9

JOHNSON SPACE CENTER

HOUSTON, TEXAS

The blue and white Bell helicopter set down easily on the pad. Admiral Carl Everett, attired in his summer whites, watched as a small crowd gathered around the NASA helipad. They looked as if they were wearing Event Group blue jumpers and for the briefest of moments he thought about home. The illusion was quickly dashed when he saw the horde of Air Police surrounding the group of men and women. He allowed the two-bladed rotors to whine down before the crew chief slid the large door open. As he reached for his seabag the crew chief took it first.

“All this will be brought to your quarters, Admiral; you are scheduled for meetings throughout the night.”

Everett nodded, then reached through the compartment and tapped the pilot on his shoulder and nodded his thanks. He stepped from the helicopter and placed his saucer cap over his blond hair and then came forward. He was quickly approached by a young woman wearing the blue coveralls bearing the NASA emblem on her left breast.

“Admiral, we expected you two days ago,” she said, saluting.

Everett returned the salute and then saw the Air Force lieutenant insignia on her collar.

“Had problems arise, as I’m sure you’ve heard, Lieutenant.” Carl moved forward as the lieutenant caught up.

“Yes, sir, it’s just that one of the propulsion engineers has been screaming bloody murder since your original arrival date came and went. He’s been a real bear, sir.”

Everett turned on the young officer. “Look, Lieutenant…?”

“Branch, sir, Evelyn Branch.”

“Branch, I couldn’t give a damn about any civilian engineer who is upset that a small alien incursion has happened and I was delayed in transit. So inform this asshole, whoever he is, he can—”

“Toad, you son of a bitch, I knew I’d get you out here sooner or later!”

Everett froze. The recent past came flooding back on him as the young lieutenant smiled and then stepped out of the way to join the rest of her team watching the anticipated reunion. Everett turned to find one of his worst nightmares staring him in the face.

United States Navy Master Chief Archibald Jenks stood leaning on a cane. He removed the stub of a cigar and made a kissing motion by pursing his lips. He finally smiled.

The last time Everett had seen the master chief he was being carried off on a stretcher to a local Los Angeles hospital after the Event Group incursion into Brazil and the search for the not-so-mystical El Dorado mine. Jenks was now attired in a lab coat that did his rotund appearance no good at all. His eyes went from Carl to the young lieutenant who stood in line. His eyes wandered over her tight-fitting jumpsuit and then he again made eye contact with Carl and raised his brows twice in succession.

“Master Chief,” he said as he finally found strength in his legs to step forward. He eyed the man up and down and smiled. “Or is it Mr. Jenks?”

“Just Jenks will do, Toad, or if you insist, Professor Jenks, asshole.” He held out his hand.

Carl shook and then looked around at the young people he was surrounded by. “What are you running here, Jenksy, a day-care center?”

Jenks looked at the NASA men and women and replaced the cigar stub in his mouth. “Yeah, it’s like the Amazon all over again, huh? I mean, these kids are young enough to be in high school.” He grinned. “But we did get those kids in the Amazon home again, didn’t we?”

“Yes we did, Chief.”

The chief’s demeanor instantly changed. “After you and that crackhead army major trashed my boat, my baby!”

“Look, Master Chief, Teacher saved all our lives, and with my last look at my pay voucher I was still paying for that damn boat, one dollar a month for the rest of my life.”

“Hah! Got you there, didn’t I? It’s got to be hell at tax time trying to explain that one.”

Everett remembered the beautiful boat, USS Teacher, an experimental river craft of the chief’s design and construction. The genius little engineer had built the most magnificent and advanced boat he had ever seen, only to have Everett and Jack Collins ram it into an ancient gold mine and sink her in a bottomless lagoon. He coughed and cleared his throat.

“And that’s now General Crackhead, Chief,” Carl said, referring to Jack’s new brevet rank.

“Jesus, the military is really hard up, ain’t they?”

“Hard up enough to give me a brevet rank also, you old goat.”

Jenks eyed Everett up and down, his eyes finally settling on the admiral’s shoulder boards for the briefest of moments. Then he removed the stub of cigar and tossed it into the wind.

“Yeah, the navy always gives you the candy before the medicine, if I remember right.” He eyed Carl and then shook his head. “Well, this time I’m afraid you’ll earn it, Toad, my boy.”

The master chief gestured for the young NASA officers to scatter as he and Carl moved toward the elevator on top of the roof. The men and women all looked on in shock, as they had never seen the man that had driven them crazy for the past year so cowed by a mere man before. They immediately had respect for anyone that could do that with the old chief designer.

“Just what in the hell is going on, Master Chief?” Carl asked as Jenks growled at two lieutenants when they tried to get into the elevator with them, sending them scurrying for cover.

“These young folks are going to make you an astronaut, Toad. And the plan is we’re going to try and save this fucked-up planet.” He hit the floor button he wanted. “What for, I’ll never know, as I never found much use for it, or at least the species that occupies it much.”

Carl was ashen faced as the elevator doors slid closed. “Astronaut?”

“That’s right, my boy, a fucking astronaut. That’s what I call military preparedness.” He hesitated and then smiled wider than before. “Admiral.” He laughed all the way to the fifth floor of the astronaut training center.

The space arm of Operation Overlord had its commander.

WALTER REED NATIONAL MILITARY MEDICAL CENTER

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Virginia Pollock sat next to the bed and reached over to take Niles Compton’s left hand, careful not to touch the cast of his right arm. The doctors had barely managed to save the limb after sixteen hours of complicated surgery. The entire right side of his face was covered in white-gauze bandages and that was the injury that made Virginia tear up. Niles had lost the eye and he would have a scar running down the side of his face for the rest of his life. He had not awakened since her arrival.

She looked up at the silent television as President Camden was seen visiting his comatose predecessor as he lay in bed in severe critical condition, as the multitude of specialists proclaimed he may or may not pull through. Many people saw the disgust in the face of the nation’s first lady as the new man in the Oval Office shook her hand in condolences. It was no secret that the first lady shared her husband’s contempt of the former Speaker of the House; the distaste was hard to miss.

Virginia turned at the sound of a light knock on the door. She crossed the room and opened it.

“Acting Director Pollock?” A small man with glasses stood massaging a briefcase that had seen far better days. Another taller and very much thinner man was standing behind him. He looked more nervous than the smaller gentleman.

“Dr. Pollock,” she corrected apprehensively, as she didn’t know these two in the slightest.

The tall man nudged the smaller man in front of him.

“Of course, my apologies.” The man eyed the taller, dark-haired Virginia nervously.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” she asked abruptly, not wanting to disturb Niles.

“Dr. Pollock, my name is Sanford, Max Sanford. I am the director of the National Archives, and this is Mr. Halliburton West, of the General Accounting Office.”

A light came on inside Virginia’s brilliant head and she stepped aside to allow the men in. They stood before the bed and looked down on Niles. The smaller man looked as if he were about to cry. The taller one moved to inspect Niles’s face. He also shook his head.

“God, look what they have done to him,” Sanford said. He straightened and then placed the briefcase he was carrying on a nearby chair.

“I take it you gentlemen are here because of the succession regulations?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes, Doctor.” Sanford looked from Virginia toward a departing shot of Camden on television as he waved his hands at the reporters gathered at the scene. “As you know—or may not know,” he corrected as he looked down on Niles’s still form, “we have to brief the new president on Department 5656 no later than ten days after he takes office. That’s the law as set down by President Roosevelt in the forties.”

Virginia turned away and cringed. The thought of an enemy of not only the president but of Niles Compton taking command of the Group made her almost ill.

“Doctor, we have no desire to do that, but according to law we have no choice. My job is to budget Department 5656 and hide just where that budget has come from. There is no choice but to brief the new commander-in-chief on your department’s charter and budgetary limitation, or its extremes,” said West.

“No.”

They all three turned. Niles was awake.

“Niles,” Virginia said as she hurriedly approached the bed.

“I will … order … Virginia to … blow up … my facility before…” Niles drifted away as Virginia took his good left hand in her own.

“What do you want us to do, Niles?”

The two men exchanged brief looks and then a conspiracy-laced mask crossed their features as they too stepped up to the bed.

“That man is not to know about us … until … Overlord is … off … the ground. He … is … never to … know … about Magic.”

“What’s Magic?” Sanford asked in a whisper.

“An Event Group asset that occupies the house you gentlemen paid for in Arizona,” Virginia said, just wanting the red tape boys to be silent as she got her orders.

Both men knew of the expenditures in time and material for something just south of Chato’s Crawl, Arizona, but had never thought anything about it. They nodded their heads, still not understanding.

“We … need … your … help … gentlemen,” Niles whispered. “Get lost until … until…” Niles coughed lightly and then opened his good eye against the pain he was feeling. “You’ll know when … the departmental briefing on … my … Group … can … take … place … Just watch the news.”

The two men exchanged looks. They had battled with Niles Compton for over fifteen years, and Senator Garrison Lee before him, on budgets and allocations for the top-secret agency. They grimaced at the thought of lying to the president, but nodded their agreement anyway.

“We’ll do what we can, Dr. Compton,” West said.

“Good … good,” he said as his good eye closed. “Virginia?”

“Yes,” she said as she leaned in closer.

“You have to … help … Overlord … make sure … our … people … do … their jobs. Carl and Jack will need … their help. The unexpected … will … arise … and I only … trust our Group, understand?”

Virginia backed away when Niles gestured for the two men to come forward.

“Thank you … I’m afraid all … I can … guarantee … you … is a … possible … hangman’s noose.”

West straightened, smiled, and then allowed the director of the National Archives to answer for them both. “A noose doesn’t sound that scary, Doctor. Have you ever been a bureaucrat?”

“It’s quite boring, I assure you,” Sanford finished.

ONE HUNDRED NAUTICAL MILES EAST OF

PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

The C-130 Hercules made a sharp turn to the starboard as the Air Force transport awaited clearance to enter Hawaiian airspace. The trip across the Pacific had been fraught with choppy weather and high winds. The main reason for that was the combat altitude they flew since leaving Edwards Air Force Base in the high desert of Southern California. The Hercules never once rose above two thousand feet of altitude, necessitating the extended flight time. They had four extra flight crews on board for relief because of the strain caused by flying so low an altitude.

The skies had been cleared of all civilian aircraft and the world travelers were not at all happy about that as people were all stuck in differing ports of call with no way to get home. The Air Force knew if they had any idea just what could be waiting for them they wouldn’t complain that much. Thus far the only thing the Hercules radar had picked up was the many combat air patrols the navy was running to protect the Seventh Fleet that had hightailed it out of Pearl two days before.

Strapped in his seat and dozing, Henri Farbeaux had relieved himself of his French Army uniform and replaced it with the desert BDUs—battle dress uniforms—of the United States Army. The only difference was the small French flag on the left breast. The colonel had slept through some of the roughest air of the flight.

Jack Collins, now dressed the same as Henri, and replete with two black stars on his collar, read from a thick file that had been delivered to him, left by a Pentagon courier at Edwards before they departed. Jack took a deep breath, then unsnapped the seat belt holding him into the barbaric canvas seat. He maneuvered around a few of the resting crew that had been relieved an hour before. The men were worn out and slept soundly. He sat next to Farbeaux and slapped him lightly on the knee. Will Mendenhall stirred across the aisle and moved his cap from his eyes to look at Collins. Jack nodded his head and slapped Henri once more.

The Frenchman woke and yawned. He saw Collins and sat up. Will noticed the Frenchman didn’t look thrilled to awaken to his old enemy staring at him.

“I would prefer to wake up to a beautiful woman, General.” He straightened up and yawned again.

“Yes, I suspect you would.”

“Are we there yet?” he asked.

“Almost.” Jack opened the folder and then waved Will over. “I need you to witness this, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.” Mendenhall crossed over and sat on the opposite side of Farbeaux.

“Colonel,” Jack held out an official looking document, “before the attack at Camp David, the president signed an order.” He gave the paper to Farbeaux. “This order was also countersigned by the French president.”

“Two men that are at this very moment very possibly dead?” Henri said with a smirk.

“Possibly,” Jack answered. “But that doesn’t make this piece of paper any less enforceable. It is a binding and legal document.”

Henri Farbeaux looked it over and his brows rose.

“Basically it absolves you of all crimes on U.S. and French soil. The price of this is your complete and utter cooperation in the aforementioned Operation Overlord.”

“Why such an honor, General Collins?” He saw Mendenhall roll his eyes.

“It was actually my idea. The alternative was seeing you taken away in handcuffs for immediate prosecution for crimes against both nations, and then for whatever nation was willing to wait in line to get at you.”

“I see. Am I supposed to say thank you?” he asked with not so much as a small smile.

“No, Colonel, you are not.” Jack closed the large file and sat back. “It was either you die in prison, or—”

“Die somewhere else?” he said, cutting Jack off.

“Exactly. But I’ll profess that your fate will be no different from mine or Will’s. I need you, Colonel, for what … I don’t know yet. But I suspect it will be dirty and in your field of expertise. You are going to be my dirty-deeds man, along with your duties as my chief of staff.”

“Oh, joy.” Henri folded the paper and placed in the large breast pocket. “Have you any idea what it is we’re assigned to?” Even Mendenhall leaned forward, hoping for an answer.

“Not a thing, other than we are a part of a fast-reaction force of very special soldiers.”

“Special? You mean expendable?”

Jack smiled and then relaxed. “All soldiers are expendable, Colonel, you know that.”

“That’s why I got out of the business and went to freelancing.”

“And look how good that turned out,” Will said with an even bigger smile. Then he looked at the silver eagles on the man’s collar and decided that maybe chiding him wasn’t the best idea at the moment. For all he knew the Frenchman had stolen a gun from one of his guards earlier.

As they relaxed an airman came forward with his mic cable dangling from his flight helmet.

“General, the pilot thought you may want to see this. Right over there on the port side.” The airman moved off back to the flight deck.

The three men moved to one of the few windows on the large transport and looked down. Three miles away was a sight none of them had ever been witness to before.

“Wow, I always wondered what Mr. Everett and Ryan played with when they were with the navy,” Will said.

In battle formation was the entire Seventh Fleet of the United States Navy Pacific Command, with the exception of the far eastern battle squadrons. In the direct center was the USS George Washington, flanked by her entire support group.

“They are scattering to keep the Grays guessing. The president and the other leaders were smart enough to get every warship in the world worth anything at sea at the first sign of trouble. This group is out of Pearl and every other Asian port of call and is now awaiting orders.” Jack returned to his seat as the Hercules started its climb to altitude for landing at Hickam Air Force Base.

As the George Washington battle group steamed beneath them far below, Jack Collins knew that the task force was more than likely headed to the same area of the world where they were destined to fight the war—and the new general had no sound idea where that was.

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Giles Camden was wide awake at three o’clock in the morning. He walked around the Oval Office and paused to look at the ornate rug in front of the Lincoln desk that depicted the seal for the president of the United States. He smiled as he remembered the fight the past six years to occupy this office. Once called the most hated politician in the nation by the left wing and middle of the road newspapers and news outlets, until finally his friends of the more right-wing-leaning news organizations started distancing themselves from him, he now stood on the precipice of complete power. It was now time to consolidate that power.

He walked to the window and looked out at the extensive White House lawn and the many batteries of National Advanced Surface-to-Air Missile Systems (NASAMS) that crowded the green grass. Air Force personnel manned each battery and three companies of Marines had joined the force of capital police and Secret Service agents that stood a watchful eye over all. To cap off the entire defense were fifty Delta Force operatives spread throughout the grounds. The acting president placed his hands inside his pockets and cursed his luck that the very same action of the Grays that placed him inside the Oval Office was also the action that was going to keep him, although temporarily, out of it. The Secret Service director had informed him personally that he was to be moved to a more secure location within the hour. He had only come to express his condolences to the first lady in a more private manner.

Camden sniffed at the rebuke he received when the first lady refused to meet with him for the second time.

He left the window and paced to the boxed and sealed articles of the man he was replacing that were stacked in the far corner of the room. He sneered at the personal effects of the comatose man who had hated him beyond measure. He wanted to kick out at the sealed containers but refrained when a knock sounded at the door and it immediately opened.

A young Secret Service agent stepped aside to allow the new president’s press and public relations team inside. Two men entered and the Secret Service agent left without so much as a word or a glance back. Camden had noticed the tightness of the White House staff and security people toward him since he had arrived that afternoon. He knew he had caused considerable controversy when he abstained from staying at the temporary quarters they had waiting for him at Blair House, and had ordered the immediate transfer to his real offices. The first lady had moved with her children into the suite of rooms next to her husband’s at the hospital.

“Mr. President, we’re getting flak from CNN and NBC Overnight about your hurried entrance into the White House while the nation is still in shock over the attacks. We’re going to take some gut punches on this.”

Camden eyed the two men and then walked to the window, looked out, and then quickly sat down for the first time behind the Lincoln desk.

“I cannot project the power we need with other nations by hiding over at Blair House. For the good of the nation we need to be seen on the job. Besides, the damn Secret Service is moving me to a more secure facility very soon, so CNN and NBC can report that one if they want. In the meantime you people get some fodder of me at the White House and on the job to calm the people.”

“Yes, sir.” The younger of the two journalistic wunderkinds wrote in his notepad. He stopped and then looked up. “We had a call from General Caulfield’s office. He was concerned that your earlier statement undermined the seriousness of the attacks in Japan, Iran, and the International Space Station, by saying that the issues are not as clear cut as they may seem. You stated, without running it by us or your national security advisor, that the attack in Iran was unclear at this point as to who was involved or responsible. That the situation was still unclear because of a possible coup attempt by Ahmadinejad.”

The second man walked to one of the two couches and pulled a Washington Post from his briefcase. “Also, that an ‘accident’ had occurred on the space platform. Mr. President, it has leaked out everywhere that the so-called incident was actually recorded by Space Command. There is direct evidence undermining your statements.”

“Gentlemen, we need to slow this thing down until we get a grasp of what is really happening.”

The two young press gurus exchanged looks.

“Sir, wouldn’t it be wise to continue the military policy of the former staff and cabinet at this time? If anything goes wrong no one would hold you responsible. But if it goes right, you can take the lion’s share of the accolades.”

Camden stood and faced the men with his best Harry Truman pose as he leaned over with fists planted firmly on the desktop.

“From what I understand of this so-called plan of the former administration, we were to strip our defenses here at home and support operations overseas if the main attack occurs there. This I will not do. This country will not be attacked while our forces are out protecting former antagonists.”

“But sir—”

“That’s all, gentlemen. Please have a press release in my hands by no later than airtime for the morning shows to broadcast. I want to make it clear that we are responding accordingly and that the American people will be protected—so much so that I am going to partially lift the no-fly ban in the continental U.S. no later than noon today.” He smiled. “After all, America needs to go to work, don’t they? Now, you two find out from the Secret Service just where it is they are going to hide me, and get that statement prepared.”

The two young men stood and with one last look back at Camden, nodded their heads and left the office.

The younger of the two ran a hand through his hair and then looked at Camden’s secretary, who looked as fresh as the morning as she glared at them. Then he eyed the Air Force colonel sitting in a chair against the wall. He was holding a large aluminum briefcase. The young press secretary knew that the briefcase was called “the football”; inside it were the codes the president needed to launch the nuclear weapons under his direct command. He took his partner by the arm and steered him away when he too was caught looking at the officer. The Secret Service detail looked them over and immediately dismissed them, then stepped to the Oval Office door and opened it.

“Ten minutes, Mr. President.” The man closed the door and eyed the two press men closely as they moved away from the door and into the hallway.

“Do you know what that little meeting reminded me of?” the press secretary asked as he looked around him to make sure no one was in earshot.

“I can think of a few things,” the taller of the two said as he tossed the edition of the Washington Post in the trash receptacle.

“The last few days inside the bunker in Berlin. Why, I would—”

“That’s enough; we both know that our new acting president has ears everywhere.”

“That’s what I mean, my friend. This is a little frightening and this is no game that’s going on out there. An accident on the space station? Unclear what really happened in Iran? If he keeps that up he won’t have a military friend left in the country, because even those he’s influenced over the years will run for cover.”

“Well, come on, we have to go play Joseph Goebbels and get this press release ready.”

The younger of the two got a pained look on his face.

“Oh, that was a low blow.”

MUMBAI, INDIA

In the late afternoon the populace of India’s largest city went about their routine in the crowded confines of that nation’s most advanced and cultured metropolis. Home to its entertainment industry, and with its natural deep-water port, it was also the commercial center for the entire country. With a population of over thirteen million people it easily outsized the nation’s capital, New Delhi, by many millions.

Lieutenant Colonel Rahim Rajiv was on leave from the Indian Air Force and was in the city to visit his ailing mother. He had just left her small apartment and was waiting on a cab inside the crowded market district of the city. He saw a taxi a block down and started waving his hand. He was in uniform but that didn’t mean much inside India, as the military was not very popular and never had been among the vast population of the country. The men and women of India would never understand the expenditures of the government in the pursuit of new ways to kill their fellow man—even with the threat of Pakistan on their doorstep. The cab approached and then slowed and then immediately sped up and passed the uniformed colonel. He frowned and started searching for another when the loud rumble sounded far above the skyscrapers of the city.

Thousands of pedestrians and street vendors bent low as thunder boomed in a clear evening sky. Rajiv flinched as the rumble subsided and managed a look upward. Streaks of lightning suddenly lit up the sky, forcing the colonel to duck his head again, this time behind a cart of fresh fruit. He again looked skyward and saw that dark clouds were beginning to form out of the clear evening air. He frowned as he watched, thinking this weather pattern was anything but normal. The clouds went from white and fluffy to dark and menacing in a matter of mere seconds. He stood and walked out into the street, causing traffic to stop. People were honking horns and screaming obscenities at him as he watched the clouds start to rotate in a counterclockwise motion.

“What the hell?” He shaded his eyes as electrical discharges started in earnest. Yellow and white bolts streaked across the sky as the cloud cover intensified. The wind began and he lost his saucer cap, but didn’t notice as many more people started to leave their vehicles to witness the strange weather.

The clouds turned dark and then the first hailstone struck his exposed head. He ducked under a theater marquee as the hail pummeled cars and people as they broke for cover. The wind had increased to fifty plus miles per hour and the clouds continued to form what looked like a hurricane above the city. Only this formation was defined and clear and looked like a special effect from some multimillion-dollar science fiction film.

The colonel started to get a cold feeling in his stomach as the lightning increased in intensity. Blue, red, and yellow streaks that resembled no electrical storm he had ever seen before struck the tall spires of the city’s skyscrapers. He estimated the rotating clouds that were swirling above Mumbai were at approximately twenty thousand feet. He pulled his cell phone from his uniform jacket and punched in the number for his air force base just outside the city. The phone didn’t ring and as he looked down the lighted screen went dark, just as the power to the multitude of buildings blinked once and then went out.

A tremendous rumbling sounded and he heard a woman scream. She was soon joined by others as the lightning started striking the street and buildings around them. Colonel Rahim kneeled low as the most horrid sound he had ever heard pierced the dark skies above his head. It was like a deep, bass tuba had gone wild. The sound reverberated and shook the large buildings around him. He felt the sound through the soles of his shoes and then it broke windows in those same structures. He placed his hands over his ears as the tuba sound increased. It was joined by an ear-splitting crack, and as he looked up his eyes widened in terror as the first of six saucers broke through the bottom of the hurricane-like formation. Each time one was seen flying out of the extreme hole that had formed in the swirling mass above, the tuba sound and reverberation echoed, ear-splitting decibels tearing through the city. Six of the metallic saucers broke free and immediately spread over the city with Mach 1 speed.

Men and women started to panic and break their cover as the hail and noise increased. Men fell in their scramble to move someplace, anyplace other than where they were. Then the sound went dead. As Rahim looked up he was pushed to the ground by an air pressure wave that flattened everyone in the city who had been standing. Glass shattered and even the headlights on cars burst as the pressure changed so rapidly that the atoms that made up the glass broke free of one another.

Then the colonel saw it. A massive saucer, larger than three city blocks, broke free of the wormhole and as it did it took most of the clouds down with it. The ship was so large that the storm accompanied it through the atmosphere. Rajiv braced himself as best he could against an iron fire hydrant as the giant saucer fell through the sky and slammed into the tallest buildings in the direct center of the city. The buildings were crushed under the weight of the great saucer as it pancaked the Reliance Communications skyscraper at the heart of Mumbai. Two hundred buildings next to it disintegrated as the extreme weight of the saucer exploded into the city. It came to rest, crushing the lives of two hundred thousand people in the rubble of the skyscrapers.

The six smaller saucers split apart. While three of them hovered over the city-sized ship, the other three made for the Port of Mumbai and splashed into the deep water. The wave they created capsized three container ships tied to the largest dock in the world. They were smashed by the sea and sent to the bottom.

Colonel Rajiv stood, his head bleeding from ten large cuts and his eardrums burst. He looked at the devastation around him and knew the world had changed forever.

The lightning decreased and the cloud cover started to dissipate. As the city started to rise from the dust and the flying and falling rubble, the screams of people could be heard and then the panic started.

One of the largest cities on planet earth was now under Gray attack.

THE PENTAGON

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The extreme size of the Pentagon situation room was alight with massive projected high-definition screens that showed the world as it was on that first day. Army, navy and air force personnel manned every console in the theater-style complex inside the fourth ring of the building. The center was located sixteen floors beneath the hustle and bustle far overhead.

Marine Corps four-star general Stanley Roquefort stood on the upper balcony at a large glass podium and watched the main console in the center of the room. He saw the swirling weather pattern over western India start to dissipate. He pursed his lips and almost reached for the red phone beside the podium, but held his hand in check as he tried to see far beyond the national weather service satellite. He cursed under his breath as his vision was limited to nothing more than a cloud of smoke rising above the city of Mumbai. The scene was eerily reminiscent of the images of 9/11 when the twin towers had collapsed. The general’s frustration was evident in his tone. His words were straight but a little louder than he was known for.

“I need Space Command to get me eyes on Mumbai now, not later!” He adjusted his view to the naval assets the United States had in the immediate area and saw that the Nimitz battle group was too far south in the Arabian Sea to get eyes on target. “Do we have an Air Force asset in the area so we can get some drones in the sky?”

His adjutant walked up and handed him a slip of flimsy and he scanned it.

“The only thing we have are Predators and they’re in Afghanistan, too far off at the moment. We’re trying to get Pakistan to get one up in the air but it’s business as usual there. They won’t lift a finger at the moment to assist India until they know what’s going on,” the Air Force colonel said and then moved off.

“I want a full squadron of F-15s from Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan to get into the air with tanker support. I don’t care what territory they invade, I need real-time intel on this ASAP! Tell the goddamn Paks to get the hell out of our way. If they refuse over-flight shoot their aircraft down! Contact Space Command and get me a recon bird retasked for western India, now!”

The men sat at their consoles and started making calls. The projection screens started showing the displacement of the Indian Air Force as they started to scramble their fighters.

“I need Indian naval assets in the Arabian Sea projected. Come on, let’s move!” The general reached for the red phone on his podium. The direct line to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff connected immediately.

“Caulfield,” came the tired voice.

The general was a personal friend and fellow Marine of the chairman; they had served together in both Iraq and Afghanistan and knew each other and how they would react. Both Marine Corps men were not used to having to wait to make decisions.

“Max? Stan. We have an event happening real time in Mumbai. As far as we can see with only weather sats is a smoking hole in the center of the city. Whatever happened, it took out a good portion of downtown. We had a massive weather front that coincides with what we were briefed on to look for. Max, I think this is it.” The general went on to explain what he had ordered done and Caulfield agreed with the decisions thus far. “I recommend we go to DEFCON One and set our overseas status accordingly.”

Caulfield hesitated, which was unlike the general. “No, not at this time. Go to yellow and bring the alert level up, that’s all at this time.”

“India may be calling for assistance at any time. I would like to start to move at least the Nimitz battle group to a northerly station in the Arabian Sea.”

“You have permission to turn the group around, but no action is to be taken at this time. Listen, Stan, we don’t know if this is the only incursion that’s going to happen. So wait, I have to inform the president of what’s taking place. We have had major terror attacks in Afghanistan and the rebels inside Iraq are starting to smell the blood in the water. They think we’re too busy to fight so they are taking advantage. I have to tell the new commander-in-chief, and God knows which direction he’ll come out swinging. This may have a direct effect on our Overlord efforts.”

“Shit, good luck on that one,” he said with a frown. “I wish—”

“There is another severe weather pattern forming over mainland China!” came the loud voice of the weather and atmospheric officer for Asia and Asia Minor. “It looks like we have another event.”

“Hold on, Max.” Roquefort scanned the data streaming across the far-left screen. He again turned to the phone. “We may have another incursion, Max. This one is forming … Oh, shit, it … it’s forming right over Beijing.”

The alarms started sounding and even more military personnel started running to other stations.

“Got to go, Max. Get some clear definition of our orders, especially our ROE when it comes to defending other nations’ territories.” He was asking for direct Rule of Engagement parameters for his overseas commands.

The line went dead but Roquefort was unaware as he lowered the phone. He watched the hurricane-like formation begin in earnest over China.

“God help us.”

BEIJING, CHINA

It was still evening when the multitude of citizens rallied in the streets and squares of the capital. The nation was still in mourning and shock over the sudden death of the president. Signs and posters bearing the man’s likeness were held high in recognition of the forward-thinking man who had replaced a tyrant four years before.

As the million-plus men, women, and children milled the streets, few noticed the surface-to-air batteries as they motored into the city. They did become somewhat apprehensive when the Chinese National Army started to take up positions on every street corner and darkened alley, and hundreds of citizens of China’s capital city thought it was beginning to look as if the acting president was getting ready to start a crackdown on the rights and privileges they had started to receive under their dead leader’s sponsorship.

The attack on Camp David had aired live in China, and most were aware of the devastating news that it was an attack initiated by an extraterrestrial source. Thanks to the advances of the World Wide Web and the country’s new right to use it freely, the idea that the attack had been conducted by an alien enemy was not as farfetched as it had once been. Most citizens had watched in quiet fascination as the president of the United States had explained the timeline of events leading to the historic meeting of the great powers at Camp David.

Xiang Lei, a newspaper reporter for the Xinhua News Agency, the equivalent of the Associated Press, watched the soldiers dispersing into the crowded streets with trepidation. He took out his cell phone to call his editor about the developing deployment of troops inside the capital. As he connected with his office he heard a click and then nothing. He looked at the phone and tried several buttons again. The battery was fully charged but the face of the instrument had gone dark.

“Damn, now’s not the time for this,” he mumbled. He looked around for a phone kiosk. As he did he saw several other men and women trying their phones and he could tell from their reactions and cursing that they were also having trouble. Suddenly the street lights went out and as he looked up he saw that dark clouds had rolled in. There had been rain earlier in the day, but the skies had cleared just before the sun started to set. Now it looked as if the storm was returning. He cursed his luck again and began to walk.

“Look at that,” he heard several people say as he crossed the wide avenue in front of the National Ballet of China. He saw that the many citizens who had been watching the evening performance, along with some of the dance company, had moved out of the large theater and were pointing to the sky. He again looked up and saw that the clouds had doubled in size and were now moving in a slow, counterclockwise pattern against the increasing winds. His hair was tousled by static electricity, and then he felt the first raindrops.

The crash of thunder sounded and he heard the nervous laughter of the few dance troupe members still braving the rain. The clouds increased in size and speed of motion and then the first lightning strikes burst from the formation. Soon a blaring warning sounded that momentarily drowned out the blast and crash of lightning and thunder from above. The air raid sirens that stood dormant since the Vietnam War began to sound. Lightning again flashed as the newspaper man ran for cover.

He turned as the first frightened screams joined with the cacophony of noise as fist-sized hailstones struck men and women as they also started to run for cover. Two million people had been caught in the open and even the soldiers broke and tried desperately to find shelter.

Blue, yellow, and white lightning lit the early evening as if a million large artillery pieces had gone off at one time. Buildings were struck and several hundred mourners died in an instant as the tentacles of electricity reached for the ground. Like fingers of a terrible octopus they reached out and fried anyone near the strikes.

Xiang Lei had to brave the danger to be an eyewitness to the event happening in the capital. As the air raid sirens sounded he stepped out of the protection of a store awning and looked skyward. His eyes widened when he saw the impossible pattern in the sky. The clouds were moving at an incredible rate of speed in that horrifying circular path. Tendrils of dark cumulus broke free of the high winds, dissipated, and then more, darker and thicker clouds formed to take their place. The center was directly overhead and he accidentally let out a moan of despair when he saw stars inside the clear center of swirling moisture.

The deep sound of bass drums and horns seemed to come from everywhere, enough so that he had to cover his ears at the assault. It reverberated through the capital, drowning out the frightened screams of the populace. Windows shattered and dead streetlights burst and fell into the throng of people. Xiang Lei watched in awe at the amazing spectacle. He was bumped and pushed aside as soldiers broke in earnest from their posts. Missile batteries and gun emplacement crews, along with the crews of armored personnel carriers, ran in abject terror.

With a loud explosion of a million bass drums and a vibration the likes of which the newspaper man had never felt, the first saucer broke into the skies over Beijing. It was soon followed by five more. Then the world was turned upside down as the saucers started firing infused-light weapons at specific targets throughout the city. People panicked as they fled into any building they could. Soldiers tried to fight the rising tide of humanity and return to their batteries after being harangued by their officers, but it was too late.

The skies erupted and the swirling clouds burst apart as the largest object Xiang Lei had ever seen fell from the sky. It looked like it wasn’t under any form of power. It fell like a rock. The giant saucer hit the speed of sound just as it struck the China Central Television building and the International Finance Center. The bulk of the massive ship slammed into and crushed the Natural History museum in the center of the city, pounding it to dust along with the accumulated knowledge of five thousand years of Chinese history. The middle and southern seas, lakes that had stood the turbulent test of time at the heart of the city, burst into mist as the saucer came to rest. Steam exploded from the moisture of the large lakes and the waters evaporated in an instant. Fifty square blocks were crushed. A million and half Chinese citizens were crushed or burned to death in the resulting fires.

Xiang Lei never saw the impact of the saucer as the pressure wave preceding the strike had crushed anyone exposed to the sudden downrush of air. His body had turned into a fine mist, blown away on the winds.

Three of the hundred-foot-diameter saucers broke from the city and made for the deep-water port of Tianjin. The three vehicles were fired upon by coastal batteries, twenty-millimeter rounds bursting against the hulls of the speeding ships. The rounds glanced off the smooth surfaces of the metallic saucers. One by one they smashed into the sea. As ships were capsized and dock workers were swept away and killed by the small tsunami created by the impact of the three invaders, the UFOs sank deep into Bohai Bay.

The three remaining saucers came low to the ground, hovering just above the larger object as it continued to settle into the crushed city center beneath.

A loud crack was felt and heard as the top of the giant saucer exploded outward. Cables the thickness of telephone poles burst from the vehicle. On the tip of each was a pointed arrowhead of an anchor as they pierced the evening with a scream. They rose to an altitude of seven thousand feet. The apparatus resembled a basket as it covered the skies. After reaching their highest arc, and then starting down into the outskirts of Beijing, they slammed into the ground, buildings, and homes, and then buried themselves deeply with an explosion of earth, concrete, steel, and humanity.

A half hour after the fall of the giant saucer into the center of Beijing, twenty of China’s latest generation of fighter jets, the Chengdu J-20, overflew the strike area. What the pilots saw was a glowing mass of lines that covered the entire city. The bluish glow emanated from the tendrils of cable that had been launched from the saucer. The entire city looked as if it had been covered in a large woven basket that glowed blue in the darkening skies of China.

The second assault on the planet had taken place. The nations of the world trembled as the true power of the enemy was demonstrated with extreme violence.

SCHOFIELD BARRACKS

HONOLULU, HAWAII

Jack Collins, Will Mendenhall, and Henri Farbeaux had been met at Hickam Air Force Base and escorted by Humvee to Schofield Barracks. As they passed through the main gate they saw elements of the 25th Infantry Division loading gear onto two-and-a-half-ton trucks. It was Farbeaux who noticed that the busiest area they had seen on their drive through the post was the activity at the main armory. Jack also saw but didn’t comment on the fact that the division was loading up live ordance. He also noticed that they were being escorted by four Humvees with the 2nd Stryker Brigade Combat Team designation on the bumpers of the vehicles. He exchanged looks with Will, who just raised his brows from the front seat.

Before they had offloaded from the C-130 Hercules they had been briefed on the events in India and China. Since they had left the west coast of the United States the world had become a battleground.

The five Humvees drove to the oldest section of Schofield and pulled onto a gravel drive that had seen better days. Jack recognized the area as the oldest barracks still standing in the state of Hawaii. The last men to occupy this area left their souls and their lives in the most horrible places on Earth: Bataan; Corregidor; Luzon. The area had not seen live activity since the end of World War II.

Jack stepped out of the back space of the Humvee and started to reach for his bag and briefcase, but was halted by the staff sergeant who had accompanied them from Hickam.

“Sir, we’ll take responsibility for your gear. You’re needed inside ASAP.”

Jack took his briefcase with a nod of his head and without comment as the occupants of the other four Humvees exited with M-4 automatic weapons. They took up station at the front door of the old wooden structure.

“I think the last time I saw one of these old barracks was at a museum at the site of old Fort Ord in Monterey, California,” Will said as he saw the peeling light green and brown paint that once covered the building.

“Hey, my father graduated basic training from there, Captain, watch it,” Jack chided as they were escorted up the old wooden stairs.

“I think you people love old things so much they obviously felt at home bringing you here.” Henri touched the old wooden railing of the stairs and snatched his hand away when he picked up a splinter. “But then again, rank has its privileges,” he grumbled as he followed the two Americans inside the dimly lit and dusty barracks.

Jack stood for a moment and then removed his sunglasses against the dimness of the old building. His sense of history was alive and well as he saw a worn picture of the World War II pinup girl, Betty Grable, back to the camera, looking over her shoulder, in her famous pose that had excited men since 1944. Her legs—the bottom half of the print—were missing.

The sergeant gestured to three chairs in the center of the once green linoleum. As the three men looked around, the sergeant from the 2nd Stryker Combat Team went from window to window and pulled down the hastily installed blinds. He nodded his head and then left the barracks through the back door. The lighting was yellowish and reminded Will of an old classroom, one that he was not particularly comfortable in. A man in a black suit entered and placed a tray of coffee on a small table. Jack quickly noticed he had the credentials of the FBI hanging from his neck. Without a word the man left and the three were left alone.

Henri walked over and poured himself a cup of black coffee, and then returned to his seat. Will also sat but Jack remained standing. Soon two more FBI agents entered, wheeling in a large stand, and set up a fifty-two-inch monitor they plugged into a long extension cord.

As they left they saw a figure enter the main barracks from the old room in the back that used to be the quarters of the platoon drill instructor. The gentleman was short and stocky with a head of distinguished gray hair. He was wearing a brown suit of good style and an old-fashioned bow tie. His glasses were thick and his beard as gray as his hair.

He walked up and studied Jack for a moment, then nodded his head at Mendenhall and Farbeaux.

“As imposing as I was led to believe,” he said in a thick British accent, placing his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels. He smiled and turned his attention to Jack. “I once knew a man, a rather big gentleman, he had the kind of stature that you have. Oh, he was a bear of a man, blind in one eye and mean as a snake. You remind me of him.”

Jack looked down on the man and didn’t say a word, not knowing if he were friend or foe.

“He had the odd name of Garrison, and the poor sot chose a life of military adventure over the thrills of politics many years ago. I believe he ended up running some sort of boring think tank underneath some desert or other in the States. Does this sound familiar to you, General Collins?”

Jack saw the stern look that replaced the smile for the briefest of moments before the friendly grin returned.

“Sir, I have never heard of such a man, and am not aware of any think tank under any desert, in America or any other country.” Jack remained still, watching the man who had just tested him, for what reason he didn’t know. He chanced a glance back at Will and Henri and saw that they were both stone faced.

“Yes, I believe you are just like this man, this Garrison Lee, General Collins.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

“Yes, that’s a position I prefer, but alas I don’t have the luxury of time to play my little games.” He held out a soft hand for Jack to shake. “In my country I am known as Lord Harrison Durnsford, of Her Majesty’s MI6.”

Jack shook his hand and then released the manicured fingers. He gestured to the two men seated behind him as Mendenhall and Farbeaux stood. Henri continued to sip his coffee with his cold blue eyes on the English lord, one of the queen’s spies.

“May I introduce Captain—”

“Newly promoted Captain William Mendenhall.” He shook Will’s hand. “A soldier who has risen through the regular army ranks, which I admire very much.” Lord Durnsford slowly turned to face the Frenchman. “And this is Colonel Henri Farbeaux, a man I am most familiar with, as he has recently been absolved of many, many crimes inside the borders of the Empire. I learned to become a grand admirer of your exploits, Colonel, even though my organization once had a kill order out on you.”

Henri sat his coffee on the vacated chair and stepped forward to shake the Englishman’s hand. Jack noticed he remained quiet, as a man under scrutiny should.

Lord Durnsford turned his attention back to Jack. “General, we have little time before your rather dangerous flight to the south. I pulled my strings and then even stamped my feet to get this meeting with you before your departure.”

“Well, then, I guess you won out,” Jack said as he sat down in his chair.

The man from MI6 again rocked on his heels and waited for Jack to get comfortable.

“Gentlemen, it is most fitting that our first meeting takes place here. After all, it was at this very post and at the naval base in the harbor that World War II started for the American race, and most fitting that your war begins here also.”

Henri felt the setup even before Jack did. Mendenhall knew something was up but wasn’t sure what it was.

“Gentlemen, since the assault on your Camp David, we have lost the services of not only the driving force behind Operation Overlord, the president, but also a man we now know will be desperate for support from the world—the president of China. The German chancellor was officially pronounced dead at three A.M. These men were three very important cogs in the alliance.”

Lord Durnsford paced away from the three attentive men and then lowered his head with his hands still behind his back, like a college instructor lecturing a group of students, which was exactly what Jack felt like. Henri was taking it like he did when he was in War College in France—bored. He took a drink of his coffee.

“Gentlemen, the alliance will not stand in the face of these attacks.” Durnsford turned and gave the three a tentative smile. “My department says so, and so does your CIA, or at least the director of said agency. The biggest threat outside of the Gray incursion is the acting president of the United States. We surmise that this … gentleman will not fulfill his obligation as laid down by the men before him. He will call it ‘national priorities,’ of course, and most likely he will ask for and receive the backing of the American people in this time of crisis. He is very persuasive that way.”

“Lord Durnsford, we know and understand what the temporary man in the White House is capable of. He’s a hawk and lover of the military, but only when it suits his needs. He will make friends very quickly in the halls of the Pentagon with men of equal ambitions.”

“As I said, General, you are Senator Lee’s double, or at the very minimum, related to him in some way. Well, we have an answer for him.” He pulled a gold pocket watch from his vest and snapped it open. “We are short of time, so I will not beat around the proverbial bush as you Americans like to say. The director of your … think tank, Dr. Niles Compton, is a very dear friend of mine, one I have had many run-ins with, but a man immensely respected in my offices. You, General Collins, are the answer to the alliance falling apart—a little more so since the Camp David incident.”

Jack was stunned that this English lord knew about Niles Compton just as he claimed to know Garrison Lee, but he remained silent, not revealing his surprise.

“He foresaw this happening in the event something took place—not that he predicted the attack and the succession of power in your country. He was my friend and if we lose him we have lost one of the best hopes for our world. You gentlemen will be tasked to end the threat against us with a volunteer force of the best-trained and well-equipped soldiers in the world. You will have men selected from most nations on Earth that will be dedicated to the destruction of our enemy, and not even their own governments can pull them back. They are even now awaiting you at your final destination.”

“Your brief is as confusing as the past four days, Lord Durnsford.” Jack again looked at his watch, wanting to get to the secure computer center located at the headquarters building. He was hoping Pete Golding had fulfilled a small request he had asked of him and his supercomputer, Europa.

“Calm, General, I have arranged your phone call with your young Lieutenant McIntire.” Durnsford gave Collins a look over the top of his glasses. “I suspected you would wish to know your people are safe. They are—at least for the moment, as they are transiting some quiet waters. Their ordeal will soon start as our little ruse to get them free of the North Atlantic has worked, but I’m afraid the Grays will catch on eventually and the very power plant they are escorting will lead the Grays straight to your friends. I suspect a rather large engagement at sea before too long.”

Will looked at Jack. The concern for Sarah and Ryan was evident.

“I suspect you will keep that to yourself when you speak. Remember, I am granting you this privilege, General.”

With one nod of his head Jack knew he was cornered and could not warn Sarah and Ryan what might be coming.

Durnsford reached into a coat pocket and used a small remote to activate the large monitor that had been set up. Two split-screen views of the attack zones in Mumbai and Beijing illuminated and they saw that they were live views.

“Your Lieutenant McIntire and the others are transiting the sea in one of the most powerful warships afloat, and they will meet other, even more impressive assets the closer they get to their destination.” Durnsford again looked at his watch and then snapped it closed. “I am sure I have confused you enough. I just need a man like you to know, General, because you are known to follow your orders to the letter.” He smiled at the three men before him. “At least to a point, and that is the point I wish to expand on.” He leaned over and looked Collins in the face and became deadly serious. “No matter what orders you receive to the contrary, General, you and your men will do the job that is assigned to you. You will possibly be pressured by higher influences, even be threatened with courts-martial and death; be called a traitor to your nation, as will the men under you. But stay the course, General, stay the course. If you do, the odds of our world climbing out of this bloody mess will increase a thousandfold. Far worse than the view you see here.” The small British spy gestured at the two smoldering cities.

Jack knew he was talking about the changes at the highest levels of government in his, and other nations. That deals had been struck in order to make Matchstick’s grand plan of Overlord become reality. He also knew that he would come down on the side of Niles, Lee, and—as he looked at the small man before him—Lord Durnsford.

“Stay the course, no matter what, General.” He finally smiled as he toyed with his pocket watch. “If I’m still breathing, and if needed, I promise I’ll have your court-martial littered with sympathetic ears. You still may be shot, but you’ll receive a much better last meal.”

Mendenhall looked at Henri and then Collins and shook his head. “I knew this Hawaii thing wasn’t going to last.”

“Precisely, young captain.” Durnsford opened his watch and looked at the time. “Gentlemen, good luck and God’s speed. You have a rather large Galaxy transport aircraft to catch and again you have to fly rather low to the ground. You may make your phone call enroute, General.”

With that Lord Durnsford nodded his head toward the back of the room and a door was opened. With one last sad smile and nod of his head the man from MI6 turned and left.

The three men stood as a man gestured for them to follow him outside. And again it was Will who put things into proper perspective, as young soldiers usually do.

“I am so very glad we now know what’s happening and are totally clear on our mission,” he said in mock understanding as he placed his cap on his head. “I think they are out to kill us in the most dramatic way possible.” He looked at Farbeaux with a sour look. “And why do I think hanging out with you, Henri, has something to do with it?”

“For the first time since I’ve known you, Captain, I find myself in total agreement. I understand nothing.” Henri turned toward Jack. “I imagine it’s far too late to accept that invitation for that long stay at your Leavenworth prison?”

Jack shook his head. “I think it’s too late for a lot of things, Colonel.”

MUMBAI, INDIA

2200 HOURS

One hundred Russian-manufactured Su-27SK “Flanker” fighter aircraft flew at Mach 1 toward their designated target, which was entrenched at the center of Mumbai. The entirety of the strike force was going to lay waste to the four targets painted on their radar screens. The flight leader of the strike orbited at twenty-seven thousand feet in an Airbus A20 radar and defense aircraft, a cheaper variant of the American AWAC. It was on the Airbus where the air assault would be coordinated.

The large saucer had deployed the same apparatus as the vehicle in China. It was glowing a soft blue hue in the dark nighttime skies. And thus far all attempts at breaching the defense shield had been fruitless. Probes by the thirteen infantry divisions deployed around Mumbai had found that any form of contact with the alien cable network had been met with no resistance or event.

The airstrike was in support of elements of the 50th Parachute Regiment (Special Forces) and the full force of the 411th (Independent) Parachute Field Company (Bombay Sappers) who had been on station since the incident began six hours before. The infantry divisions would be the follow-up strike after the Sappers had gained the interior of the alien shielding.

The 411th Bombay Sappers had started testing the thick cables that had been buried deeply into the ground since ten that evening. The barricade was crisscrossed in three-foot squares and the Sappers thought they could get the entire regiment through under the cover of the Air Force fighters when they arrived. The fence had been tested and thus far appeared dormant. It looked as if it was just a steel cable fence. They had managed to get over four thousand of the city’s residents out through the less than formidable shield. One of the regiment’s helicopters had even managed to land on the structure and thus far had repeated the maneuver sixteen times in differing areas, giving them hope that when the airstrikes began they could blast holes through the steel “basket” and bring in the many attack choppers of the 125th Aviation Battalion that had been quickly recalled from the Pakistani border.

General Jai Bajaj, commander of the combined 1st and 3rd Armored Divisions, stood atop the tallest building outside of the city. The American-owned Century Records Building was thirty-five stories tall and afforded him an excellent view of the city and the giant saucer sitting in its crushed and still-smoking city center. The utility companies had arranged emergency lighting and over five thousand high-powered spotlights were illuminating the giant craft.

The general moved his glasses to the streets below and saw over two hundred of India’s newest main battle tanks, the Arjun Mark II. They were joined by four hundred Tarmour AFV armored personnel carriers with over three thousand men awaiting orders to advance into the city. They would be his spearhead.

“Inform the strike coordinator to start the air attack, please,” the general said as he moved the glasses to the caged-in city. “This ought to provoke a response,” he said under his breath.

The glow of the giant “basket” remained constant and the Sappers lining its outside started using cutting torches to break their way in while army tunnel teams began digging underneath the shielding. Men stood at the ready as the sparks of hundreds of torches shone around the entire circumference of the three-square-mile shield as Sappers started to penetrate the pretty but ineffective cage.

The shriek of jet engines pierced the clear sky above as the Indian Su-27 fighters made their initial runs on the center of the city. Their target was the very center of the large saucer on the two-city-block-wide upper dome. One by one the incredibly fast fighters dove on the target ten thousand feet below. The general had chills as he watched the Air Force start its music from above.

The initial weapons to be released by the first ten aircraft were the latest in Indian technology: the Sudarshan laser-guided bomb. The commander watched the sky but all he could see was the ten fighters as they swooped low and then climbed after releasing their loads. Immediately cheers erupted around him as two of the bombs struck the thick steel mesh and detonated high above their target with a bright flash of explosive force. The rest of the eight laser munitions penetrated the cable shield and struck the enormous saucer directly on its top-most section where the giant cables had deployed from earlier. More cheers sounded as men saw what looked like large chunks of the vehicle fly skyward.

“That’s it!” the general yelled as loud as the men around him. “If you want to just sit there and take it, we will accommodate you!” he yelled enthusiastically.

Three more of the weapons made it through the mesh while others detonated far above the saucer. More cheers. The general switched his view to the men using cutting torches far below. It looked as if they were making good progress.

“Armored lines three and four, open fire!” he called out. “Artillery, commence fire!”

His radioman immediately made the call and an instant later the main battle tanks of the Indian Army started their barrage as the first line of tanks started firing point-blank into the shield where they detonated, ripping huge holes in the pattern. More aerial bombs fell; these were the old-fashioned dumb iron bombs that hit everything—saucer, buildings, and even the smaller alien vehicles that were there to protect the larger. The one thousand artillery pieces of the Indian army opened fire from the small rises of hills around the city and from the docks of the city.

Explosions rang out loudly throughout Mumbai to the cheers of the infantry soldiers waiting to breach the iron shield.

General Jai Bajaj watched as the top dome of the larger saucer seemed to be withering under the onslaught of pinpoint bombing. He saw pieces flying high into the sky and was hoping it was the material the craft was made of and not just the shrapnel from the old-fashioned iron bombs.

“Our Sapper units report that they have opened sixteen gaps in the shield and ask permission to enter in force,” his adjutant said, holding the phone close to his ear.

“Permission granted. Order the cease-fire of all aerial bombardment and get me my paratroops on top of that shield for entry from above, now!”

The adjutant passed on the order and the general moved his field glasses toward the base of the enemy shield. He couldn’t believe an advanced race of beings would ever think that a wire fence would keep his forces from entering the city. He hissed approval as he watched elements of the 1st and 3rd armored regiments start to pour through the gaps in the line.

“Inform the prime minister that we have breached the enemy defenses and are advancing into the city. No enemy resistance thus far detected.”

The information was passed on to Delhi as the troops entered the holes the Sappers had cut.

“Okay, gentlemen, get the first element of tanks through as soon as the holes are widened.”

Overhead, four of the Indian Air Force’s mighty transport planes, the Russian-built IL-76 aircraft, started to disgorge the airborne units of the proud military. Some units were designated to land on the shield cables and place explosives, then rappel down to the top of the saucer’s dome and the surviving buildings of the city. The remaining units would penetrate the shield directly from the air and land atop the vehicle and place charges at the anchor points of the cables, the direct apex of the center-most dome. The Indian army and air forces were about to take the fight directly to this barbaric enemy. The airborne units would be supported by the armor of two full divisions. The general estimated full incursion in less than thirty minutes.

“There they are,” his adjutant said as he pointed to the first chutes of falling airborne. The white of their canopies shone brightly in the light-blue haze of the enemy shield and the reflection off the saucer of the thousand high-powered spotlights.

“Excellent,” the general said as he turned his glasses skyward. The powerful main battle tanks that remained outside of the steel-like fence kept up their fire. Rounds were now striking the three hovering saucers and it looked as if they were being rocked by the detonations against their hulls. The general watched as the leading saucer in front of the larger platform wobbled, and then straightened as two armor piercing dart-like Sabot rounds caught it along the centerline mass. He was amazed it recovered so quickly, straightening and then rising back into formation.

“They won’t last long after our infantry and airborne troops start hitting them with Dragon Missiles.”

More cheers sounded from below as men started pouring through the widened gaps in the shield.

Before anyone realized what was happening, the shield went brilliant blue. Men caught entering the gaps in the line immediately ceased to exist, vanishing micro-seconds before they could even feel the searing heat that caused their deaths. The holes that had been cut in the cables started to regenerate and connect once again with the squares of cable directly above, beneath, and at the sides. The system of defense was actually healing itself, looking like growing snakes as they regenerated and connected once more. It was as if the cables were living things that had sprung to life.

General Bajaj’s heart skipped a beat as he turned his attention to the falling chutes of his airborne. His fingers tightened on the field glasses as men started to land on the upper portion of the shield. In magnificent flashes of blue and white light his brave men started bursting into flame. As he zoomed in the general could see that it wasn’t the men flaring and burning, but their clothing and equipment. The flesh of his soldiers had immediately turned to ash as they hit the shield. They were being exterminated just as bugs in an electrically charged zapper would be when they ventured too close. All around the city above and below the shield was healing itself and his infantry started disintegrating by the thousands before his eyes.

As he shook in rage at the enemy ruse, he heard as well as saw the three smaller saucers start to move over the city. He watched as the round vehicles started to fire on his infantry inside and outside the shield. Large bursts of an energy weapon, the likes of which he had never seen before, started blowing men apart from their insides. They exploded as if they had swallowed a grenade. The few tanks that had entered the city were cut in half and the men inside died in the resulting explosions of their ordnance. The large saucer also flared to killing life as thick, purplish light fired from the upper dome. The sky illuminated with exploding and falling aircraft, both fighters and the transports that were still dropping men from their doors. The defense by the saucers was like watching a western light show as bolt after bolt of energy was cut loose.

“Oh, no, no, no,” his adjutant said as he gestured wildly toward the bottom half of the large saucer.

Large doors that were at least a thousand feet wide slowly opened and large rounded shapes of chromed steel rolled out like balls from a pinball machine. Thousands of the objects rolled through and over the rubble of the buildings, surprising the three hundred men who had gotten close to the seemingly dormant craft. The soldiers started hitting the rolling machines with small-arms fire and then fifty-caliber weaponry from the few armored personnel carriers nearby. That seemed to stop them. The general had his hopes raised only momentarily as the sixteen-foot-diameter balls stopped suddenly as if they were stuck in the asphalt of the street and the crumbling concrete of the destroyed buildings; then they sprang open like an animal trap. His eyes widened further when he saw that the balls had expanded to manlike shapes. The automatons were chromed steel monsters. Their bulk was tremendous as their heavy weapons started to open up on his exposed troops. The machines were firing high impact, exploding kinetic rounds directly into flesh. Men were exploding into bright red bursts of mist as they were struck.

“Look!” men started shouting from their vantage point of safety outside the shield.

The general looked through his glasses as the Grays showed themselves for the first time. They charged through the open portals in a mass concentration, but didn’t start attacking the remaining ground forces inside the shield. They charged directly into the standing office buildings and apartments that were abundant in Mumbai. They streamed into homes, the subway, and other places of sanctuary where the population had taken shelter.

“What are they doing?” his adjutant asked in a stupefied and frightened voice.

The tall, thin Grays, dressed in their purplish clothing and carrying long weapons of a sort that was unknown to the soldiers, entered the buildings by the thousands and to everyone’s horror they started dragging people from the safety of their homes and places of work where they thought they had survived the opening assault. They were pushed and rounded up like herds of sheep and made to walk, crawl, or die. The Grays were taking them into the large ship thousands at a time.

The general lowered his field glasses and felt his blood run cold. The enemy had lain in wait just to demonstrate their power. Now he didn’t know what the enemy plan was. The metal machines walked on two legs and started to track down his men who had escaped the initial confrontation; they too were taken by the hundreds. They were dug out of small pockets where they fired their weapons to no effect. He saw several of the walking machines go down after being struck by the old Dragon Missiles given to India by the Unites States, but he saw that the remaining men would not have a chance of taking down thousands of the evil, mechanized brutes. They were slaughtering men at every street corner and every hastily prepared position, even as the citizens of Mumbai were being dragged into the large saucer.

The carnage continued above as well. Airborne troops, who had managed to start their assault by rappeling down lines, were shot by laser fire and burst into small fireflies of flame by the gunnery located at the top dome of the large saucer. They fell like embers from a bonfire until their remains littered the top of the dome.

The shield glowed brighter than ever as the power of the grid increased, causing his tanks that had come too close to melt under the intense heat of the mesh-like cage. Men jumped from their burning and melting armor and were cut down by the mechanized monstrosities that were now at the shield wall, firing into soldiers and equipment that were still outside the trapped city.

The main strike force, the most powerful assault element ever assembled by an Indian army in the field, and its proud air force had been defeated in less than fifteen minutes after the enemy had shown itself for the first time.

The largest city in India was delivered to the Grays with the loss of over eighteen thousand men and forty thousand tons of equipment, and the Indian air force had virtually ceased to exist.

Mumbai was now lost to the world and its millions of citizens taken for reasons that would shake the planet to its eternal core.