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PresidentMarcos
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Before we begin, there is a little introduction. First of all, A3 takes place around 2020, ten years after A2. Now the story was inspired by the Age of Discovery conquest in C3C. Likewise, in this story, we have several Old World, or Earth Superpowers attempting to go to the New World (here, the Moon) and exploit it's riches, such as Helium-3 for nuclear fusion reactors, among other things, such as metal ores and such. At this point, there are several powers: the United States, of course, along with the European Union (although technically seperate states when dealing with domestic affairs, they deal with international affairs as a single political entity) the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the Union of East and Southeast Asian Republics, (China and Southeast Asia. Although claiming to be socialists, they are really capitalistic to the limit. It has to be seen to be believed), the Commonwealth of Formerly British Nations, and the Union of Pacific States. (Japan, South Korea, the Phillipines, Indonesia, etc.) Two footnotes: By this time, the US has annexed Canada. Next, A refers to a member of the Armageddon series of stories, the number refers to the number of the story. SO, A1: Craziest Men on the Planet, A2: The Crisis of 2010, and A3: present story. So, sit back and relax. And remember, it's just a story. If you are somehow offended, well, then you are. Also, apologies to Canadians. But how the whole annexation of Canada happened is it's own little story for later.
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PresidentMarcos
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Alright, CM. Alright.
General Greenglass was sitting in his leather chair, his feet on his mahogany desk. He was staring upward at the ceiling of his spacious, well-decorated office, smiling like a cat on laughing gas. His phone rang. Taking his feet off the desk, planting them firmly on the floor, he picked up the receiver...
"General?"
"Yes, Lois?"
"There's someone here to see you."
"Who?"
"Mr. Karcher."
"Send him in, send him in!"
A moment later, the double door opened, and in walked Mr. Karcher.
"Ahh! Jack! Hello!"
"It's good to be here, sir. I've got the briefing you wanted."
Karcher was one of Greenglass's high ranking aides, a Colonel. He fulfilled the same position Greenglass had ten years ago. He was an intelligence officer, specializing in the technology field.
"Right, sir, now we've gotten delivery of those new Dyna-Soar IIIs. They're nuclear powered, as you know, and they are about 40% bigger than the last generation, 100% bigger than the first. The DIIIs have the longest range yet. They can make lunar flybys easily. Plus they're fast...top speed's around 80 km/s."
Greenglass nodded. "That's good. So, everything's in order. Anything else?"
"As a matter of fact, there is, sir."
Karcher grabbed his briefcase and opened it. He took out a thin, square box, and opened it. Inside, there was a disk. Taking the black disc, he walked over to a console near the door and inserted the disc into the slot. Punching a few keys on the touchscreen interface pad, he activated the office's multimedia plasma screen.
With a low whirr, a thin, semitransparent wall rose from a slot in the floor.
"Okay, sir. Now this is an intelligence report, complied from data we got from our recon vehicles. It could be very important. Watch closely, sir..."
Karcher walked over to the desk and picked up the remote. Pointing it at the screen, he pushed a button. The screen flashed once, then began playing the footage...
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PresidentMarcos
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"Okay, sir. Now as you know, at this point, the Moon is pockmarked with mining bases. At this point, the business is in it's infancy, but it's grown like hell the past few years. The trade is incredible."
Greenglass nodded. Karcher continued.
"Now, the USSR has taken to this trade like a duck to Chinese pancakes. Unfortunately, they have a problem. We are stifling competition, and as such, they now hate our guts. UESAR does too."
Greenglass nodded again.
"Intelligence has indicated that the USSR has been wanting to, if not planning to, make a move. That we know. Recently, we have gotten a hunch that this move is in the planning stage. But at this point, we have something of a proof. It may not be definite, but it is still quite fishy. Now General Quembley asked me to show this to you. He thinks it's definite proof of a move. I don't. Although the USSR and the UESAR are competition, and although we do somewhat wreck their business, a war would wreck it even more."
The footage zoomed in on a small black rectangle, in a clearing in the center of the Soviet base.
"Now, this, as you can see here, is a standard Soviet heavy transport, identified here as the CCCP Andrei Kubiyshev. Right here, you can see that it is unloading something."
The view zoomed in even further, on an object that was apparantely a self-propelled cargo palette.
"Now this object, resting on the armored palette, is a nuclear warhead, judging by the markings and the radiation readings. A nuclear warhead is normal enough. Standard armament aboard most military spacecraft. But this warhead distinguishes itself. Judging by it's size compared to a high-yield Soviet warhead, mainly due to similarity of shape and external features, we came to the conclusion that the warheads' yield was well above average. Now keep in mind that the biggest nuclear warhead on record was detonated in 1961 over Novaya Zemylya by the USSR. It had a yield of around 57 to 58 megatons, or million tons of TNT. This warhead has a yield amounting to approximately 250 megatons. That is about four to five times as much. According to our estimates, if used, this warhead could easily take out the largest of our lunar mining bases. It could potentially shut down our whole operation. But that's just the first part."
The footage zoomed out. There were not one, but seven of the palettes visible.
"That's enough megatonnage to shut down our mining operations for years, if not longer! But I do not think they are to be used against us."
"Why not?" Greenglass asked. "And what for, if not?"
Karcher continued.
"As I stated previously, sir, a war would be economically damaging to the USSR, not to mention the UESAR. It could seriously screw up the trade. That in itself is reason enough not to use the warheads. In addition to this, these warheads are untested. They have probably been taken to the moon for test detonation. However, sir, it would still be prudent to be watchful and alert, that is, to prepare for the worst, and to get ready for a possible shooting war."
"Then I will do what is prudent," Greenglass replied.
Last edited by PresidentMarcos on 17-04-2004 at 04:07
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PresidentMarcos
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Karcher walked out of the General's office, holding his briefcase. His shoes clicked on the white tile floor, the noise reverberating through the hall. He continued down toward the main lobby. Turning around, he walked into the austere, but impressive, room. This was the entryway for the the USAF's new Vandenberg headquarters. The floor was covered with luxuriant, golden-bordered, deep red carpeting. There was little furniture...only a few reception booths, line cordons, and couches. Karcher continued out of the building, onto the street. The traffic was heavy as usual, but also fast as usual. There, Karcher waited. A few minutes later, as promised, Greenglass joined Karcher on the sidewalk. A limousine arrived from the parking garage to take them to their destination. Karcher opened the door for Greenglass, who climbed in, followed by Karcher. The two took their seats. In the limousine with them they had company. Namely, several other generals. Karcher looked around and smiled briefly, then sank back into his usual sullen glare. General Quembley, by this time quite a career soldier, spoke first.
"Ah...Hello, Jack. Nice to see you. How are things?"
"Good sir. And you?"
"Perfect health. There's not a cancer, disease, assasin, rabid dog, ham sandwich, or disgruntled chaffeur that can do me in! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!"
The limo drove on.
"Okay, then, sirs...you have been shown the briefing, is that so?"
There was a general affirmative hum.
"Now we will be going to launch into space. Why? Well, we will be going to the moon, to the lunar base, in order to assess the situation. More importantly, this time is sensitive politically. You are doubtless aware of the arms reduction talks going on right now? On the Moon? We'll be joining them. Everyone here. Generals Greenglass, Quembley, and Jackson. And last but not least, me..."
Karcher swallowed.
"Ahh, don't worry, Jack!" said Quembley. "You're the softest and most peacable member of this group! And probably the most sane! You're the least likely to screw things up."
"That's good to know, sir..." he replied.
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PresidentMarcos
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As the limousine was driving toward the spaceport, events were beginning to unfold in orbit. These events would have far reaching reprecussions...
The sleek, black, and menacing DynaSoar III glided silently through the vacuum of space. Above was a sky of shining stars. Below was the Earth, in all it's color and variety. Inside, the pilot sat back, comfortably, in his water-filled chair. His left hand was on the control stick, his right hand on the throttle. The pilot, a Major Custer, was sitting back, and attempting to relax. At this point, there was little that could go wrong. The engine had fired properly, and the vehicle had broken free of Earth's gravity and was on it's way to the Moon. There was little to be done. Newton was now in the pilot's seat. Of course, there was a small margin of error. Murphy's Law was bound to rear it's ugly head every now and then. And, quite unfortunately for Major Custer, and even more unfortunately for world peace, it decided to do so right then and there.
Beep...
Custer looked down at the radar screen. Sure enough, something was there. Custer pushed a few buttons on the screen's console, and then...
The blip flashed red, and turned red. Below it, there appeared identification information. Apparantely, it was a Soviet spacecraft, a Lapot spaceplane, to be more specific. It was a fighter. And there was not just one...there was a whole swarm of them. Custer pushed a button on his communication console, and patched through to Vandenberg.
"Uhh...Vandenberg...we got an anomaly here. This is DS-1001..."
"What is it?"
"I got some weird radar contacts. Here's the feed..."
A moment later, there was a reply.
"DS-1001, these are weird, and potentially threatening. Keep your distance, I repeat, keep your distance. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Over, and out. Help's on the way!"
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PresidentMarcos
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Sorry about the lack of updates, but I've been having a busy week. Exams and schoolwork. But it's over now, so here's a nice, Sunday reward. An update, and finally, some action!
But, in the course of history, !@#$ happens. It can be assured that it will happen at the worse possible moment. That fateful day, it did. This lump of !@#$ hitting the fan was to have tremendous repercussions in human history. And all because of a defective life support system...
The small-scale confrontation erupted into violence. The one to initiate the chaos was a young, Soviet officer, commanding a wing of Lapotoks. It was not his fault. The defective life support system malfunctioned, and gave him the wrong nitrogen/oxygen mixture. The pilot's brain, now becoming oxygen deprived, went into an alternative state of mind. The pilot, now hallucinating and delusional, ended up firing at the Dyna-Soar III. At that point, things went downhill. Major Custer looked at the thermal flash, and his training kicked in. He swung his Dyna-Soar around, away from the enemy grouping, and fired the main engine, while at the same time firing several nuclear tipped missiles back toward the Soviet force. The Dyna-Soar, powered by a high powered nuclear drive, zipped away in a wide arc, around the Soviet force, as the missiles closed in...
Meanwhile, the Soviets did likewise. Everyone, save for the officer, who was still highly delusional and shooting off missiles, lit their engines and zipped off. But it was not enough. The new AIM-7AX Sparrow orbit-to-orbit missiles were equipped with decoys and stealth countermeasures. Surely enough, three missiles, in rapid succession, plunged into the officer's Lapotok. The combined force of the multi-kiloton warheads vaporized the Lapotok completely. The fireball expanded at a frightening rate, swallowing several Soviet craft. The survivors fired back, as the Dyna-Soar III let loosed with it's remaining missiles...
It was sheer overkill. The Dyna-Soar III was in the epicenter of a tremendous explosion. Major Custer was vaporized instantly. But, he would have his revenge. The Sparrow missiles detonated, creating a tremendous blast that vaporized the Soviet force as well. Within the space of about 15 seconds, all that was left was a vapor cloud. In a little under two minutes, twenty-six people met their ends. They were the first to die. And they would not be the last.
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PresidentMarcos
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Well? Make replies! I like replies. I need feedback to continue. Thank you.
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PresidentMarcos
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The wrong mix thing hasn't been documented, but it is possible. Ever tried scuba diving with the wrong mix?
Anyway...
Things began to flare up soon after the incident. Vandenberg Control noticed the loss of DS-1001, when the blinking green blip, along with a group of blinking red blips exchanged streaks and vanished off of the screen. The chief controller slapped his forehead, and said to himself, "Oh, ****..."
It was appropriate. Things did begin to go downhill. Immediately, Soviet forces were scrambled and Lapotoks were silo launched. Dyna-Soars were launched from the orbital carrier stations and from the earth. US Lunar Forces went on full alert. But it was not at the climax, at least not yet...
By this time, Quembley, Karcher, Greenglass, and Jackson were on their way to the launchpad, but, they were soon rerouted. The small LCD screen on the ceiling, usually folded, popped out downward and began to play a live feed.
"Sorry about this, sirs..." the officer shouted. "We have a problem. You'll be at the bunker in about a minute or so..."
The limousine turned around and jetted forward. The acceleration pinned Karcher and Greenglass in their seats and caused Quembley and Jackson to tug at their seatbelts. Surely enough, in little over a minute, the limousine had entered the bunker parking garage, and the blast door had slid shut. The limosine continued at it's normal high speed, through the security gate, into a vacant parking space. The doors opened, and the four jumped out of the limousine and began to run down the tunnel, into the command room...
They entered the room, just as the activity was beginning to get frenzied. The air was filled with the noise of clicking keyboards.
Karcher burst in, running up to one of the controllers and General Jones. "What about the lunar nukes!? What about the lunar nukes!?"
General Jones turned to him.
"Ahh...Colonel Karcher. See us through tonight and you're in line for a promotion."
"Enough about the promotion! We got several thousand lives, trillions of dollars, and the world economy at stake! What if the Soviets decide to use the goddammed things!?"
"We'll then blow the goddammed things out of the goddammed skies and use our nukes, then."
"Also, what about the Hotline!?"
"The Hotline! The Hotline! It's open, thank god!"
Both men breathed a sigh of relief. But it was not to be so easy...
Okay. Look forward to some great action by Chapter 10. And believe me, it'll be action.
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PresidentMarcos
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Well, alright. What happened was there was a problematic filter that ended up causing a buildup of pressure and pipe damage and leakage. Basically, there was a leak, due to a structural defect caused by a shoddy filter, and the result was pretty nasty. So, you have a bad mix of nitrogen and oxygen. What do you get? Hallucinations and an altered state of mind. Again, it's possible, but it hasn't been documented.
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PresidentMarcos
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A world away, on the Moon, things began to go wrong almost from the minute the Soviet pilot began to hallucinate. Clavius Base Control picked up the battle on radar, and lunar forces were put on high alert. Every last weapon was pointed towards the Soviet forces and made ready to fire on a moment's notice. One sneeze and it would hit the fan in a heartbeat.
The clump of dander that irritated the nose was an American, Colonel Ripper. Now Ripper was one of those men that simply shouldn't be anywhere near anything even remotely close to being a weapon. But Ripper had influential parents. And so, he entered the Air Force, and was posted at the Lunar Base. The brass knew it was a bad idea, but what choice did they have? In any case, it was bound to have adverse consequences.
The thing about Ripper was the fact that the hospital orderlies at the hospital he was born at had butterfingers. Ripper was dropped a great deal. By the time he went home with his parents, he had bumped himself on the head 243 times. In response, he did not die. He simply went quietly insane, swearing revenge on the idiotic hospital orderlies who had made his early life so painful and miserable.
On this day, Ripper was having problems. His insanity was acting up again, in a big way. Ripper enjoyed pushing buttons, you see. It was a very bad situation. All that was needed now was a slight breeze...
The slight breeze was another bad mix incident. Another Soviet pilot had a maulnfunctioning filter. As usual, the pilot began to hallucinate, then go into seizure. The orbiting Lapotok began to act strangely. Surely enough, after about a minute, the Lapotok fired. This was around the time the men at Vandenberg Control realized about the hotline. But, it was too little, too later. Ripper, sitting in the control bunker, took note of this, and gave the order for retaliation. And surely enough, it was going to be carried out. No matter what. And so, Ripper brought toghether the several other high ranking officers.
"Alright," Ripper said. "What do we do?"
"We retaliate..." the other colonel said.
"Right. The keys..."
"Yes, sir. The keys..."
It was going to be a long day.
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PresidentMarcos
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And with this fateful unleashing of insanity, history was being made, and not in a good way. What was later to be called "The Incident" was nearing it's climax, and orgasmic display of violence and blatant disregard for the value of human life. And so, the story, and the situation, begins to really unfold...
****
Greenglass, Quembley, and Karcher ran with great force towards the Presidential Communication Console, a chrome pedestal displayed pominently in an alcove in the wall. Already, the Major in attendance had lifted it up. He handed it to Quemley. Quembley pushed the button, and waited...
Finally, there was the reassuring beep. A connection was established.
"Mr. President...this is General Quembley."
"What is it, Adam? Your bumbling put mankind on the brink of armageddon again?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Hold on, I'll call the Premier, wacky old nut that he is..."
But Quembley and all the others had a deep, disturbing feeling it was not enough. Blood was going to be spilled.
****
"MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! MEEP!"
The scramble alarm rang in the bunker, shaking the depths of the US military base with it's tremendous noise, bathing the hallways with it's harsh, flashing red light. The noise of yelling and of rapid footsteps could soon be heard. Men were running, running towards the sliding door at the end of the corridor...
Major Smith ran down the hallway, and was first to the door. Surely enough, it slid open with a deep rumble. Smith continued down the corridor extension, into the tremendous, cavernous bomber hangar...
Already, he was wearing a climate controlled jumpsuit, hermetically sealed. He grabbed a helmet and backpack from a wall rack, and hurridedly clipped them on. Then, he continued, through the door, into the lunar hangar. He ran down, towards the last of the sleek looking rockets, Dyna-Soar IIIs on top, lying on their sides. He clambered up the platform, into the cockpit, and shut the hatch. A few seconds later, the overhead roof slid open, and the rocket moved to upright position rapidly. Within a few seconds, the whole assembly was pointed straight up...
It launched automatically. No voice communication this time, just a datalink. Smith looked around in the cockpit. Pushing several buttons distributed over a menacing looking black console, he armed his Dyna-Soar's nuclear strike weapons. Within about sixty seconds, he was coasting up, into sub orbit...
Smith looked at the blinking red button. Making a few adjustments on the steering console, until the button turned green, Smith pushed it, and in doing so, opened the bomb bay and fired the missiles. A signal had been sent to Vandenberg Control, but it was too late. By the time the return signal was on it's way, there was no turning back.
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PresidentMarcos
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Surely enough, there was a Soviet response. In a big way. The Soviets responded by pointing every nuclear tipped weapon they had, including the superbombs, and firing them off in one big volley, aimed in the general direction of the US lunar military base and the primary mining colony. So, within about a minute, practically all the megatonnage was en route. To make a very long story short, a good share of it got through on the Soviet side, overhwelming the defenses with decoys and EM warfare. The Soviet military base was the first to be blown into oblivion. The new lunar crater was named in the base commandant's honor later on.
Meanwhile, the Soviet strike bore down on the American side. The Americans responded by firing a small cache of the nukes they had left at the incoming volley, unlike the Soviets, who had simply used everything they had. A siginificant portion of the incoming volley was stopped, but surely enough, two or three nukes got through. Among those three nukes was one of the superbombs...
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PresidentMarcos
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The lunar military base was soon a scene of chaos. Men were running back and forth, yelling and shouting, opening and shutting doors. In the command bunkers, officers frantically pushed buttons and typed away at keyboards. In the hangars, many fighters were being launched in sheer desperation. The EMP from several of the nuclear blasts had had it's effects on both sides. Although it had not completely crippled the US forces, it diminshed their ability to fight. Where technology would once have done the job, individual skill and courage would have to pull through. And thankfully, it did.
There were many pilots, specifically the interceptor piltos, who were not launched on the first wave. Among those pilots was a Major Edwards. This Major Edwards had been held back for a few minutes, before the situation went downhill. Now, Edwards was the last line of defence. Either he took out the three inbound warheads, or the base was history. Due to the EMP, he would have to rely more on his own skill than on technology.
Loud, harsh static filled the airwaves. Edwards, by now flying upwards in his Dyna-Soar, pushed a few buttons, and the static began to dissipate slightly, enough for him to understand his orders.
"DS-907, DS-907, this is Clavius...over...."
"I read you, Clavius...."
"D....07...intercept the three war......heavy jamming and...."
Edwards stared out of the cockpit. The warheads would be large, incoming projectiles, in a depressed ballistic arc. The problem was finding them...THERE! Edwards saw a telltale glint. It was not a decoy, as he could tell by the trajectory. Edwards pushed a button on his joystick, activating the cannon. He aimed and fired, straight up at the warhead...YES! The warhead exploded in a shower of sparks and flame. One down, two more to go.
He pushed several buttons on yet another dash console, and the HUD changed. It became a solid red field, interrupted by vertical and horizontal lines of lighter red forming a grid. A series of red dots, forming yellow trails appeared on the screen. Annoyed, Edward looked around, spotted another glint out of the window, and then fired the cannon. Two down, one to go...OH ****!!!
The warhead was inbound. There was absolutely no way Edwards could stop it...or was there?
Edwards swivelled the Dyna-Soar around and went into a dive. The warhead began manuevering around, and became a very difficult target. Edwards saw that this was futile. But he found a way. Edwards pulled the trigger and jerked the stick. The warhead responded, then tumbled out of control, impacting harmlessly hundreds of klicks north of the base. The human race breathed a collective sigh of relief. Everyone was safe...for a while.
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15-04-2004 21:48
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