SECTOR 64: Ambush (24 page)

The weapon, a secret asteroid buster, was a two-stage double nuclear penetrator. A special chamber encased the first-stage nuke. For the initial nanosecond of its detonation, the energy from the exploding atom bomb focused in one direction, generating an intensely powerful x-ray laser beam. Even though the nuclear detonation obliterated the device a fraction of a millisecond later, the initial powerful beam disrupted molecular bonds deep into the target. To preserve the integrity of the second nuke, the same focusing physics diverted a significant portion of the first nuke's energy away from the trailing stage's hardened nuclear weapon.

Shedding sacrificial layers of carbon steel, the second nuke bored through the resultant blast and into the tunnel of plasma-state matter. Even without the nuclear laser assist, the second stage slammed into the target with enough kinetic energy to go through one hundred twenty feet of reinforced solid concrete. Theoretically, the combined effect could drive the second nuclear device ten times that depth, up to twelve hundred feet, into solid rock. Set prior to launch, a collapsing-capacitor timer detonated the second nuclear device when it reached the center of the target.

It was rumored the design came from a weapon initially drawn up as a bunker buster for use in an all-out nuclear war. However, this will be the first full-scale aboveground deployment of the device.

When General Tannehill called with a brief description of the alien ships and the apparent threat portended by their silence and appearance, Colonel Newcastle had framed a quick battle plan. He decided to attack the first two targets—one in DC, and one in Moscow—with eight simultaneously fired missiles. Depending on their success, he would further divide their forces, attacking the rest of the alien fleet before more cities were lost.

Each ship only carried four missiles, so they had to maximize their effectiveness.

Colonel Newcastle's fighter raced along its assigned vector. In less than two seconds, all seven of the remaining fighters reached their designated initialization points and turned inbound on their attack trajectories.

***

"It looks like they're spreading out, surrounding the entire ship," Richard said as they watched the scene develop.

Jake studied the evil looking alien visage. "I see some structures on top of the head. I hadn't noticed them before. It almost looks like a … bridge."

"That thing is huge," Victor said. "Those fighters look like gnats. They don't stand a chance."

"Obviously they think they do, and considering they're apparently our last hope, we better—"

Suddenly, brilliant light haloed the enemy ship. In an instant, its intensity grew too bright for the camera. The satellite's video feed washed-out.

***

The ship's huge size amazed Colonel Newcastle. They were inside its shields, but they were still a mile from their target. Even at this distance, the ship filled his forward screen.

Thank god our theories on how the drive would penetrate a forcefield were right. Otherwise, this would have been the shortest counter-attack in the history of warfare.

What happened next was so quick the human eye could not truly appreciate or capture it. If you filmed the event with a high-speed camera and slowed the playback, you would see the ships simultaneously dart at the alien ship from seven discrete attack angles. In a millisecond, they reached the desired speed and released their missiles. Then, the ships instantaneously changed course ninety degrees. Shooting straight up, they rocketed out of the area with enough speed to outrun the ensuing nuclear shock wave.

Colonel Newcastle's helmet visor auto-darkened as a brilliant light enveloped the wing's seven remaining fighters. Reaching the relative safety of space, he turned to observe the effectiveness of the attack.

"Oh god, we lost them," Vic cried. His plaintive words echoed in the control room's cemeterial silence.

As the brilliance faded and the video feed resumed, a second explosion ripped through the giant ship. Glowing with dazzling internal brilliance, hundreds of fissures spread across the ship's component asteroids. Then it blew apart. Huge pieces of various sizes plunged into Chesapeake Bay.

They stared at the screen in shocked silence, then all three men screamed with joy. Richard wrapped Victor in a bear hug. The small lieutenant's feet left the ground. Jake laughed, then he heard the radio crackle to life. "Wait, listen."

"… Wing, this is Vampire Six, over."

Richard set Victor down. "It's Colonel Newcastle."

"They made it," Vic whispered.

"This is Bravo Wing," replied a voice with a thick Russian accent. "We're three minutes from engaging the bastards that just hit Moscow."

The news slammed Jake. "Oh, fuck."

"Damn it! I'm sorry Vlad."

Jake heard his shock mirrored in the colonel's voice.

"They hit DC too," Colonel Newcastle said, his east Texas drawl heavy with the news. "We don't know what the weapon did, but I'm pretty sure it ain't good." The colonel's voice took on an urgent tone. "Anyway, we don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. We hit them en route to New York. The tactic worked. The enemy ship was destroyed. As briefed, divide your wing into four pairs. Attack the remaining ships in teams of two. I'll split up Alpha Wing, and we'll do the same."

"Comrade, I know we discussed this, but are you sure a pair of ships can handle one of these things? It is huge."

"Believe me, friend. Two will be enough. We hit it with seven." The colonel paused, chuckling menacingly. Sharing Newcastle's apparent vengeful elation, Jake imagined him staring down into the steaming, partially submerged remnants of the shattered enemy ship. "It was destroyed … completely, serious overkill."

"Da, Vampire Six. My wingman and I will attack this one. Thank you for the news, comrade."

"Make 'em pay Vlad."

"Oh, I will," the Russian commander said with an ominous tone. "Bravo Wing, out."

Jake dug a headset from the uniform piled in front of the radio. Sliding it over his head, he detected the faint scent of the previous user's aftershave. Looking down, he saw a name tag.

TANNEHILL

"Oh shit," he said.

Seeing the same thing, Richard bowed his head. After a silent moment, he lifted an angry glare to the enemy ships on the large monitors. "He was a good man."

Undoubtedly thinking of his parents, Vic had a sickened expression.

Jake placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "They may have been out of town."

Shaking his head, Victor's gaze shifted from wall to floor. His expression transitioned from glare to lost stare.

Frustrated, Jake shook his head. "There's nothing we can do for anyone here. Let's focus on what we can do for those left." He keyed the mic. "Vampire Six, this is Turtle One calling from Space Control, over."

"Roger, Turtle One…" said Colonel Newcastle with evident confusion. "You're in Space Control?"

"Yes, sir. I wanted to find out what happened."

"Is this Captain Giard?"

Jake paused, looking at the mic.
This guy is well informed.
"Uh … yes sir, it is."

"Okay, good job, Captain. What is our situation on the ground?"

Jake swallowed hard. "Sir, DC appears to be a complete loss."

A long silence followed Jake's words. "Thanks for your report, Captain. I'm sure he's on the horn with the president, but I need to speak with General Tannehill. Please call him to the radio."

Jake cast a forlorn glance at the general's name tag. "I'm sorry, sir. It reached here too."

Another pause. "That deep underground?"

"Yes, sir."

"General Tannehill?"

"Gone, sir."

Silent, Jake stared at the radio, giving the colonel a moment to digest the news. When the pause started to feel too long, he reached for the mic then stopped as the speaker crackled to life.

"What happened?"

He looked from Vic to Richard. "Honestly, sir, I don't know. Structurally, everything is intact. Buildings, trees, and equipment are all still standing. Even machines and electronics still work, but all the people are … gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir. It looks like they … vanished. All we've found is piles of clothes left where they dropped. We haven't found any bodies, even down here."

Deafening silence streamed through the radio speaker. "Gentleman, I need to know the range of that weapon."

Jake gave Richard a meaningful glance. "Yes, sir. We were already working on a plan to do just that."

"Good. This thing must have a recharge time. I can't imagine they would've let us within its range if they could've simply activated the weapon and vaporized us. So, if my fighters are going to be successful, we need to know how far to standoff when they're about to activate it."

Jake hadn't thought of that. He was impressed with how fast the colonel accepted the disastrous news and shifted back into strategizing.

Newcastle continued. "We'll work out the timeline, but I need your team to find its range."

"Roger, Vampire Six," Jake said. "We saw some activity in western Maryland. We'll head that way. I'll report back to you on this frequency."

"Good copy, Turtle One. I've split my wing into three groups. We're heading to our next targets, so get me that data ASAP."

"Roger, Six, Turtle One out," Jake said, pulling off the headset. He turned to see Captain Allison and Lieutenant Croft already heading for the door. After a quick glance back at the alien ships on the monitors, he turned and followed.

***

Captain Sandra Fitzpatrick's steady rhythmic breathing, a technique born through years of cardio training, belied the horror gripping her soul.
The teddybear, oh god, the teddybear.
An image she couldn't shake, the vision would haunt her for the rest of her days.

Earlier, while jogging toward the distant terminal building, Sandy came across a still idling airport transfer bus. Hoping to use it to expedite the crossing, she peered into its closed glass doors. In spite of the eastern glow of the coming sunrise, she couldn't discern details through its dirty windows. However, the bus looked empty.

Jamming her fingers into the rubber gap between the panels, Sandy tried to pry the split glass doors apart. After a fruitless half-minute struggle, she finally noticed a backlit recessed emergency-release button left of the door. Activating it, Sandy heard a short blast of compressed air. She jumped as the doors popped two inches out of their opening and then parted, each sliding in opposite directions.

"Hello?"

No reply rose above the bus's droning diesel engine.

She took a tentative step into the opening. "Is anybody in here?"

Standing half in the doorway, Sandy screamed as two strong hands, squeezing from both sides, grasped her shoulders. Another blast of compressed air burped from under the bus, and the door trying to close on her retracted.

"Shit!" Sandy kicked the right panel of the retreating glass door and shook her head.
Keep it together Captain Fitzpatrick.
She stepped all the way into the bus, and its doors slid closed. Air conditioner blower noise replaced the engine's. Getting over her skittishness, she stepped into the driver's compartment. In the dawn's wan light, the seat looked empty. Groping in the darkness, Sandy worked her way closer. A few awkward seconds later, she finally dropped into it.

Something was wrong with the seat. It felt like someone left a towel or cloth on it. Running her fingers across the material's loose rippled surface, Sandy froze, remembering what she saw while peering down into the empty F-18's cockpit. An uncomfortable hard object dug into her right thigh. Wide-eyed in the dark, she leaned left and pulled it out from under her leg. Breathlessly holding the object up, she studied its angular silhouette against the deep turquoise hue of the early morning sky. A round ball on one end and a long rod on the other, it felt metallic. With her opposite hand, she blindly searched the instrument panel for a light switch. A huge windshield wiper arm sparked to life, its dry rubber blade chattering against the dirty glass. Another switch later, the bus's cabin lit up like an exam room. Sandy blinked and squinted as the sudden blast of light burned her dark adapted eyes.

Finally able to see, she squinted at the device in her hand. Struggling not to scream, Sandy dropped the artificial hip. Jumping to her feet, she looked down to see a bus driver's uniform strewn across the compartment. While the driver's shirt was on the floor, the pants, belt still buckled, lay in the seat. She saw several shiny objects littering the interior of the pants. Bending, she looked closer. In a sudden epiphany, she recognized the parts as titanium screws.

What the hell could do that?
She looked from the strewn articles, to the screws, and finally to the artificial hip where it had landed next to her right foot.
Why isn't there any blood?

Backing away in shocked dismay, Sandy stumbled. Regaining her footing in the bus's central corridor, she looked aft and froze. Visible in the cabin's stark white light, emptied articles of clothing littered the entire bus.

A glint of light drew her attention to one of the front left seats. A teddybear's half open glass-bead eyes peered from under a vacated toddler's outfit. On the narrow bench, a little girl's tiny white and yellow dress sat between piled clothes of an apparent mother and father. Worn in anticipation of an early morning departure to some exciting destination, the tiny girl's yellow ribbons and pink bows now lay strewn about her emptied clothes.

Sandy had a mental image of the parents casting horrified glances at the monstrosity hovering overhead while they tried to calm their frightened little girl. But, in Sandy's vision, she and Jake were the anxious couple. The child between them was the little girl with golden locks that she'd often imagined would grace their future. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to the point where the baby-bump would soon show.

As a tear threatened to breach the levee of her lower eyelid, Sandy extended a trembling hand toward the stuffed animal. After a short hesitation, she caressed its furry belly.