Overrun Page 7

  "Don't you dare presume to tell me what is important now, Faulken, you son of a bitch," Ford didn't turn around and continued to stare outside. "You tell me right now why all of a sudden I'm hearing about the massacre of a United States soldier squad outside this country. All the way across the world for god’s sakes. An operation like that would never have been approved. Not with my knowledge. Even if there was a threat of nuclear existence. Not right away."

  "It’s not something for you to authorize," Faulken responded his tone soft and belligerent.

  Ford turned his body around, stepped from behind his desk and moved to stand in front of Faulken.

  Faulken did not look up.

  "I am the leader of the free United States,” Ford’s voice was low and threatening. “I control the most powerful and technologically advanced dome society on this planet. If plans for military operations are being discussed or exist that threaten that for which I am responsible, then by God I will be doing the authorizing. Do you goddamn got that?"

  "This goes way beyond anything you can remotely imagine, Mr. President," Faulken said icily. "Way beyond you. You've never known for a reason."

  "And what reason is that?"

  "To help implement foreign strategies that you yourself helped design."

  "I am part of no such thing, Mr. Faulken."

  "But sir, you are. It has never been a secret that a technological race is underway between the U.S. and the J.G.U. We are both searching for the same thing, a defense against the sun. The first country to figure out a way to protect all of its citizens will eventually heal. While watching the others burn and die. The world is engaged in a dangerous struggle. One it has never before seen.

  “And Mr. President, technological withholdings from the rest of the world is something that you do know and are aware of. You have been a part by embargoing all technological aid, shipments and communications to any country outside the U.S.-controlled nation state. J.G.U. political policy is of course to do the same. So we are not completely evil yet.

  “But then we get to the all out ban on world trade your administration dreamed up. This fits in perfectly with what the world has become and what a certain underground government wishes to see done. We don't bring anything in, and we sure as hell don't ever let anything out.

  “So, you see, you are a part. Just as much as we are, Mr. President. You've sealed us off and separated us from the rest of the world. And this you and your administration have done completely on your own.”

  Ford's face transformed again from a reddened rage to a nauseous white.

  "That's not true. I'm not part of any of this,” Ford said his voice quieting some. “There is no ‘underground’ that I am aware of. I admit I know about the existence of the plan. Every President is briefed on it before taking oath. He is then asked if he still wants to accept his term. What I've never been aware of, however, is a secretive military outfit that seems to be operating only to provoke its use."

  "We are engaged in something completely different than the world before," Faulken admonished. "We are not dealing in a race to build weapons of mass destruction, but rather a technological contest merely to survive. The one country that is left is the one that will rule the world. And that rule will last forever with no other superpower to contest it. Plan Zero has been designed with this in mind. And it was always intended to be put to use. And the time for that may be coming very soon."

  Ford's anger dropped away like someone slapped it from his face. He walked listlessly to his desk and dropped into his leather chair. He rolled up his sleeves and leaned his elbows against its oak surface.

  "As you said, what you may not be aware of, sir, is that small squads of troops have been dispatched throughout the globe to assess the problem," Faulken continued. "A special group, in existence for years, was created to carry out precautionary secretive strikes throughout the globe to ensure that our country is the one to survive. You may not be aware of their deployment, but you sure as hell know that they exist. I've allowed enough information to be brought to you for you to be at least aware of that."

  "Yes, I've heard rumors of a death squad existence," Ford admitted. "I've seen the effects of what they have done. But until this moment, I always thought these units were nothing more than global mercenaries that we may or may not discreetly finance. Some of it, I didn’t even believe to be true. Either way, I have never before thought mission orders would be traced back here. I am very unaware that independent military factions exist to this extent in our country, Mr. Faulken."

  "It has all been purposely kept from you," Faulken explained. "It's much easier for a President to deny U.S. troop activities if he himself does not believe they actually exist."

  More color washed from Ford's face while Faulken continued.

  "Actually mission orders can't be followed back here. At least not to the Administration Dome directly. These soldiers are not official military and don't even train on U.S. soil. Their existence and anonymity in these covert activities have remained untraceable for more than twenty years."

  "Sir, are you alright?" Baldwin stood and walked to the President. Ford had closed his eyes and remained motionless at his desk for several long seconds.

  President Ford did not respond. Drops of sweat beaded more heavily across his forehead and poured over his eyes. They traced thin streaks down both of his cheeks.

  "Please continue, Mr. Faulken," Ford said finally. "I want to know the primary objective of these squads not under my control. What is their number one standing order? What is their purpose? What are they trained in? Worse yet, what are they prepared to do?"

  "Since the unit's creation, its members have been trained and operated under orders to seek out threats to the United States. Research facilities, illegal weapon arsenals, nuclear technology. Anything that can compromise U.S. security. They are then to get inside. And eliminate it.”

  The large room became silent. For many long seconds, only a small fan on Ford’s desk made any sound.

  "How does something become assessed and targeted as a threat?" Ford asked.

  “We have espionage operatives in all sections of the globe,” Faulken said sitting up in his seat. “Anything they find suspicious usually becomes a target.”

  "Anything suspicious becomes a target," Ford softly repeated his words. "How many targets would you estimate within the last three years?"

  “During your term…,” Faulken answered right away trying to organize the papers in front of him as if he was getting ready to leave. “More than 456 operations were green lit since you took office.”

  "How many dead?"

  "Hard to tell,” Faulken returned quickly again. “Vulture squads have confirmed more than twenty-five hundred high-ranking operative kills. That number does not include lower tier personnel….or civilians that may have been killed in the fallout."

  Ford’s throat was dry.

  "What has been the civilian fallout?" the President demanded looking hard across his desk at Faulken.

  Faulken did not see his stare. He was busy reading numbers from documents anchored by a thin metal line to the bottom of his case.

  "It’s anybody’s guess,” he said shuffling the papers away. “But it could run up as high as the tens of thousands."

  "Good Christ," Ford said sullenly lowering his face into his palms.

  Baldwin shifted uneasily in his seat and looked at the ground.

  "It’s not something that can come back to us,” Faulken spoke again. “We're not anywhere near American-controlled territory when it happens. The world is so divided we can do pretty much whatever we want. These towns and facilities that end up destroyed are mostly assumed to have fallen prey to a disgruntled faction or desperate outsider from anywhere throughout the world.

  “We live in a fearful time, Mr. President. And these squads have been dispatched long ago to exploit this. Exploit it in an attempt to defend against it."

  Ford could now barely speak.

  "Don
't you fear the day when this could all end?"

  "That is why we are here today," Faulken dropped his somber tone to an even more ominous and disturbing level.

  "Operations have escalated in the past ten years,” Faulken continued. “Especially since the J.G.U. began stepping up dome research programs and construction of production facilities. Many were targeted and attacked. The escalation has been causing a growing panic across a good portion of the European continent."

  "We've received numerous unofficial communiqués from the J.G.U.," Baldwin spoke again. “‘Unofficially’ they've expressed grave concern that U.S. troops have been illegally operating within their country and those of their allies. We’ve been warned more than once that repercussions will be harsh."

  "And what was our ‘unofficial’ response?" Ford peered apprehensively at his advisors from behind where his head rested in his hands. He could feel the emptiness, desperation and despair that was quickly overcoming his heart also starting to throb behind his eyes.

  "Simple denial,” Baldwin responded. “We’ve never strayed from that. We've thrown them a few names of known militant operatives in areas questioned and expressed our ‘concern’ about the intentions of some of their neighboring countries."

  "Did that work?"

  "It has up until now."

  "Sir, Vulture squadron intelligence has indicated for some time now that the J.G.U. have been heavily pursuing dome research," Faulken interrupted. "And there is a very good chance they are catching up to us and possibly pulling away."

  Ford shifted his eyes back to Faulken.

  "We have strong evidence to suggest they are breaching embargo agreements. In exchange for J.G.U. aid and dome protection, it is now believed select third world countries may be harboring J.G.U. dome production and research facilities. Some smaller countries may even be building their own.

  “Rather than dying off, some of these smaller countries appear to be progressively growing stronger," Faulken said more ominously. "We have a global responsibility to keep the beam cannon technology secret. These death squads are completely necessary if the United States is to remain a superpower on the face of this planet.

  “We have a responsibility to act. And the time to act is right now."

  Faulken stared across the room into the President's sunken eyes. Ford looked haggard and weak. His eyes hung wide open and did not blink.

  "There is too much risk," Faulken warned him. "We cannot allow any of these countries we have beaten down through the years access to this new technology. Once they begin to strengthen and heal, they will want vengeance…they will retaliate for everything they have lost through the years."

  "We are living in a very dangerous time, Mr. President," Baldwin agreed. "We must act accordingly."

  "God help us all if the J.G.U. create a legion of allies," Ford agreed his breath finally returning to him.

  "We think the J.G.U. are preparing to declare war on the United States, Frank," Baldwin spoke again. The President sensed the effort it took for Baldwin to keep his voice steady. "From what we can tell, their military is mobilizing."

  "Judging from events within the past two days, a full-scale invasion attempt will probably be the only alternative the J.G.U. will feel is available to them," Faulken added. "They are scared to death of us. Their eyes are starting to open as to what we really are prepared to do."

  "So what happened?" Ford asked tiredly.

  "From what we’ve been able to determine, a small task force was dispatched to investigate the possible location of three illegal research facilities on a stretch of old Soviet land," Faulken explained. "Scouts came across what appeared to be an unsanctioned dome technological area well outside J.G.U. borders. The Vultures went in to shut it down."

  "How many dead?" Ford questioned quickly.

  "All of them," Faulken returned in a dry tone.

  "No prisoners taken? No one that might have slipped out and is waiting to resurface and return to the States? Someone we could search out and debrief for more information on what the hell is going on?"

  "It was a Level One mission," Baldwin said.

  "They’re instructed to ingest radiation pills in the event of capture," Faulken added. "And the J.G.U. never keep prisoners alive any longer than the duration of their interrogations. If any of the squad survived the raid, they would be dead by now. And most likely tortured horribly until the end."

  "And if someone did escape?"

  "It is highly unlikely anyone will resurface. The concentration of troops that descended upon the vicinity far outnumbered the squad. There is just no way anyone could have made their way out."

  "We have no way of knowing exactly what happened, Mr. President," Baldwin spoke again. "But since that time, something big has been going on in the J.G.U. Their armed forces are on the move. We believe they're getting ready to launch an attack. There is no doubt in our minds that they are coming."

  "So what you're saying…," Ford said accusingly. "…our sins are finally being brought to bear. After all these years of illegal foreign military activities, someone is finally bringing it back to us."

  "They knew it was us a long time ago, sir," Faulken said. "They just could never prove it. At least not enough to justify to the rest of the planet a global war."

  "Until now," the President said.

  "Until now," Faulken agreed.

  "Good God." Ford swiveled around in his seat and turned his back to the two men.

  While he stared out the solar-protected glass to the ruins of Old Washington D.C. outside the Administration Dome, Baldwin and Faulken crossed the room and sat in the two chairs directly in front of his desk. Ford didn’t turn around. They stared at his back and waited for him to speak.

  "Did your office respond to any of the communiqués referring to this instance, Mr. Baldwin?" the President asked.

  "At first we denied knowledge of any team hostile or otherwise in that quadrant of the globe. Unfortunately, they claim to have removed some personal items from a captured soldier. And another supposedly offered us up during his interrogation before he died.

  “They say it is all they need to prove to their people and the other countries of the world our involvement. They feel certain we were behind that raid on their laboratory and are threatening to act on it."

  Two dull tones sounded from the holovid at the corner of the desk stopping the conversation from progressing further. Ford carefully reached to the switch that opened its transmission.

  A young brown-haired woman appeared on the small screen. Circles of fear and darkness colored the skin beneath her eyes. Her gentle voice sounded eerily across the room.

  "Priority transmission about to be received," she told the grim face of the President. "It’s encoded 'Top-Level', sir."

  Baldwin and Faulken each drew in a nervous breath while the President rose to his feet.

  "Ready to receive," Ford answered morosely. His advisors also stood from their seats on the other side of the mammoth oak desk.

  "Transferring to your location," the soft voice said again.

  Ford reached behind his chair for his suit coat, straightened his tie and somberly walked to the center of the Oval Office. He stood there quietly waiting for the transmission to come across the giant holovid monitor that dropped from the ceiling.

  With some crackling of static as the transmission decoded itself and a slight hum from the unit’s internal components, the holovid screen soon displayed the grim expression of the prime minister of Japan's Great Union.

  The J.G.U. leader stared at President Ford with a half accusing and half questioning look.

  "What are the arrogant people of the United States thinking at this moment?" J.G.U. Prime Minister Talhir began in a quiet somber tone after the decoded transmission finally settled in.

  Ford raised his head to begin the explanation he would try to offer, but the prime minister continued to speak. Ford wrung his hands and listened to what the coarse voice of the man before him had to s
ay.

  "President Ford, we have recently intercepted an assassination squad trespassing and committing murder on our side of this greatly divided world. Unfortunately, we were not able to control the situation before your team managed to kill more than two hundred fine men of Japan's Great Union.

  “Many great scientific minds were lost in this unprovoked attack. The financial value of resources and equipment destroyed is unquantifiable. These were brilliant men working only on developing improved radiation medication for our dying people. Your team ruthlessly assassinated scientific civilians at an outpost that in no way violates any of the Embargo Treaties."

  "Prime Minister Talhir, we've only recently received information on this tragedy,” Ford struggled to keep his voice level. “We are utilizing all resources available to help you ascertain and locate the global terrorists that have committed this certainly most heinous act.”

  Behind him, Baldwin and Faulken stood stiffly as if any movement would give their secret away.

  “We offer any and all assistance you may wish us to provide…”

  Talhir did not respond. He only continued to glare through the holovid transmission.

  "I also offer you our pledge to help bring these people to justice and our assurance that the United States was in no way responsible for this catastrophic occurrence on European soil.”

  The room was quiet for a moment before Ford continued. When he did, his voice changed subtly.

  “And I would like to respectfully add, sir, adherence to these allegations could be construed as deliberate provocation to war."

  “How dare you utter those words to me!” the image roared at him. "It is you and the leading men of your country that are terrorists!”

  Ford tried his best not to react to this outburst. His expression remained stern and unyielding. He kept his eyes focused on the screen hoping desperately they would not betray the fear in his heart and the nausea in his stomach. With great concentrated effort, he tried by sheer will alone to make the droplets of perspiration threatening to break across his brow retreat back beneath his skin.