“I’m Gardner, call me Troy,” he told them. “Grab a coffee and meet in the briefing room when you’re set. Empty bunks down the corridor to your left.” They filed inside, loosening their tight flight suits and removing helmets as they passed him.
“Okay, so you’re all clued up as much as I am with the exception of some bad news,” Troy told the twenty-two people present; a few too many for the briefing room leaving a few guys standing. Not counting the two he had standing guard, this was his entire force, but as small as it was, it was certainly formidable. “Fort Bragg was hit by an ICBM, with an expected total loss. Three teams of SF which should have come here won’t be coming at all.” That news hung heavy in the room. The faces of his team registered the facts with anger, processed it, and set it aside to use later. It was clear from the reactions of the Apache crews that they already knew this, but some of the pilots and crew of the 160th cracked at the news.
“We are waiting for orders and intelligence for counterstrikes, but until such time as we are deployed our mission is to sit tight and wait.” He held up both hands to stay the barrage of protests he knew would come. “I know, I hate that shit just as much as everyone here, but it’s what we’re going to do. Any questions?” By telling them that they now had to sit on their asses and wait to be set on something to kill, he expected few questions.
“Command element and reinforcements?” Dillon asked from a seat near the front.
“Unknown on any other personnel,” Troy said, “and command elements are still in play from unknown locations. Comms via satphone and squad net, which I need you to re-encrypt and rotate. Assume we are compromised by any other means of communication, got it?” They did, so Troy dismissed them, knowing that they would do whatever tasks were necessary without orders.
“Jackson, Miller,” Chalky called out making two men stop and turn, “relieve Valdez and Farrell. Send them to me for the brief.” The two men acknowledged their orders and left.
“Go do your rounds,” Chalky told Troy. “I’ll fill in the others.”
Troy nodded to his friend and set down his coffee cup.
THE GREATEST VICTORY
Saturday 6 p.m. Local Time, Beijing
“His Excellency will see you now,” the aide told her, prompting her to stand and smooth down the plain black suit she had been wearing for an entire night and a day. Various high-ranking officials also stood, resplendent in their crisply pressed dress uniforms in honor of seeing the President of the People’s Republic of China face-to-face.
They entered the grand office to find the man himself stood looking out of the huge glass wall over the city sprawling below. Two aides busied themselves in the room and now gathered papers before bowing and leaving, shutting the double doors as they went. All of the invited guests bowed low, waiting for their leader to acknowledge them. He turned, bowed in response, and sat at his desk.
“Tell me,” he began, “how is the operation developing?”
A man stepped forward quickly, bowing again, and gave the report from the perspective of the bombing runs to list a series of grand successes, with his eagerness for praise making the woman in the black suit mindful of a puppy. The president nodded his understanding, then asked for a report on the ballistic missile strikes. His brow wrinkled once on hearing that a missile destined for one of the largest US military bases had been intercepted by advanced anti-ballistic missile technology which they neither knew about or possessed an equal.
“And we are certain that the origin of the attack is not known?” he asked, interrupting the puppy. Silence in the room allowed her to clear her throat and take half a step forward to sketch a further small bow.
“Nothing indicates that they are aware it was us,” she said, her voice sounding cool and confident in contrast to the excited and nervous generals now standing slightly behind her. “And the majority of primary and secondary targets are on course to be destroyed by tonight. We are ready for the next phase, Your Excellency,” she said, bowing again but not stepping backwards.
The president thought for a few seconds before glancing up and locking eyes with her.
“Proceed,” he told her, and seemed to tell her alone, before waving a hand and dismissing them all. They bowed and left the office.
“One moment,” he called after them, making all of them turn, hopeful that they had been addressed personally, but they saw that he was only looking at the woman in the creased black suit. She walked back inside leaving the gaggle of disappointed uniforms behind and flashed them a small smile as she closed the doors herself.
“Your Excellency?” she enquired politely as she approached.
“I am surprised to see you here,” he told her, still not looking at her but keeping his eyes on the papers on his desk. “I was expecting your superior.”
“He is resting, Excellency. It has been a long night,” she said carefully.
“And a longer day,” replied the president, looking up at her as he leaned back in his chair, “but I suspect you haven’t stopped to rest.”
“No, Excellency,” she answered with a depreciating smile. “I have not.”
“I like that,” he told her, “it shows dedication and commitment. Now, take this”—he handed her something the size of a business card—“and report to me directly whenever you need to.”
She took the card and bowed. Turning back from the door she took a gamble and glanced back.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she said, risking his displeasure by reminding him of their family connection. He smiled a small admonishment at his niece, and waved her away with a final piece of advice.
“The greatest victory is that which requires no battle,” he told her, his meaning obvious; he wanted little or no casualties in the next phase of the operation.
She walked away, the quote bouncing around in her brain as she tried to fathom how the remaining population of the United States could be subdued without casualties. Still, already on their way to the continent was a land force the size of which had not been seen since the combined western nations invaded Iraq, and she doubted that any shattered remnants of the American military could withstand that without air superiority and an intact command structure. After grabbing ten minutes sleep in the car on the way back to the command center, she pulled a bag from the trunk and strode inside, bypassing the security station without question.
Now, dressed in a fresh black suit and white blouse, she gave the order to invade, not waiting for confirmation from her superiors.
SHOWS HOW MUCH YOU KNOW A PERSON
Saturday 5 a.m. – 79th Street Basin, NYC
After their flight from the dangers of Central Park during a blackout and in the midst of anarchy, the four unlikely allies helped themselves to transport at a CitiBike stand by 72nd Street. All four were quiet, mostly for their own reasons, and none of them had much in the way of breath to spare. Blasting through the streets, weaving around abandoned cars and dodging looters, they had a tense moment as they had to divert the inferno that had once been a massive department store. Eventually hitting Riverside Drive, they turned north again, abandoning the bikes at the 79th Street Basin.