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PresidentMarcos
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No. I've just read a whole sh*tload of books on the subject. Quite a lot for a person of my age, frankly. And I might decide to go into strategic planning...
As for the story...
The President was lurched out of his drunken stupor by one of his close aides.
"Wake up!" the Secret Service agent yelled. "We're under attack! ICBM attack!"
Immediately, the President's face changed from it's normal, emotionless blank stare to a wide, toothy grin.
"Well, get the Minutemen up!"
Immediately, the General pushed the button. Within seconds, the entire Minuteman and Peacekeeper force was in the air, headed toward the USSR...
At the same time, Soviet missile satellites opened fire, annihalating the rising ICBMs in revenge for what happened to theirs.
Across the Pacific, the entire B-1 force was gathering for a strike on Moscow...
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PresidentMarcos
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Almost immediately, both sides launched massive orbital offenses. Antipodal Bombers, based on the vintage Saenger design, were taken off by both sides. Within minutes, the battlefield of space had been drawn out. On both sides, the interceptors were launched on top of modified ICBMs...
The massive solid-fuel booster stage was shoved out of it's silo by a huge blast of cold gas. It was pushed outwards and upwards. The main engine, a huge, two-nozzled affair, was activated. Great columns of fire descended downwards, and became steam. The booster stage was temporarily engulfed in smoke and steam, but after a few seconds, the booster rose out of the fireball and accelerated past Mach 4 within half a minute. After about 45 seconds, the first stage detatched, and the modified warhead bus, the interceptor on top, activated it's huge liquid fueled engine, and coasted upwards into orbit. Inside the delta-winged, semi lifting-body interceptor sat a generic Air Force pilot. He looked straight ahead at the HUD, as he flipped the ON switch. A bright green pipper appeared on the relfector panel. The pilot armed opened the ventral weapons bay, and targeted the missile...
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vovan
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 Do you enjoy giving us so little goods or maybe you haven't yet come up with the idea wha happens next? Any way, like Paddy said, tease, yes, you are. But then, there really isn't enough development to get into the suspense you could otherwise build up with, say the last sentence of the chapter... I don't know. All I can say is maybe, take your time and develop the plot more and write up more stuff before posting? Like, if everything you've posted so far was over the course of two chapters rather than twelve, that would have been great. The way it is, one really cannot get into the story. The immersion factor just isn't there, since you are feeding us half-bite pieces...
Other than that suggestion, I'd say, it's all good. Looking forward to more from you.
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unscratchedfoot
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Love me tender. Love me sweet.
May 2002
time: 14:30
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l
Last edited by unscratchedfoot on 03-11-2003 at 10:40
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PresidentMarcos
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Low Earth Orbit. Even though this was not where true outer space began, nor where free fall was replaced by a complete lack of Earth’s gravity, the view from 200 kilometers up was still spectacular. From up here, where there was no atmosphere, the stars were clearer and brighter than ever. The Moon was clearly visible. Below, the Earth’s surface curved downward and away…
It was a tranquil, almost serene scene. For a moment, it seemed that everything was at peace. But upon closer inspection, things were proven to be quite different…
The rotary missile launchers in the now wide open weapons bay of the orbital interceptor rotated into position. Chrome polished to protect the sensitive electronics from harmful galactic radiation, the launch canisters gleamed in the reflected light of the Sun. One of the launch canisters, more specifically the one in launch position, began to open. The two rotating bay doors began to part, revealing a crack that progressively widened. As the doors opened, a band of light shone down into the canister, slowly revealing the missile. A white painted one. This was serious.
Inside the cockpit sat a nervous pilot. He stared into the HUD, and it’s bright green reticle. Below the reticle, projected on the HUD display, was a Pulse Doppler radar display. The pilot, nervous, high on adrenaline and testosterone, targeted the first Soviet spacecraft he saw – a Tu-256 ‘Bugger’ orbital bomber. Immediately, a set of arrows appeared on the HUD, vectoring the pilot towards his prey. By now, the pilot, who was grinning inanely, pulled the trigger on the joystick…
At the bottom of the launch canister, a puff of vapor from an exploding CO2 cylinder ejected the missile vertically. The missile went upwards in a parabolic trajectory. It’s onboard rocket motors fired to point it at the target. At that instant, the main engine, a massive solid-fueled rocket, activated, sending the missile streaking towards it’s quarry at over 30 kilometers a second. The fighter, moving at only 8 kilometers a second, separated trajectories away from the missile, and loaded yet another…
“My wife’s mother is the model mother-in-law,” said the Russian pilot of the ‘Bugger.’
“Why?” asked his bombardier.
“There is no joke in the world that is not suitable for her.”
Both men laughed. Suddenly, the Sirena ECM began to scream loudly. Something was targeted on the ‘Bugger.’ The pilot swore in Russian, then began evasive maneuvers. “Hey, Yuri!” he yelled to his bombardier.
“What?” the bombardier asked.
“Get those orbit to ground nukes ready!”
Yuri the bombardier activated the arming panel and armed the warheads on the KSH-24 ‘Klump’ orbit-to-surface nuclear missiles. As Ivan the pilot spun the bomber upside down, Yuri opened the weapons bay, and launched the nukes, just as the missile from the interceptor struck home, sending the bomber streaking out of control over the Pacific Ocean.
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PresidentMarcos
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Inside the command center, things were already getting tense. As soon as the Bugger launched it's missiles, other bombers followed. Within seconds, the radar views of the North American continent filled with hundreds of red streaks...
Alarms began to ring. People were running around from console to console, keying in inputs madly. In New York, Washington D.C, and a great many other major American cities, the air raid alarms were ringing madly. People rushed in a massive torrent to the newly built public bomb shelters...
"Warning...Warning...Warning...Incoming reentry vehicles. Estimated velocity 7 km/s. Impact in seven minutes. Estimated civilian casualties: 74 million..." The computer continued in it's quiet feminine voice, reading off the casualty tolls for schools, hospitals, factories...It was grisly listening. "Recommended: Deployment of Toggenberg ABM laser."
The President, his Secret Service staff, and a group of Air Force generals sat around the computer console. General Maxwell, the highest ranking general, shrugged. He pulled out a silver key, and inserted it into a keyhole on the console. The President did the same. At precisely the same instant, the two turned...
Toggenberg was active.
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PresidentMarcos
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The massive, telescope like cylinder of the Toggenberg laser swung around at a surprisignly high speed. Aiming it's single huge laser cannon at one of the incoming warheads, it fired. Then, it turned to another, and fired again...
With Toggenberg, the Windspritn ABMs fired too. Soon, the air was filled with re-entering warheads, laser beams, and Windsprints...
Within seconds, the air had become incredibly electric. Literally. Inside the command center, the radar operators watched as the red streaks dissapeared, one by one...
Thousands became hunderds, hundreds became tens...
Until there was just one red streak remaining. It would have been easy game, if it was not for the fact that Toggenberg had overheated, and it needed to cool down...But the missile would hit before that had happened...
"Where's that missile gonna land?" yelled the President.
One of the technicians ran some calculations on a computer. "Houson, Texas," was the reply.
This was accompanyied by a massive sigh of relief from everyone in the bunker, followed by a wince as the warhead landed and Houston flashed off the map.
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PresidentMarcos
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"Damm it, damm it!" the President yelled. "The Soviets just wiped out Houston! We really need to retalitate! Problem is that they got an ABM laser, too...Can we take it out?"
General Quembley, the man in charge of the USAF's Space Command, replied.
"Well, if we get a squadron or two of bombers and just saturate the defences, we might get lucky. But, we do need to wipe out that laser, no matter the cost. After all, if we do wipe out their air defence system, we can send in our conventional atmospheric bombers, and just bomb 'em all the way back to the Paeleolithic."
"Adam!"
"All right, the Iron Age."
****
The interceptor pilot sat in the cockpit of his orbital pilot. Just minutes before, he had downed a Soviet Tu-256 'Bugger.' He was the first to do so, but was soon followed by many others...
Now, the pilot had received new orders. He was ti fly over the USSR for an indeterminate purpouse. Although the pilot did not know what his job would be, he had an ominous feeling that he was going to get shot at a great deal...
No one likes being live bait for an ABM laser...
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PresidentMarcos
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Sorry about the absence. An accident in the biolab got me sick with something that they haven't even categorized yet--I was in quarantine for two full weeks, until they figured out that it wasn't harmful.
Anyway, the story resumes...
The interceptor pilot sat in his cockpit, breathing deeply. In and out, in and out...
The numerous readouts on the HUD and dashboard reflected off of his helmet, with an effect that reminded one of Dave Bowman.
He looked down, out of the cockpit. Above, he could see the blackness of space. Below, he saw the soothing familiarity of the Earth, with it's clouds and blue oceans.
Pressing down on the right rudder pedal, he brought his interceptor toward the USSR. Shoving the throttle forward, he pushed the fighter to full afterburner...
****
(I apologize for the anti-climax, but it was the only way we could have sequels)
Finally, reason took hold in the Kremlin. Premier Desadesky called the President on the Hotline...
"Hello? This is the Soviet Premier, Konstantin Desadesky."
"Ahh...hello."
"I'd like to declare a ceasefire...I want to see my children grow up to have children of their own."
"Alright, alright, alright. RECALL ALL FORCES!!!" he yelled.
And so the human race was safe from annihalation. It was more or less a tie, even though the US lost Houston, and most of Texas with it.
The Soviets would forever curse themselves for this move. It ensured that the US would stay ahead in technology for a very long time.
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15-10-2003 17:14
What's up with that? I hope you aren't running out of labels to put on the goods, or the shipping boxes. Otherwise, we'd have to provide humanitarian help. I'll personally send you five bags of bubble-wrap so you can make your goods safe for shipping in a hurry.
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