Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone (27 page)

Now the remote operators steered their deadly charges west over the Reflecting Pool, with gunfire shattering the black granite surface of the Vietnam Memorial, before proceeding above the long series of steps to hover near the seated statue of Abraham Lincoln. Moments later, the most recognized symbol of American civil rights and unity was nothing more than a dusty pile of crumbled masonry.

Six minutes had passed since the drones had lifted from their bunkers.

********  

“Damn you, Nathan!” Xander yelled into his comm. “I thought you said these things were easy to pilot?”

“Just relax and feel the controls. You’re jerking them all over the place.”

“It would have been nice to have even a minute of training before heading out on our first mission.”

Xander and the other five members of Team Alpha were struggling with an impossibly short learning curve as they guided the nearly-invisible Goliath drones towards the battlefield. To the monitors in Hangar One at Andrews, the flight paths of the drones tracked like that of drunken hummingbird, zigging and zagging from side to side while doing their best to maintain a somewhat forward heading.

Flight time from Andrews to the Capitol Mall was only three minutes, yet by the time Xander got his team into the pods and their birds in the air, the attack was already well underway. Now, as they arrived on-site, the scene revealed in the dim December sunlight was one to bring a tear to any proud American.

The entire area was a crumbled and burning inferno. From the Capitol, to the White House, to the fallen Washington Monument, nothing was as the postcards portrayed, not anymore. The image of the falling buildings of the World Trade Center was a tragedy, Xander thought, but this was so much worse. This was the capital of the nation, and it now lay in ruin.

“Incoming!” he heard the voice of Karen Prado cry out, both in his headset, as well as her proximity in the control pod to his right.

“Where?”

“Everywhere!”

Even with the low radar and visual signature of the Goliaths, a few of the RDC octocopters zipping about had nearly collided with a couple of the stealth drones. Reports were made, and a swarm of red, white, and blue painted JEN-Tech Viper III’s began scouring the skies for the elusive defenders.

“Attack at will,” Xander ordered. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find targets. Let’s clear the air, Alphas!”

Fully ensconced in the offsite perspective provided by their FPV goggles, the members of Team Alpha broke into individual attack units, with each pilot now having gained a decent feel for their aircraft. Brilliant flashes of light seemed to erupt out of thin air as the .60’s cut loose, rippling into the hardened plastic and fiberglass frames of Vipers. Designed by Billy’s own company to withstand hits from the standard 5mm nylon-jacketed armament, the Vipers—before today, Xander’s preferred combat drone—were no match for the supercharged shells issued forth from the Goliaths. A dozen of the attackers evaporated in the air above the Mall.

Xander and Billy then set off toward the White House, while the others tracked raiders by the Capitol and the Library of Congress. The White House was just a shell of its former self by now, with half of its structure lying in ruins. There were a dozen or more enemy drones buzzing over the property, firing into the surviving front façade of the building.

The two Goliaths whipped round the building unseen and unleashed a barrage of killer fire into the hovering drones. The DARPA drones had laser-guided targeting, and it only took a split second to lock onto a dozen hostiles at once. A single press of the trigger took them all out in rapid succession.

“There’s still over thirty targets surviving,” Nathan’s voice said over the comm. “They appear to have backup units at their disposal, so final assault tally unknown. Units now crossing the Potomac heading for the Pentagon.”

“I’m on it,” Hugh Barden called out.

“Be careful,” Nathan warned. “They have a couple hundred defensive drones of their own covering the building, and they’ll shoot at anything that comes their way.”

“Can they defend themselves?” Xander asked.

“Nine Vipers just slammed into the building and detonated,” Nathan reported, “so I guess not, at least not against suicide drones.”

“Be on alert, everyone,” Xander ordered. “If they’re willing to sacrifice active units, that means they may have a lot more in reserve. There could be a second wave coming. Nathan, any word on the president?”

“He’s safe, somewhere below the White House.”

“Good. Billy and I will head over toward the Smithsonian. What’s the count now?”

“Thirty or so now remaining, even though it’s now confirmed we’re picking up sporadic late entries to the party. Probably been hiding on the ground somewhere.”

Xander caught sight of six enemy drones soaring over the Air and Space Museum, releasing a line of missile fire as they did. Xander lined up on them and pressed the trigger. Half of the drones shattered, and it was almost comical to watch the survivors pull up and begin spinning around looking for the source of the incoming fire. Two of them were looking straight in Xander’s direction when he opened fire again.

Xander could imagine that in a secret and secluded control room located somewhere halfway around the world, a group of bewildered drone pilots were scratching their heads, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Unfortunately, their confusion didn’t last long, as each of the enemy pilots linked with another six reserve drones and rejoined the battle.

“Team Bravo now on station,” a deep, masculine voice boomed over the comm. Xander didn’t recognize the voice.

“Team Bravo?” he questioned.

“Well, you guys have Alpha copyrighted. Major Jim Lyle, USAF, reporting for duty.”

Xander lifted the goggles from his head and looked around the huge hangar. Four more of the pods were now occupied by men in uniform. One of them sent him a crisp salute.

“Four more Goliaths just in from Hampton Roads,” the major reported. “We’re some of the test pilots for the G’s. We’ve been sitting around in the back just twiddling our thumbs with nothing to do—until now. So is there a uniform defense strategy or are we free-balling it?”

“Welcome to the party, Major. Free-balling. The enemy forces are spread all over the place, hitting whatever targets of opportunity they can find. Feel free to chalk up as many kills as you can.”

“Roger that. Engaging.”

In less than five minutes, Xander was soaring high above the battlefield, looking for stray targets to strike. There didn’t seem to be any left.

“The air is clear, at least above D.C.,” Nathan Hall reported. “Return to base for recharging and reassignment. We’re getting reports of RDC drones hitting New York. We have half a dozen Goliaths in the area, so it looks like it could be a long night.”

It was always a strange sensation for Xander when he removed the FPV goggles after a particularly intense battle. From being completely absorbed in combat at the site, to suddenly sitting in a comfortable leather chair in a modestly quiet and relatively peaceful command center was always a jarring experience. The Goliaths were programmed with a return-to-origin function, so he and the other members of Team Alpha didn’t even have to wait for their Goliaths to return to Andrews before they suddenly found themselves ripping through the glass and steel canyons of New York City, chasing yet another swarm of enemy drones.

Although it wasn’t completely dark yet, power had been cut to the city to reduce the chance of electrical fires and to make the forest of buildings that much harder to navigate, especially for pilots located on the other side of the planet.

Almost immediately, the Alphas were fed targeting information, and the battle was joined.

The city had already been hard hit over the past couple of days, with most of its residents having already evacuated or hidden away within the thousands of massive buildings. This new fight soon escalated into a high-speed game of cat and mouse, as the RDC Vipers, under control by Almasi’s pilots—many of which had just been laying waste in Washington, D.C.—had learned that there was a stealth presence out stalking them. And when a number of their sister units began to be blown apart from unseen machine gun and missile fire, the pilots elected to run rather than stand and fight.

Unfortunately, Xander realized too late where most of them were running to.

“Can anyone get there first?” he shouted into the comm.

“I’m out of position, up near Central Park,” Curt Tharp reported.

“I’m close, near the Tunnel, but they’re thirty seconds ahead.”

“Dammit, we can’t let this happen.”

Xander gunned his Goliath and soared out toward South Manhattan. As he shot out over the water, the huge, iconic Statue of Liberty suddenly erupted in a halo of tiny explosions. The copper and steel figure began to bend forward at the waist, even as the long arm holding the perpetual flame of freedom broke away and fell to the ground of Liberty Island.

By the time Xander arrived, there were no enemy drones to shoot. They had all plowed into the statue while simultaneously exploding. He felt weak and impotent as he hovered near the deformed, green-tinted statue. She hadn’t fallen, but she was badly damaged, just another entry on the long list of shattered symbols of America that had suffered at the hands of Abdul-Shahid Almasi … and Jonas Lemon.

Soon the other five members of Team Alpha were also in the air above the Statue of Liberty. No one said a word for a full minute.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nathan’s voice said softly. “I just thought you’d like to know that we’re getting only a few reports of escaping RDC drones leaving the other bunkers, but nothing large scale. We’ve been able to shutter most of them. So now Almasi has started detonating the explosives on the trapped RPAs in the bunkers. I’m commanding the New York Goliaths to return to their local base. The rest of you can take a well-deserved break. I’ll use Major Lyle’s pilots for any of the mop up work. Great job … all of you.”

“Great job?” Karen’s voice rose up over the comm. “Just about everything that identifies with American greatness has been destroyed, and we did very little to stop it.”

“It could’ve been worse,” Nathan offered.

“That’s what they always say,” Xander whispered, yet loud enough for everyone could hear. “And the sad part about it, they’re right.”

Chapter 23

After the attacks on Washington and New York, Almasi returned to his combination office and living quarters to analyze what had happened. He didn’t have much time alone before the obnoxious Russian general, Nikolay Burkov, entered without knocking or invitation.

“There are some disturbing occurrences taking place in America, Abdul-Shahid. Would you care to share with me what you know of these?”

Almasi watched with wide, manic eyes as the fat Russian officer took a seat in front of his desk and returned the unblinking stare with one of his own. “Seeing that you enter here without invitation, and then make a statement without details, you will have to be a little more specific as to what
occurrences
you speak of.”

“First of all, I have been monitoring the frequency of the attacks, and they appeared to have ceased completely, except for the botched activities I just witnesses.”

“
Botched?
You call that botched?” In a violent fit, Almasi picked up the remote control on the desk and turned on the T.V. sitting on a credenza to his right. Even without the sound turned up, it was clear from the shots of burning iconic buildings and ruined national monuments that something tragic had just taken place in America’s capital. “Look, the White House is in ruins, the Washington Monument has fallen, the Statue of Liberty is a twisted and armless relic. And yet you call that
botched
. I call it a success!”

“Even in the presence of stealth drones you knew nothing about? We have invested a lot in you, Abdul-Shahid, including your ability to keep your coalition together. That appears not to be the case.”

“Don’t blame me for that. China is the reason Korea and Iran have forced my allies to abandon us. Even so, the damage caused to the infidels up to this point should be adequate to meet your goals. And now, with the images of a shattered White House and Capitol Building to haunt the Americans, I cannot see them returning to their normal lives any time soon. You will have your economic collapse, just as I promised.”

The huge Russian grunted. “Perception is everything to the Americans, you should know this, Almasi. It is clear now that future attacks will subside, and that there is a new secret weapon to be deployed against the ones that do take place. Now that we are aware of their existence, we have tracked the returning stealth drones to Andrews Air Force Base, where they will surely be revealed to the public as the ultimate safeguard against future attacks. Whether right or wrong, the government will offer up as proof the inevitable decline in your drone attacks. Ortega and his people will put all their efforts into advertising this fact, and with time still left for the population to regain confidence and a feeling of security—even in light of the damage you have caused over the past few days.”

“Bullshit! The Americans are traumatized and scared. It will be a long time before they recover.”

Burkov shook his head. “Have you not learned anything from the past? All you have to do is look to the attacks of September eleventh to see that the Americans are more resilient—and resistant—than you give them credit for. And when the motive behind the recent crisis is revealed, do not be surprised to see the American people rise up in protest to our goals just to spite us. I will grant you that the economy of the Western world has been hurt, but not fatally.”

Almasi was growing angrier by the minute. He had done all—even more—than the Russians had asked of him. Even after his coalition had fallen apart, he was still able to launch the most devastating attack on the country ever.

“You forget that that media will fill the airwaves with these images non-stop for months, even years to come. The American people will not be allowed to forget what I—we—have done this week.”

“Let us hope they never learn the full involvement of my government, Abdul-Shahid. Your small, diverse organization is impossible to declare war against and have it mean anything; however, my country is a legitimate member of the world community. And you
are
right, these images will be broadcast, and just as with 9/11, world sentiment will side with the United States. We—meaning my country—could be in for a very difficult time if the truth is ever revealed.”

There was something in the Russian’s tone that made Almasi take the last statement as a threat. “It will not be me who reveals the truth, Nikolay. I have no interest in deflecting attention or responsibility. Whatever befalls the Arm of Allah, I will welcome it, even if I am to become a martyr to the cause.”

“That is very noble of you, and reassuring.”

“You seem not to understand
my
motivations, Nikolay. I
want
America to know who did this to them, and by doing so, my name will live forever in the nightmares of America, right alongside Bin Laden—
even before Bin Laden’s
. You speak of the Americans regaining confidence in their security, yet you also seem to overlook the fact that I have destroyed nearly all their combat drones, even those hidden in the RDC bunkers. The auto drones would not detonate, yet I still had control over the RPAs. Except for a relatively few stealth drones, they do not have anything available to put before the country as a viable deterrent to future attacks.”

“By our estimates, you managed to destroy only a third of the RDC’s capacity. Even now they have discovered your link into the bunkers and are in the process of using it themselves to gain quicker access to the remaining drones.”

Almasi’s stomach tightened. He had not heard this before. “That cannot be correct—only a third? I personally sent out the detonate command to all the drones we controlled at the time.”

“Their scientists were in the process of negating your control at the time your order was sent. With hundreds of bunkers involved, you did not have the opportunity—or the desire—to verify every detonation. You assumed it was more. Within days, thousands of their obnoxiously-painted drones will be on display as a show of force against the non-existent future attacks you speak of. Once out in the open—and with a dramatic drop off in attacks—the Americans will be convinced that the crisis over.”

“Then we must not let up! I still have over a hundred RPAs available that escaped the bunkers before they were resealed.”

“And what would you strike at, Almasi? Your remaining force is of limited power and range. It will do us no good for the batteries to fail mid-operation and have your mighty drones fall from the sky.”

“Then we must make this attack both effective and symbolic.”

“Again … at what target?”

“The stealth drones!”

“They are housed at a powerful military base, Almasi. It would be foolish to attempt such an attack.”

“No … it will be
bold
, and unexpected! By showing I can strike at their military facilities, while also eliminating their prized propaganda toys, the uncertainty and paranoia may last a while longer, at least through the season. Once December twenty-fifth has passed, there will be nothing to salvage. The Americans will move on, passing over this season in anticipation of the next. The negative effect on their economy at that point should be enough to push them over the edge. Do you not agree?”

The Russian was silent for a moment as his eyes stared back at Almasi under bushy, unkempt eyebrows. “I agree they’re close to a total collapse, and another week or so without a major surge in commerce could be enough.”

“Yes! We just need to keep the Americans in their homes for a few days more. And what better way to do that than to show that we still have the capability to take out their most effective weapon against us.”

This time the Russian snorted rather than grunted. “That is assuming you truly can. As I said, your assets are few and their battery-life limited. Where are these drones you say you can use in the attack?”

“They are in the D.C. area, drawn from local bunkers. The only reason they weren’t used in the first attack was the lack of pilots to control them. Now my crews are free to take on this new mission, and I have reserve pilots I can now call on with a little time to prepare.”

“Very little time, Abdul-Shahid. What you suggest cannot be delayed.” He paused while considering the plan. “Very well,” the fat Russian general finally said. “I will have target information on the stealth drones to you within twelve hours. I must send in assets to make sure we have the precise location. You will only get one opportunity at this.”

Almasi stared at the man with cold, dark eyes. “That will be acceptable, Nikolay. Give the Americans a little breathing room and let them think the worst is over. Then I’ll hit them again. It will be the final nail in their coffin.”

“Or in ours, my radical friend. Soon we will know which.”