Overrun (13 page)

Within hours, there wouldn’t be
any trace. Most of it would immediately burn to ash when the morning sun
finally came.

General Maxwell Tuttle turned
away from the command room holovid screens he was watching through his giant
office windows just in time to see War Minister Peter Faulken enter the
operations center.

He had never met the man before,
but he was quite aware of who he was and what he was like.

Tuttle rubbed at the sudden pain
that flashed across his forehead and stepped backwards to sit at his desk.

Without a word or introduction,
Faulken sat down in a chair in front of him. He folded his hands across his lap
and paused briefly before starting to speak.

"General, I've been sent by
the President to personally advise you of the current state of national affairs
we now find ourselves in. I will then assist in guiding you in your
operations."

A young command room tech stuck
his head into the room holding a tray of sandwiches and coffee. With a
dismissive wave of his hand, Tuttle chased him away before he could step past
the entrance. The tech set the small metallic tray on a cabinet near the door.

Faulken waited with a feigned
look of tolerance while Tuttle walked past him to retrieve the food.

"General Tuttle, Plan Zero
is going about as well as can be expected."

Tuttle returned to his desk with
his food and sat down.

"We have neutralized
approximately ninety-eight entire legions of invading J.G.U. troops. That's
about 100,000 men. And we have you to thank for that."

"And the civilian numbers,
sir?" Tuttle took a slow careful chew from a sandwich. “Do you have an
assessment on that?”

Tuttle forced himself not to
swallow the entire thing whole. It had been more than thirty-six hours since he
had eaten last.

"You've been well brought
into the loop on the necessities of Plan Zero, General," Faulken answered
him. "A civilian count is not being kept. It does not exist. We are doing
what needs to be done to achieve our objectives.”

“And what might those be?”
Tuttle asked lowly.

“To win the war of course,”
Faulken answered quickly. “To defeat an invading army.”

"So if we kill everybody,
who are we really trying to protect?"

“The sacrifices being made
ensure our objectives.”

Tuttle stared at him coolly
across his desk.

"Everything is proceeding
as planned, General." Faulken leaned forward menacingly. Tuttle could
almost feel himself being impaled by Faulken’s dark glare. “Is that
understood?”

"Yes, sir," Tuttle
said quietly.

"Very well," Faulken
recovered himself quickly and eased back in his seat.

"Our situation is this.
Plan Zero is, as far as kill ratios are concerned, heading in the right
direction. We have neutralized about one third of the J.G.U.'s troop force
already. They, like us, only have a limited number of healthy men living over
there. But we have a lot more. Our resources far exceed what is necessary to
outlast them in this fight."

Tuttle's eyebrows raised
slightly at this remark.

"It'll never come to that,
General. We're right where we want to be in terms of the plan and its
objectives. The old cities of Boston, New York and Miami have been utilized to
their maximum capacities in terms of mission success."

"You mean they were destroyed…,"
Tuttle’s voice was starting to become hot.

“Miami was the last to go,”
Faulken cut him off. “About the same time your teams finished in Seattle.
Despite the success of both ops, the J.G.U. are still heavily concentrated on
both coasts. So far we've been able to prevent them from coming further in.
Just like we knew we could. The domes are still relatively undiscovered.
Overall they’re still considered safe. Everything is proceeding as
expected."

"Not everything is
proceeding as expected, War Minister,” Tuttle replied dryly. “Not from where I
watch.”

"You’re right, General. Not
everything. And that is why the President has sent me here. It seems numerous
complications have presented themselves in this quadrant and on this
coast."

"Good goddamn it man!"
Tuttle’s anger flashed. “How the fuck should something like this be expected to
go?!”

“You are losing men.”

“Yes, we’re losing men,” Tuttle
spoke in a nearly quiet rage. “We are all losing men. Every bomb that goes off.
This country is losing men…and a great more than that.”

"General," Faulken
came back commandingly. "What is going on here, it cannot occur. If things
don’t go as we’ve designed, this war could easily not be won.”

“You don’t think I know that?”
Tuttle’s voice became very low. His temper flared further.

"A lot has become of your
quadrant, General Tuttle. A lot has come to rest on what you now defend. The
J.G.U. has moved dangerously close to the area surrounding Science Dome 15. The
significance of that facility is great. Especially considering what is housed
there.”

“I know it’s significance,”
Tuttle said quickly back.

“Failing to neutralize Beuford
is quite a problem. If we lose that dome, it will most likely be something we
won’t be able to overcome."

"I am quite aware of that
War Minister," Tuttle's voice leveled off and became curt.

"I need to make a full
assessment and bring it back to the President. Once all mission logs and battle
plans have been reviewed and analyzed, we will decide how we are going to bring
you more men. To replace the teams you’ve allowed to be lost.”

Tuttle’s face seared a brilliant
red, and his eyes flashed hotly.

“After everything that has
happened, I’m also here to determine whether you should be allowed to retain
your command."

"You go back to the
President!” Tuttle raged. “Go back right goddamn now and tell him! Tell him
that today we’ve had fifty-two assault helicopters ambushed and gone down. All
their crews lost. Along with them the entire Vulture team headed for the
science dome facility.

"That’s more than three
hundred elite tactical personnel capable of handling the explosives now dead.
When you count the chopper crews, it goes up more than a hundred more. Beuford
is still standing. And the J.G.U. now hold an almost impenetrable stranglehold
on the entire city.

“Danger to Science Dome 15 is
alarmingly great. Not only of being discovered. But of becoming an instant
overrun. Troops are massing. They are fortifying the city beyond belief as we
speak.

“There is not one thing that
could have happened or been ordered to prevent all that!” Tuttle’s voice burned.
“Not when our operations are such as they are. Whether on this coast or the
next. It was bound to happen somewhere. And it happened here. Take that back to
the President! Make sure to relay it all. This goddamn plan. It is anything but
working."

"You have contributed to
what we all fear,” Faulken replied coolly. “By the colossal failures this
country has sustained under your command. You’ve lost a great number of
specially trained men. Each Vulture death is an irretrievable loss to this war.
We’ve been able to keep their losses small and manageable to ensure the secrecy
of what we are now undertaking. Who knows how many more lives their deaths may
have cost.”

"Obviously, War Minister,
this is not something we should have ever undertaken at all,” Tuttle’s voice
was defeated and flat.

"What is the latest
intelligence on troop positions in relation to the dome, General? How close are
they?"

"Their closest patrol has
only come within fifty miles of its perimeter. Within the last twelve hours,
we’ve noticed their movements are being directed in the opposite direction.
South of here. Well away from the facility. We still think it is relatively
safe from discovery. They don’t seem to be aware anything out there exists.
They’re vacating the area and moving on."

"So as of yet, they haven't
looked in the right place," Faulken said coldly.

"That is correct. They
haven’t. But they don’t know what they’re looking for in this particular area.
And they are moving away."

"General, we are talking
about one of the most important facilities in the state of this war. Our new
beam cannon prototypes are stored there. If the J.G.U. discover we are planning
to create a new artificial ozone layer, they will go after this technology like
ravenous wolves. They will seize it and use it to finish us. They’ll deploy it
over their country and theirs alone. We will be left to die out here in the
sun."

Tuttle set his jaw and bit back
the words flooding his mind. He looked at the ground and then back at Faulken.

"Isn't that the course we
endeavor to take?" he asked softly his voice trailing off. “Aren’t we here
to ensure we do the same? To only save ourselves?”

"General, we are not here
to philosophize or debate,” Faulken said quickly dismissing him. “Your current
task at hand is a difficult one. And of utmost importance. The J.G.U. is very
aware of Plan Zero, and they are understandably scared. They do not know when
or where we are about to strike. And to what extreme we are willing to
sacrifice."

“When the chopper teams went
down, the airspace around Beuford was effectively sealed off,” Tuttle said
swallowing hard and trying to ignore the sickening feeling settling in his gut.
“They backed all their troops into the center of the city and successfully
closed it down. We haven’t been able to get anything or anyone else in. When
they fully realized the size of the assault force we sent at them, they
concluded rather quickly they were sitting on an important spot. What it is,
they don’t yet know. But, they do know our interest. And that it is extreme.”

Faulken looked past Tuttle to
the command screens at his back. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back in his
chair and turned his gaze back to Tuttle.

Tuttle calmly returned his
stare.

"There is something
else," Tuttle said slowly. "Only the crew in this command room even
know about it. We have an element of force, albeit a small one, already inside.
Well deep within any area we could hope to penetrate at this time.”

Faulken’s eyebrows raised
slightly at this, but he didn’t lower his stare.

“We’ve been receiving holovid
transmissions for the last two to three hours from someone already inside when
the invasion occurred. He’s well now in the thick of it and can’t get out.”

“Military?” Faulken asked
visibly surprised by the news.

“From we’ve been able to
determine, yes. Dome military.”

Faulken leaned forward in his
chair toward Tuttle’s desk.

“What kind of military?”

“He’s identified himself as
having an infantry commander rank. Apparently out on leave and didn’t heed the
medical recall. He’s already met a supply and weapons drop. We plan to use him
to help us open things up within the city. Do enough damage so that we can get
in.”

“You’re placing a lot on the
shoulders of just one man,” Faulken said breathing out quietly. His face looked
a sickly white. “Whether or not he succeeds affects us all.”

“Right now, it’s all we have.”

“Things have become more dire
than we thought.”

“We’ve dropped him explosives
and target objectives. We’re sending him to some of the same targets as
originally planned. He’s doing some of the same wiring networks, but we didn’t
give him the full-blast charges. He has specific site objectives, not large
sections of the city. We want to use him to the fullest extent possible. Not
let him kill himself before making his presence there of full use.”

Faulken still did not yet speak.

“He’s made the pick up and going
through the gear. He’s expecting us to reestablish contact within the hour.”

"What did you define as his
destruction objectives?" Faulken’s spine was now rigid against the back of
his chair.

"Selected areas of high
troop and weapons concentration. We hope he will create at least enough
confusion and chaos to allow us to come in and firebomb the whole damn
place."

"How much do we know about
this one man in which you’ve entrusted so much?" Faulken asked
skeptically. “And exactly how deeply into our secrets has he been briefed?”

"John Kirken. Rank, dome
military commander. Recently retired special forces leader specializing in high
priority dome security.

“Before his final leave he was
overseeing new troop excursions on the outside. He was on a temporary
out of dome visit when all officers were called back. He was right on
the streets of Beuford when the J.G.U. troops came in. He is out there on his
own. His two children are with him."

“And what has he been
told?" Faulken asked again. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette and slowly
blew smoke throughout the room.

"What exactly does he
know?" Faulken said again more forcefully when Tuttle didn’t answer him
right away.

"He knows bits and pieces
of Plan Zero."

"What does he know about
Dome 15?"

Tuttle was quiet for a moment
again not responding right away.

"What the fuck does he
know?" Faulken’s voice dropped to a whisper. "You tell me right
goddamn now."

“All of it,” Tuttle answered
matter-of-factly. “He’s been made aware of all of it. I don’t know how we could
have done otherwise. We had to tell him everything to get him to agree to do
the terrible things we need him to do.”

Faulken’s face was a scowl.

"With the missions we’ve
outlined to him and the high troop concentrations in the areas he’s being sent,
we don’t expect him to survive. We don’t think it’s likely he’ll make it past
the first target area. But with him out there and the situation we are now in,
we had to give the opportunity he presented a try.”

“If he is captured, he could
tell them all,” Faulken’s voice was now nearly dead quiet. “Or worse yet he
could leak information to the inhabitants of the city. It could spark a full
scale national revolt if word gets out.”