s emergency alarm system was going off. It was the same sound you’d typically hear if there was a tornado warning, only this was the middle of January.

  Abruptly, the Secret Service agent yelled at him, “Take cover!”

  The agent rushed them to the bottom of the stairs and then to the left, so they could get next to the lower wall of the promenade. Perez felt his heart race as he wondered what was going on. Then, over the roar of the helicopter rotor wash and the blaring emergency alarm, he heard the unmistakable sound of a rocket engine. As a Marine veteran who’d served in Afghanistan, that was a specific noise that he would never forget.

  A fast-moving object slammed into the side of the building where his office was located and blew up. The Secret Service agent threw him to the ground and placed his body on top of his as the ground and everything around them trembled violently from the explosion. Seconds after the first thunderous boom rocked Congressman Perez’s world, a second and then a third explosion shook their very beings.

  In the flash of a second, the agent was back up on his feet, grabbing Perez by the back of his jacket. “Run to the helicopters!” he yelled.

  Congressman Perez barely had any time to even look around, and his only overriding thought now was to get the hell out of there. Despite being tunneled in on his destination, in his peripheral vision, Perez saw that one of the helicopters had been hit by some sort of debris and had blown up. There were injured people strewn all over the place.

  I can’t do anything about that right now, he realized. Fortunately, he could see that some of the nearby soldiers were helping the wounded up and bringing them to the other helicopters that were still operational. More helicopters were flying toward them on the horizon to help with the evacuation.

  When the Secret Service agent reached the back of the Chinook, he practically threw Perez onto the helicopter. Then he ran off to go help some of the other injured congressmen. Now able to look back for the first time, the congressman saw where the three missiles had slammed into the Capitol Building, blowing out large chunks of the iconic structure. Fire, papers and debris floated back down to the ground.

  Sweet Mary…we have to get out of here before we all die, he thought in horror.

  Turning to try and find the crew chiefs, Perez saw that they were still outside the big helicopter, loading more people onto it. He made a beeline to the front of the Chinook, where the pilots were. Sticking his head into the cockpit, he yelled, “I’m the
Democratic Minority Leader. You need to get us the hell out of here before the rest of us are killed!”

  The two pilots looked at him, fear and anxiety written on their faces. The older pilot just nodded. He must have said something over his radio, because a moment later, the two crew chiefs ran back on board and the helicopter engines picked up in speed. A minute later, the Chinook lifted off, not quite full. Perez didn’t care. In that moment, he’d realized he was too important to stay there waiting for a few more people to get on board and risking the helicopter he was on getting blown up.

  When the helicopter had gained enough altitude for him to see more of the city, his heart sank. Not only had the Capitol been hit, he saw large plumes of smoke emanating from the Pentagon and two buildings over in Crystal City. When the Chinook turned around, his view changed to show the White House. Miraculously, it looked like the building had survived unscathed with the exception of what appeared to be a direct hit to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building next door. A hole in that part of the building had thick black smoke billowing out of what was now a massive charred ruin.

  Congressman Perez felt rage well up inside him as he wondered how those who’d defected could attack the country so blatantly. Senator Tate’s taken this too far, he thought in horror.

  The next sixty minutes went by in a blur and a state of shock for each of the members of Congress who had made it onto the helicopter. They had no idea how many of their fellow legislators had survived, but one thing was certain—whatever cajoling Senator Tate thought he could do to help oust President Sachs was over. The country would now rally behind the President.