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Authors: Richard Stephenson

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BOOK: Redemption
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“Exactly,” said Richard, “our plans to capture the Panama Canal can be modified to take the Mississippi.  I’ve designated it Operation Nantucket.”

“Catchy title,” said Max.  “A symbol of our destination just beyond the shores of the Atlantic.”

“You really think seventy-five helium balloons is enough?  The Chinese have three major military installations along the river,” said President Beck.

“And those three installations will be our targets.  We have the balloons, Mr. President.  The Panama Canal is a much smaller target and seventy-five teams was sufficient for the task.  We have the manpower and resources for three hundred balloons giving us six hundred paratroopers and three hundred Hal robots.  We focus our airborne assaults on Minneapolis, St. Louis, and Baton Rouge, a hundred teams each.  Those three installations are responsible for their long-range radar, communications, and most importantly - the bulk of their air defense.  We hit all three simultaneously and take out their communications and radar, then we’re clear to hit them with everything we’ve got.  Once we break through enemy lines, we airdrop weapons, ammo, and paratroopers to as many American settlements and prison camps as we can, giving them a fighting chance to defend themselves.  Then we fight like hell on the ground and scoop them up along the way.  We don’t stop until we get to the Atlantic.”  Richard stopped pacing and faced Marshall and Max, ready to answer questions.

“That’s it?  You make it sound so easy,” said Max.

“Knock it off, you grumpy bastard, you’re not helping,” said the president.  “General, I trust we can accomplish the mission in the time allotted?”

“Yes, Mr. President.  The logistical side of things are greatly in our favor.  The bulk of our military force is protecting the line at the Rockies.  To put it in the simplest of terms, we give the order to haul ass towards the Mississippi and keep going.  Our timetable will be cutting it close.  We have to gut the Hal robots so they’re light enough for the trip.  Hal estimates it will take about six hours to get that done.  We barely have enough time to get one training jump in for the paratroopers we’re adding to the mission.  The operation will commence four hours before sunrise on the East Coast.”

“The plan sounds solid, what are the risks?” asked Max.

Richard paused for second.  “Hal?  You wanna take that one?”

“Of course, General.  Gentlemen, the most daunting obstacle we are facing is the weather.  Right now, weather conditions are favorable.  However, should those conditions change, it could prove difficult keeping our paratroopers on target.  We are also lacking in crucial Chinese intelligence.  They have gone to great lengths to mask their operations and I am unable to decrypt their communications.”

“We’re not going in blind, are we Hal?” asked the president.

“No, Mr. President, I still have satellite reconnaissance across all visible spectrums.  For Operation Miraflores, I estimated that eighty-six percent of the paratroopers would survive the jump.  Given that seventy-five percent of the paratroopers will only have one training jump prior to the mission, my current estimate is that seventy-one percent of the paratroopers will survive the fall.   If we lack sufficient manpower at one of the targets and can not disable long range radar and communications, the operation will fail and our assault force will be destroyed long before it arrives at the Mississippi River.”

The three men sat in silence for a brief moment, contemplating Hal’s dire estimation.  “You know what I just realized?” said Max, “We’ve never known exactly how many Americans are behind enemy lines.  Hal?”

“Yes, sir, the current American population in Chinese territory is between twelve point one and twelve point two million people.”

“That’s it?” said Richard.

“I am afraid so, sir.  The bulk of the American population east of the Mississippi River evacuated to the PSA in the early days of the war.  Once the Chinese fortified the Mississippi, any American still in the territory was essentially trapped.  Since the Chinese do not waste any of their infrastructure on American refugees outside of the prison camps, the Americans have had to provide for themselves.  A combination of starvation, disease, and lawlessness has diminished the American population to the current estimate.”

“Christ, I thought it was at least twice that,” said Max.

“Regardless the figure,” said the president, “we still have an obligation to save as many lives as we can before the Chinese start murdering them.  We do not have the luxury of time to plan the perfect operation, we have no choice but to do our best with what little time we have.”

“Yes, Mr. President, but I will say it again - I’m terrified of the reason why the Chinese are doing this.  What the hell is going on that would make them do something so horrific?  They must have a reason.”

“I’m sure we’ll know soon enough,” said the president.  “General Dupree, Godspeed to you, sir.”  The president stood and walked the two men to the door of the command center.  “I will remain here in the command center monitoring the operation.  Maxwell, in the interest of continuity of government, I think it is prudent that you and I do not share the same space until this is over.  Why don’t you head to San Francisco and join your wife?  Hal can keep you updated on the operation.”

Max cracked a smile.  “If I have to, Mr. President.”

 

***

 

Max and Richard exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to Max’s quarters.  The sensors in the hallway recognized Max and opened the door before he got there.  Max headed for the kitchen and Richard walked into the living room.

Max poured cranberry juice in a glass and added vodka.  “Want a drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

Chrissy Dupree entered the living room from an adjacent hallway and ran to her father, wrapping her arms around him.  “Dad!  Didn’t think I’d get to see you!”

Richard kissed the top of his daughter’s head.  “Can’t stay, baby, I’m about to leave.  Just wanted to see you and your brother before I left.”

Chrissy stepped back and turned her head to the hallway.  “Tommy!  Your dad’s here!”  She turned back to face her father.  “You should probably just leave him alone for now.  He’s still pissed at you.”

Richard didn’t get a chance to answer.  Max’s son, Thomas, came screaming down the hallway.  “Daddy!  You’re home!  I’m watching
Iron Man
, wanna watch with me?”

“Sorry, buddy, I’m headed out in a few minutes to join your mom.”

“Can I come?  Please?”

“Can’t do it, pal.  You stay here with Chrissy and your mom and I will be back soon.  Tell you what, I can use some help packing, wanna give me a hand?  Come on.”  Max headed to his bedroom with his son.

Richard smiled at the sight of his friend interacting with his son.  Max was in a foul mood most of the time, but when he was with his son, his bitterness was replaced with joy.  Richard then thought of his own son and looked at his daughter.  “So, he’s still pissed at me?”

Chrissy nodded her head.  “Yep, don’t think he’s gonna change his mind anytime soon.”

“Plenty of things your brother can do besides join the military.”

“Dad, he doesn’t want to do anything else.  He’s twenty years old, he’s an adult that can make his own decisions.”

“I know that.  But as long as I have anything to say about it, he’s not joining the military, not while I’m the highest-ranking officer.  Trust me, he’ll get over it.”

“Okay, I’ll try and talk to him, but once he cools down, you need to work this out.”

Richard was confident that the problems he was having with his son would smooth over soon enough.  By this time tomorrow, there would either be no war to fight or no military for his son to join.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

“General Dupree, with all due respect, sir, I’m asking you to please reconsider.”  Colonel Mark Samson knew he was on thin ice but felt it was his duty to help the general see reason.

“Are you volunteering to take my place, Colonel?”

“No, sir, I simply think the prudent course of action would be for you to oversee the operation from a safer environment.”

“Colonel Samson, do you feel unfit to carry out your orders?”  Richard was standing on a stool while technicians attached an oxygen tank to his flight suit.

“Not at all, sir, I just think you’re taking an unnecessary risk.”

“Colonel, your objections are noted.  This operation is in desperate need of qualified paratroopers.  I’m a qualified paratrooper and my skills are needed, it’s as simple as that.”

“But sir, surely we have someone that can take your place.  We need you here.”

“Colonel, I’m not about to sit this one out while a less experienced jumper puts his life on the line.  Did you really think I was gonna sit this one out?”

The colonel grinned, “Not really, sir.”

“Mark, you know as well as I do that any well thought out plan goes to complete shit the moment it’s executed.  I need to be on the front lines where I belong.”

“Yes sir, General.  You know someone had to at least try.”

“Colonel, I’d expect nothing less.  You ready for this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t sweat it, you’ve got the easy job.  When the time is right, all you gotta do is light a fire under everyone’s ass and send ‘em my way.”

“General, I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.  There hasn’t been a battle of this magnitude since Normandy.”

“The Allies didn’t have Hal during World War II.”

“True, but the Allies had more than a day to plan the invasion of France.”

“Colonel, I’d give my right arm to have just a week to plan this operation, but the Chinese are going to start exterminating twelve million Americans very soon.  If we waited another week there’s no telling how many of our people would be murdered.”  Richard raised his arms to allow the technicians to double check his harness.

“You really think two hundred troopers and a hundred Hal robots can cripple a Chinese military base?”

“Colonel, I absolutely guarantee you that those three Chinese bases will not be operational.  We will take the Mississippi, I promise you that.”  Richard extended his arm and the two officers shook hands.

 

***

 

Two hours earlier Richard was sitting in a conference room staring at the wall.  He had just briefed the commanding officers of the other two jumps.  He was confident they would succeed in conquering the Chinese bases at Minneapolis and Baton Rouge while he did the same in St. Louis.  Richard knew both men well and didn’t hesitate to put his full faith in them but one factor still bothered him a great deal - the odds.

“Hal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please tell me the odds on the combat jumps have improved.”

“They have, sir.  The closer we get to the jump we have a more accurate picture of weather patterns.  I can also incorporate the results of the training jump and maintenance reports of the crew cabins to arrive at a new estimation.  I can now calculate that seventy-nine percent of the paratroopers will survive the jump.”

“Those are still shitty odds.  If one of the three targets suffers more than a ten percent loss, the operation will be next to impossible to pull off.”

“I concur, sir.”

“How long will each team have to carry out their mission?”

“Sir, the first priority of each team will be to disable the communication tower so the Chinese can not call for help.  After that, the Hal robots can be activated.  The Hal robots should be able to accomplish the mission in under sixty seconds.  However, the greatest risk to the operation will be the air traffic control towers.  Since I am unable to calculate with any degree of certainty where each team will land, we stand the risk of a team landing on or near the airfield and being seen by the air traffic control towers.  Such an error will result in complete failure.”

“The entire mission can end up in the shitter before we even hit the ground.”

“Correct, sir.”

“Okay, let’s say we succeed and bring down all three bases.  How long before the Chinese realize three of their bases have gone dark and react with force?”

“Sir, it is highly unlikely the Chinese will resort to military action without confirming the cause.  The prudent course of action will be to send drones from nearby bases to obtain visual confirmation.  I will endeavor to engage and destroy any approaching drone before it reaches the target.  Such an engagement will, however, only delay a military reaction for a short period of time.”

Richard slumped down in his chair and rubbed his temples.  “Okay, so how long?”

“Sir, a conservative estimate would be twenty to twenty-five minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, this has got to be the most foolhardy operation in the history of war.  A month wouldn’t be long enough to prepare and we’re stupid enough to think we can do it in a day.  I really wish Howard was here, he would know what to do.”

“Sir, with respect to my creator, I can assure you that is not correct.”

Richard sat up straight and took a few seconds to respond.  “What?”

“Sir, have you never wondered why when Howard died he gave full operational control of my systems to you and not his son?”

Richard sunk back down in his chair and sighed.  “I always thought it was because he died in my arms.”

“No sir, from the moment I was created Howard designated a guardian to be responsible for my program in the event of his death.  His wife Meredith was the first to fill the role.  Upon her death, the responsibility was passed to Dr. Sebastian Biggs.  Are you familiar with Dr. Biggs, sir?”

“No.”

“Dr. Biggs was one of the co-founders of Beck Enterprises.  He later resigned to assume the position of NASA Administrator.  After the Collapse of 2027, Dr. Biggs went missing and Howard assigned guardianship of my program to his son Marshall.”

“What changed his mind?  Why’d he pick me over his own son?”

“Sir, Howard came to hold you in very high regard.  While he found his son more than capable, he regarded you as a military genius and felt your skills and experience made you the better choice.”

BOOK: Redemption
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ads

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