Eden's War (A Distant Eden) (3 page)

Chapter 4

B
ack at the kitchen table, Adrian and the Admiral were once again seated along with Matt, Perry, Roman and Tim. Sarah and Linda had also joined them.

Adrian said, “I have an idea, but I have to put it into perspective for it to make sense, so bear with me a bit. When the solar storm wiped out the world’s electricity grids, civilization as we knew it went down the tubes over-night. We had become too dependent on a vulnerable electric supply system. Everything depended on electricity, and to top that off our food supply and distribution system was too centralized… food had to be shipped from distant places on a daily basis. When that was interrupted mass starvation quickly followed.

“Third world countries fared better than we did – many of them were basically unaffected. Then there’s China – halfway between a third world and first world country, their population almost evenly split between agriculture and industrial. When the gird dropped, the Chinese government forced everyone out of the cities, out onto the farms. It was hard, but it worked and most of their citizens survived… they didn’t face the famine we did.”

Adrian stood up and began slowly pacing the room as he talked. “As soon as they were stabilized they began bringing select people back to the cities. Engineers and skilled workers, and thousands of trainees. They began rebuilding their electric infrastructure, and as each area was powered up they brought factories back on line. They concentrated on the areas that would do the most good for them… including the shipyards. The major constraint for them has been fuel for their power plants. They were a net fuel importer before the grid dropped, and quickly reached growth capacity based on their own internal resources. To continue their progress they need more fuel. Primarily they need refined oil.”

Adrian sat down again. “They took over all the oil fields they could reach – the off-shore oil platforms were the easiest to take – but they weren’t nearly enough. They also have a shortage of refineries to turn crude oil into fuels. The obvious solution for them is to look at us… thousands of sources of oil, thousands of miles of pipelines, hundreds of refineries… a greatly weakened Navy… and no centralized government running the show. Pretty much all they have to do is show up and take over, then they can send refined fuels back to the homeland as fast as they can load the tankers and turn them around.

“Their Navy is no match for our Navy, even under these circumstances. We have superior weaponry. On their side though, they can resupply their armaments and we can’t. Once we’ve depleted our supply of munitions, we’re helpless and they can shoot us out of the water at will. But first they have to get us to shoot until we run dry, and shoot at targets other than their Navy. They have amassed a huge armada of commercial ships, and have virtually unlimited manpower to put on those ships. I believe that what they are going to do is load up all of those commercial ships with as many soldiers as each ship can carry, launch them all at us, at both coast lines, and spread them out as far apart as they can in the process.

“They know that we can’t afford to let those ships land and deploy their soldiers onto our shores. They believe we’ll use up our munitions stopping that invasion. It’s a war of attrition – they’ll sacrifice as many ships and men as it takes to force us to deplete our fighting ability. Then their Navy moves in and destroys our Navy. Once our Navy is destroyed we’ve lost the war and they can land and take over any place they want to. Not only will this give them access to all the fuel they want, it also gives them a base to launch attacks on the rest of this hemisphere. It’s a simple plan, one that can’t fail for them. Their only true gamble in this is whether we will launch nuclear weapons against them. My guess is that once the ships are launched and on the way they’ll contact us with some kind of bargain. But it won’t be a bargain they intend to keep.

“So, our only chance of maintaining our independence and our resources, is to win this war without using either our naval munitions or nuclear weapons. We have to win it with an unconventional approach. Think along the lines of how guerilla warfare against a large conventional military works. That’s the approach I’ve been thinking of.”

The Admiral interrupted. “But… how? We’re not talking about a situation where hit-and-run tactics will make any difference. They are already willing to sacrifice as many of their ships and men as it takes. They’ll just keep coming and overwhelm us with numbers.”

“You’re almost right Admiral… almost.” Adrian replied. He stood and began pacing again. “These sacrifice ships are commercial ships. They are not heavily armored, hell they’re not armored at all. They are fragile. They might mount some defensive weapons on them, but it won’t be much… and if my plan works it won’t matter what they can shoot. We’re going to come at them in a way they don’t expect, and will be hard-pressed to defend against…which will leave our Navy fully prepared and waiting for their Navy… assuming they don’t recall their Navy before we can get at them.”

Adrian stepped up to the table and unrolled the drawing that Matt had made earlier that day, placing cups at the corners to keep it from rolling back up. “Take a look at this Admiral.”

The Admiral removed a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket, put them on, and began studying the simple drawing. After a moment he said, “I see what you’ve drawn, but I don’t follow what you’re thinking.”

“Guerilla warfare on the open seas Admiral. What you’re looking at is a representation of a typical outboard-powered small pleasure boat. About eighteen feet of boat driven by a one-hundred horsepower outboard engine. At the front of the boat is an improvised explosive device, made from one of the hundreds-of-thousands of field artillery rounds in warehouses around the country. Could be about any size round, but I’m thinking about a 120mm round set to explode on contact. Fill the rest of the boat with explosives, and send it like a missile against a commercial ship. We’d control it by a radio remote control, like radio-controlled airplanes.

“There must be a million of these small craft up and down our shores. The radio control systems are easy to make and to operate. We also have thousands of commercial and fishing ships available. Get those ships operational, including their radars, load each ship with as many of these radio controlled artillery shell boats as it can hold, and sail forth. Using the radar, locate and close in on the Chinese craft… get within visual range and launch one or two of these boats. Then steer the boats into the Chinese ship by remote control and make a big hole in it. Aiming at the rudder would be the best… even if the ship doesn’t sink, it will be foundered where it floats.”

Adrian was again pacing the room while everyone stared at him, listening intently. “If we can get enough of these in action soon enough, we can do serious damage, maybe even stop the invasion at sea without using up our munitions in the process. The challenge isn’t whether or not this will work; the challenge is getting enough boats on the water loaded with these radio controlled boats in time to get the job done.” Adrian sat back down, waiting for the reaction.

“Damn.” The Admiral said quietly. Then he began to smile. Then he laughed. “Damn. Adrian its genius! It’s pure, bloody genius. You’re right, those ships are not built to withstand a direct explosion. Just one or two hits can sink most of them, and hitting them in the rudder even makes sinking them unnecessary, although I think that would sink most of them anyway. Damn! We can sink them all without losing one of our own in the process.” Then, more soberly the Admiral said “You’re also right about the challenge though. Getting enough of these made, all up and down the coast, is going to be the real challenge here. How do you think we’re going to do that?”

Adrian replied, “We set up six locations on each coast where boats can be quickly retrofitted. We send out by runner a set of code keys that are to be distributed by hand across the country as fast as possible. I’ll come back to that in a minute. When we have the code keys distributed – and that has to happen very fast – we’ll broadcast by ham radio across the country, in code, the entire story of what we’re up against. The full story, the full set of choices. We ask for help from all former Americans to get to the shore, gather up as many boats as they can, and take them to their closest retrofit location. Others are to break into warehouses to get the materials to multiple locations that we’ll identify. We’ll send trucks or helicopters to gather the materials at those collection points, and take them to the nearest retrofit location.”

Adrian paused for a long moment. “The key is to mobilize every able-bodied person in this country. We have to depend on their judgment that our assessment and response are correct. If they believe us, if we don’t keep any secrets about this operation, we just might pull it off. First we have to reach them in code. We have to move so fast that if the Chinese break the code it won’t matter,” Adrian stood without realizing it. “We have to put these boats together and get them out there and hit the invasion fleet before the Chinese can figure out what happened. If they figure it out too soon, they’ll figure out a defense, and the whole game will change – and not in our favor.”

Linda saw the raw intensity of Adrian at that moment.
His body is as rigid as iron, muscles popping like he’s in a hard workout. He’s on a mission now, a full-out, no holds barred, kill-the-enemy-right-now, mission. He has his plan in mind and is launching it, right here, right now. My God, that intensity is chilling, I wouldn’t want to be a Chinese out there on that ocean… they’re already dead. And he is going to pull this nation together in a way that none of us could ever have imagined.

Adrian looked at Linda, he could see what she was thinking as clear as day. He gave her a little smile, then turned back to the table.

“Here’s the detailed plan.” Adrian unrolled a large scale highway map of the former United States.

Chapter 5

R
ace saddled her horse and slung her gear over the back of the saddle. She picked up the rifle leaning on the corral rail and shoved it tightly into the leather scabbard that had been specifically designed for it. She double checked the saddle bag full of code sheets, each printed on waterproof paper. The bag also contained a map showing the known locations of ham operators in her assigned area. Having already said her goodbyes, she effortlessly lifted herself into the saddle, and hit the horse’s flanks with her heels. It took off at a fast trot, Bear loping along behind.

This horse’s peculiar trot was jarring for the rider, but natural to the horse, and was a pace she knew the horse could keep up all day. Race knew what to do: she fully relaxed all the muscles in her body not actually needed for keeping her in the saddle, and semi-relaxed all of the muscles she did need. It took practice to do that, a certain kind of posture in the saddle, the posture seen in old paintings of cowboys at work. A slumping kind of look. A casual, yet athletic pose. When the rider is seen in motion, the watcher would see that the rider never seemed to be moving yet the horse was all over the place. The rider relaxed into the stride, anticipating each move before it arrived, adjusted for it and rode it out smooth, using the least amount of energy possible. Muscles that flowed with the motion did not tire at anything like the pace of muscles that are stiff and resisting. Race rode easy in the saddle, which would have been high praise from the old cowboys.

“First a Ranger, and now Pony Express rider.” She ruminated on the past three day’s events as she rode. The night of Adrian’s meeting with the Admiral she was roused from her bed and told to assemble the Rangers that were at hand, and summon all other Rangers back to base, from wherever they were, whatever they were doing.

“Tell them to drop whatever they are doing and return immediately as fast as possible.” The messenger nearly glowed with an electric excitement. “We’re going to war, and it starts right now. We’re already behind, and we have to move. You’ll get a full briefing as soon as you’re assembled.”

Adrian briefed them himself, in full. “…alright, now you know the big picture. You’re going to play what is possibly the most vital part of the whole operation: getting those code keys spread as fast as you possibly can.”

The growl of the Admiral’s helicopter interrupted Adrian for a moment as it lifted off and quickly turned south-east towards Corpus Christi, taking him back to his aircraft carrier.

Adrian resumed, “You’ll be given individual maps that show where to find ham operators in your area. You’ll be provided sets of documents to disburse. The first document is a written briefing just as I gave you; it will be in plain English. It will not describe our preemptive battle plan. The second sheet is the code key and the instructions for using it. The Admiral has gone to get those created for you and will be back in less than two days. Believe me he’s burning up his radio right now issuing instructions.”

Adrian paused and looked at each Ranger directly, giving each a full three seconds of pure attention. He was looking them over, but mostly checking their eyes, he wanted to make sure each and every one was getting the message. He saw young eyes, intense eyes, intelligent eyes. Young faces filled with a sudden intensity of purpose. He knew he was seeing the future, and it humbled him, he felt ancient in front of these young men and women, even though he had only twenty years on them. “You’ll ask each ham operator to check your map and fill in any missed locations. Also advise them to maintain radio silence on this and wait for the initiating broadcast from the war’s headquarters, the Admiral’s ship, at exactly midnight four days from now. This will all be explained in the briefing document, but remind them again to not discuss it over the air. Face-to-face though… they need to recruit runners and spread the message as far and wide as possible, but only by word of mouth. They have to tell everyone they can what’s happening. .”

Adrian paused again to gather his thoughts. The Rangers didn’t move, didn’t speak. They were rigid with fascination.

“You won’t have reached many operators before our initial broadcast, so you’ll have to keep going as fast as you can and distribute the documents to every station on your map. When you’re finished return as fast as you can for your next assignment. Speed is everything. Speed is the only defense we have right now. Every second you save counts, and counts a hell of a lot. You won’t be able to stay more than half an hour at any station, you have to keep moving. I cannot stress enough that speed is our only chance. Speed is the imperative.”

He paused to let the message sink in. For a moment the only sounds were those of crickets and the frogs in the nearby creek.

“Start seeing to your gear. As soon as you get your map study it until you have your locations memorized. If you lose the map you have to be able to keep going. Memorize your map and know it like you know your own home. We’re going to use every vehicle we have in this, and all of the horses. You’ll each be on your own when you leave. Double check your vehicles for maintenance issues and correct them. Load up with the tools and spare parts you’re most likely to need. Tend to your horses, feed them up the next three days, exercise them gently, they’re about to get a world-class workout. When the documents arrive I want all of you out of here in ten minutes. Dismissed!”

“Yep.”
Race thought to herself.
“Hell of a way to wake up.”

Strapped around Race’s thin waist and tied to her right thigh was an old style six-shooter. As she rode, Race recalled how she had come across it at a barter shop and had become entranced with its simple but elegant design, and its possibilities. She paid dearly for the gun, holster and belt, two boxes of shells, a die for casting bullets, and a portable reloading kit that had been made in the pre-grid days. As long as she could find primers, powder, and lead she could keep a good supply of bullets on hand.

The pistol was a reproduction of Colt’s 1878, double stage, .45 caliber, popularly known as the Peacemaker. Rugged, reliable, simple to maintain, and exceedingly deadly against humans at close range. It had the virtue of firing each time the trigger was drawn back. Every time. It was up to the operator to count the shots though, and Race always counted her shots. When she looked at the pistol in the barter shop she recognized its value as a close quarter’s weapon. She Race often confronted men twice her size and twice her strength. She worked hard to keep confrontations at a distance that nullified their advantages of size and strength, but it didn’t always happen that way. Her go-to close in weapon had been a knife, and when she was at arm’s length, the knife was still her first choice. But at an intermediate range, a knife was useless. In certain situations there was no better weapon than a pistol that could be rapidly put into action, and the reproduction Colt 1878, double stage, .45 caliber, Peacemaker was rugged, reliable, simple to maintain, and exceedingly deadly at close range.

Race was about to have another need to use it.

After she had obtained the pistol she fired it six times as fast as she could, and then took it immediately to Matt. “I need to have this worked on Matt. It’s stiff and has a hard trigger pull. I want to be able to draw it fast and shoot slick as owl snot.”

Silently, but with a small smile, Matt took the pistol in his large hand. Removing the shells he dry fired it three times. “Yeah, it is a bit sticky. You run and fetch Tim, I’ll need his advice, he knows all about these old guns. He used to be in quick draw contests with these things, way back in the day. He’ll be able to teach you how to fast draw, set your holster up right, that sort of thing.” It never occurred to Matt to question why a young woman would feel the need to be able to draw fast – the world had changed, and the survivor’s mindset had followed, at times even predicted, that world.

Tim said, “Very nice work. Excellent condition. Impeccable design. You probably couldn’t have chosen a better and more time proven weapon. It has speed, six opportunities, accurate within its intended range, and tons of stopping power. Set this up correctly and learn how to use it correctly and I’d put you against any other pistol and rig out there.” Tim explained to Matt and Race how to adjust the pistol, how to get the smoothest operation on the trigger, and about buffing all moving parts to a better than mirror finish. “It’s not a finicky weapon, but the friction between moving parts must be at an absolute minimum for speed shooting.”

“Also file off that front sight, it’s never used in speed shooting and can get caught on things. Shave the top first inch of the barrel just a hair, tapering the end of the top of the barrel, gives just a whisker of a faster draw as the barrel clears the holster. You’ll have to rework these grips…these are too large for Race’s hand. Sand them down to fit her hand perfectly. There are a lot of hours of work involved here, but the results will be worth every bit of it. When you’re finished, give me the gun and the rig. I’ll modify the belt and holster. I’ll bone in the holster to the pistol, cut down the front of the holster as much as possible and position the holster properly on the belt. Race, when we’re done you won’t believe the difference… it’s as though we’re changing a Volkswagen into a Ferrari. Once everything is together I’ll teach you the basics, then the advanced techniques. You’re going to be a walking death machine.”

“That’s the idea.” Race replied. “That’s exactly the idea, and I appreciate the hell out of both of you for this.”

“Aw, you’re like a daughter to us – well a granddaughter to that old codger.” Matt replied while hooking a thumb towards Tim.

“Exactly like a granddaughter.” Tim replied with a genuine smile.

Race wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotion those words caused to whirl around in her head. Rarely caught speechless, she quickly hugged each of the men and then almost ran off in her sudden embarrassment. She was overwhelmed.

A sudden change in the horses gait brought Race’s attention fully focused in the present. She didn’t see anything to alarm the horse, yet it had altered its gait to a more cautious one. She didn’t doubt the horse’s senses for a second. She gently tapped the flanks with her heels and the horse regained its normal jarring gait. Race scanned the surrounding trees and shrubs without seeming to be too interested. Bear was out of sight somewhere, but he often disappeared into the brush. Casually she slipped the holding loop from the hammer of her pistol and held the reins in her left hand, resting her right hand on her thigh just above the pistol’s grip.