Peacekeepers

by James Rosone

  As they stopped in front of the elevator, he allowed some of his questions to spill out. “Where’s the President? What’s going on?” he demanded.

  The door dinged, letting them know the elevator had arrived. The group piled into the elevator. It wouldn’t be coming back up once they got to the bunker. They’d seal it off from the rest of the building and go into lockdown.

  Turning to look at the Vice President, Rick, his head Secret Service agent, replied, “We received an urgent message from NORAD. Sixteen cruise missiles are headed to the D.C. area. They believe one or more of them are headed to the White House. The President’s being evacuated right now with the rest of the senior leadership at the Pentagon to Site R.”

  “My God,” he uttered, in a way that sort of seemed like a half-prayer. “Has everyone lost their minds? An attack on D.C.? You can’t be serious.”

  Rick’s normally stoic face betrayed some of his own personal anxiety at the situation. Vice President Powers suddenly remembered that the man before him had a wife and kids that lived in Arlington. Rick swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid this isn’t a drill, sir,” he answered. “It’s probably a decapitation strike. We’re fortunate NORAD was able to spot the missiles before they hit the city. They could have killed you or the President.”

  The door to the elevator opened and the agents in front of them stepped forward. Rick gently grabbed him by the arm and guided them out of the elevator toward the next set of doors. They walked through the massive blast doors and then stopped. One of the agents used a key on the elevator, keeping the door open and the elevator trapped down here with them. This way, no one else could use it to get down to them.

  With that security measure complete, another agent entered a passcode and the large blast door behind them began to close. When the door was shut, the locking cylinders built into the massive door expanded out into their steel-reinforced holes as the hydraulic pressure behind the cylinders made sure they would stay locked in place. They were now sealed off from the rest of the world, and unless the White House took a direct hit from a massive nuclear weapon or a specially designed bunker-buster bomb, nothing was going to harm them.

  They made their way down the hallway into a small command room that had a long boardroom-style table and chairs. The place was already bustling with staffers and military personnel who would operate the vice-presidential command post, ready to fill in should the President be taken offline or become incapacitated.

  By the time Luke Powers took his seat at the head of the table, the military members already had the wall-mounted monitors up and running for a secured video teleconference. One screen was dedicated to United States Northern Command at NORAD, another displayed the National Military Command Center in the Pentagon, a third showed the alternate command post at Site R or Raven Rock, a fourth showed the congressional bunker at Mount Weather, and the final screen displayed the United States Strategic Command at Offutt Air Force Base in Nebraska.

  Unmuting his speaker button, the Vice President spoke. “General Pruitt—what’s the status of the President, and what’s the status of the attack headed to D.C.?”

  A flurry of activity could be seen on the monitor in the NMCC where General Pruitt was. He was clearly issuing orders to other people in the room before he returned his gaze to the Vice President and pushed the button to speak. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vice President,” he apologized. “We’re trying to get the building here evacuated, or at least get as many of our folks down to the bunker as possible. Could you repeat your question?” he asked. There was a lot of noise in the background, as well as a sense of organized chaos.

  Powers nodded. He knew the man must be just as nervous as he was, and Pruitt wasn’t sitting in nearly as hardened of a facility as the PEOC.

  “General, where is the President, and how long until these cruise missiles hit the city?”

  “We’ve evacuated the President to Raven Rock. He’s on Marine One as we speak. As to the cruise missiles, they should start to arrive in”—he looked off-screen at something—“six minutes, give or take.”

  Please, Lord, protect us and protect this city, he prayed silently.

  “Do we have anything that can intercept them?” Powers asked.

  General Pruitt nodded. “We have two aircraft out of Langley moving into position to attack them now, plus the White House has four anti-air missiles. They’ll attempt to engage whatever missiles are directed at your position, sir.”

  For a few tense minutes, they listened in as someone patched them into the radios of the pilots that were going to attempt to intercept the missiles. They could hear the pilots curse—the group of missiles they had been vectored to only had four of the sixteen that were headed to the city.

  One of the pilots radioed that he had just fired off two of his AIM-9X Block II Sidewinder missiles. Thirty seconds went by before the pilot whooped over the radio. “Splash one…splash two. I say again, two enemy missiles down.”

  The other pilot had likewise fired off two of his own missiles. One missed, the other scored a hit.

  Before any of them could celebrate, General Pruitt came over the video feed. “Prepare for impact!” he shouted.

  Above the White House, all four of the Sidewinder missiles mounted to a launcher on the top of the building fired off at the incoming threats. They all missed. The incoming enemy missiles were now flying at their terminal velocity, which meant the room for error was so minute, the Sidewinders never had a real chance at hitting them.

  While Vice President Powers couldn’t hear or feel any impacts of the cruise missiles or the destruction of any of them happening outside the bunker, he did see the computer screen briefly shake and hear a thunderous explosion through the Pentagon’s video monitor. The screen then went blank, followed by a “no signal” code.

  “We just lost contact with the Pentagon, sir,” announced one of the communications officers.

  Turning around, the Vice President yelled, “Get us a video feed of what’s going on outside! I need to see what the city looks like.”

  “Mr. Vice President, we just received a message from the command post at Raven Rock. The helicopters evacuating some of the Pentagon personnel…several enemy fighters jumped them,” an Army colonel announced. “Marine One was able to escape and they’ve set down at Camp David. They’re going to move the President to the bunker via the tunnel at the retreat.”

  Vice President Powers was in a state of shock and bewilderment at the news. Everyone else in the room shared a nervous glance with each other before they all involuntarily stared at Powers. If the President became incapacitated or was killed, he’d have to step in and assume control of the government and the military.

  Trying to shake off the implications of what the colonel had just said, Vice President Powers looked at the screen at NORAD with General Tibbets and pressed his talk button. “General, at the moment, we can’t control what’s happening at Raven Rock. I need to know what we’re doing to respond to this attack.”

  General Tibbets, for his part, looked a bit frazzled. “Mr. Vice President, we’re tracking multiple cruise missile attacks originating out of the Gulf of Mexico, directed at some of our military bases in Florida, Louisiana, Alabama and Texas. We have two cruise missile attacks originating in the Atlantic, headed toward our naval base in Jacksonville and Norfolk, and four additional attacks coming from the Pacific. Right now, we’re just trying to get as many of our aircraft airborne and out of harm’s way as possible. We’ll start to respond to the threats as we get more of our fighters armed and airborne.”

  Sensing that his questions were only slowing the man down, Powers said, “I understand, General. Please keep us advised if anything changes or if you need me. I’ll try to stay out of your hair while you get things organized.”

  The general gave a polite smile and then moved off camera, presumably to shout more orders and collect more information.

  Looking at the men and women around him, the Vice President
said, “I guess we just hang tight and wait.”

  One of the Air Force colonels was on the phone, talking to someone. Judging by the look on Colonel Brian Nagy’s face, he was not happy with what he was hearing. Trying to overhear the conversation, the Vice President snapped once to get the attention of a couple of other folks nearby, then held his index finger to his lips.

  “Are you certain it can’t be something else?” Colonel Nagy asked desperately. There was a pause. “What about the Russian bombers? Where are they headed?”

  Luke raised an eyebrow when he heard the words “Russian bombers,” and so did a few others at the table.

  Colonel Nagy suddenly realized everyone at the table, including the Vice President, had stopped talking and was now staring at him, listening to the one-sided conversation. “Hang on, Ryan. I’ve got an audience here in the room with me, so I’m going to put you on speakerphone.” He hit the appropriate button, then placed the phone back in the cradle.

  “Who all is in the room with you, Brian?” the voice on the other end asked defensively. “I need to make sure they have the proper clearance before we continue.”

  Raising his voice to be heard from the other end of the table, the VP announced, “This is Vice President Luke Powers. We’re in the PEOC under the White House. Everyone in this room has a Yankee White clearance. Identify yourself and speak.”

  “I, um…yes, Mr. Vice President. I’m Ryan Montana from the National Reconnaissance Office. I was telling Colonel Nagy that we believe the Chinese Air Force moved their H-20 stealth bombers to the Canadian Forces Base at Cold Lake. I believe the Chinese are going to try and use those stealth bombers to hit Mount Weather and Raven Rock.”

  That last comment got everyone’s attention, especially the Secret Service. They had just evacuated the President to Raven Rock, and with the COG now in full effect, most of the congressional leaders were either at Mount Weather, or they were nearly there.

  Leaning forward in his chair, VP Powers asked, “Why do you believe that, and have you told anyone else this yet?”

  “We’ve passed the information over to NORAD so they can try and figure out what to do with it. As to why my colleagues and I believe that—well, it only makes sense. The UN is trying to remove President Sachs and yourself. The elements of our government that support Senator Tate have already fled to Canada, and the senator has already set up a government in exile. The fastest and easiest way for the UN to install Senator Tate is to eliminate any political opposition he’d face in assuming control of the government in D.C.”

  Ryan quickly added, “Before you think I’m crazy, please hear me out. When the UN launched a cruise missile attack on Washington, they didn’t just try to hit the Pentagon or the White House. They specifically went after the Capitol Building and the congressional office buildings. They wouldn’t do that if they weren’t intentionally trying to kill congressional leaders. As to Mount Weather and Raven Rock—they know that when we institute the continuity of government plan, we’d evacuate the capital. They know we’d send the congressional leaders to Mount Weather and the military leaders to Raven Rock. If they could carry out a successful strike on those two facilities after we’ve initiated the COG, they could wipe out the military and political leadership of the government. It would make it that much easier for Senator Tate and his cohort to assume power.”

  “My God, what have we done?” murmured the Vice President.

  Rick, the VP’s lead Secret Service agent, interjected, “Sir, we sent some of the congressional leaders to the Olney Federal Support Center, just outside the capital. Another group of senators was dispatched down to our other facility in central Virginia, so they aren’t all going to be at Mount Weather, if it really is going to be attacked.”

  The VP let out a breath hastily, at least somewhat relieved. If anyone knew where they had sent the congressional leaders, it would have been Rick.

  While they were talking, the video feed to Site R came alive. “Mr. Vice President, we’ve just received word from Camp David. The facility there is under ground attack by a hostile force. We don’t have a lot of information at the moment other than that they’re requesting any QRF in the area to assist them. General Tibbets at NORAD is on it and assures us that additional forces are on the way to the camp. However, we need you to be ready to take over command, in case the President doesn’t make it to the tunnel that’ll take him to us.”

  Powers looked at the man on the monitor, not sure if this was some sort of joke.

  How could things be going so wrong for them right now? he wondered.

  He turned to look at Rick, who, upon hearing the news, had picked up a landline to place a call. A few seconds later, he nodded at the VP, letting him know the President’s detail was indeed under attack.

  Looking back at the NORAD monitor, Powers said, “General Tibbets, I know you’re a busy man, but we just spoke with an individual at the NRO. He told us there’s a high probability that the Chinese have one or more H-20 stealth bombers flying out of Cold Lake. He said the Russians and Chinese bombers may be trying to carry out a decapitation strike against our elected officials and military leaders. Is there any truth to that?”

  Tibbets paused what he was doing for a moment. “General Estrada, please brief the VP on what’s going on and what we’re doing. I need to handle something,” he said. Then he walked off the screen.

  If they weren’t in the middle of an unprecedented disaster unfolding before his eyes, Powers might have been pretty put off and probably would have ordered the general to stand fast and brief him, but he knew Tibbets was probably trying to organize some sort of defense of the nation, so he cut him some slack.

  A brigadier general appeared in the seat where Tibbets had just been. “Excuse us, Mr. Vice President,” he said apologetically. “We’re trying to put out fires all over the battlespace. We haven’t even dealt with the ground situation yet as we’re trying to make sure our Air Force doesn’t get wiped out on the ground.”

  My God—is the situation really this bad? Powers thought, practically unable to breathe from the strain of the circumstances.

  “Can you answer our question about what the NRO told us?” the VP managed to say.

  “Yes, sir. They’re right about the bombers. We’re tracking six Blackjack bombers that broke through our air perimeter less than ten minutes ago. We have faint blips of what we believe to be four Chinese H-20 bombers that just started appearing on our radars probably fifteen minutes ago.”

  “What?! Where are they headed and what are we doing to shoot them down?” demanded the Vice President, growing more and more exasperated with each passing minute.

  “We just scrambled the Looking Glass and the TACAMOs in case these bombers are delivering a nuclear first strike. General Tibbets has already moved us to DEFCON Two. We’re following procedures on this one. We sent a message to the Russians and to General McKenzie that if a nuclear detonation is confirmed on US soil, we will retaliate.”

  “Whoa—full stop, General. No one has issued authorization for nuclear weapons unless the President says so, or if he’s incapacitated, then it needs to come from me. Is that understood?” demanded the Vice President angrily. He wanted to make sure the generals at NORAD knew there was still a leash on them.

  “Yes, Mr. Vice President,” answered General Estrada, in a tone that suggested he had his tail between his legs. “I didn’t mean to imply that NORAD would authorize a strike. We needed to make sure that the aggressors in this situation know that we are ready to deploy our nuclear weapons if needed.”

  “Very well,” Powers responded, much more calmly. “Where are these bombers headed, and what are you doing to shoot them down?”

  General Estrada nodded. “Two of the Blackjacks are headed for this facility as we speak. We’ve scrambled a squadron of F-22s to go hunt them down. I’m fairly confident the Raptors will find them and take ’em out before they get in range of any weapons they planned on using. Unless they were going to hit
us with a nuke, there isn’t much that’s going to put a dent in the mountain here. Two other Blackjacks are actually flying out of Cuba and heading for Eglin Air Force base. We’re a little more concerned about stopping them, since most of our fighters are located along the northern border. I’ll have more for you in about twenty minutes. The third set of Blackjacks is headed to Offutt Air Force Base. It would appear the Russians’ main goal is to disrupt our command and control capability. It’s very standard to the old Soviet playbook, so we believe we’re ready to deal with it.

  “As to the Chinese H-20s—we’re not one hundred percent sure where they’re headed just yet. Our last blip showed them passing over Pennsylvania. Again, we have some F-35s being vectored to their last known positions to try and see if they can’t pick up the scent. There’s a chance they’ll find them as they get closer to them. The H-20s may be stealthy, but they aren’t invisible.”

  Suddenly, Powers heard a lot of commotion over the video feed of General Estrada. Not sure what was going on, the VP looked at the other video feeds and abruptly noticed the one from Raven Rock had gone black and was displaying only the words “No signal,” just like the one from the Pentagon.

  “What’s going on, General?” Powers asked.

  Estrada was looking off camera at something, alarm Klaxons blaring in the background. Powers heard several people gasp, followed by a series of angry shouts. He could have sworn he heard someone use the word nuked.

  “General, what’s going on? We just lost the video feed to Raven Rock!” shouted the Vice President.

  Returning his gaze to the video screen, an ashen-faced General Estrada replied, “Sir, we’re trying to get confirmation, but right now, it would appear Raven Rock was just taken out.”

  The Vice President couldn’t say anything for a moment. He realized his jaw had swung wide open in shock, and he snapped his mouth closed. “What do you mean it was taken out? That’s a hardened bunker,” he demanded.

  There was a brief pause as Estrada conferred with people around him. “We’re trying to get verification, sir, but the satellites are telling us the facility was just hit by what we can only describe as four tactical nuclear weapons.”