The Black Aura - 7. Making it to the Top

Gettin' robbed
Gettin' stoned
Gettin' beat up
Broken-boned
Gettin' had
Gettin' took
I tell you, folks
It's harder than it looks
It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll

AC/DC - 1975

17

Since November third, President-elect Pelson's aura stopped alternating between red and green. It remained red, so I knew something bad was going to happen to him. Apparently he would have died in an accident if I hadn't been his running mate. But fate intervened. On April eleventh, 2061, he secured having the second shortest term as President ever, eighty-two days. President Pelson was traveling to a summit meeting in Moscow, to meet with Russian President Volkov, among others. He never made it to the meeting. Not only was my ambition to not be President unfulfilled, I was thrust into it via a confrontation with Cortuna. Air Force One didn't just go down into the Atlantic Ocean. Nope. It was shot down in an act of war. Debris was found, but very few bodies were recovered. I suppose it was fortunate for the country that President Pelson's body was one of those recovered. Of course, that meant I was President for sure. I had held out a glimmer of hope that Al would have somehow survived for the couple days while I was acting President. But on the thirteenth, his body was recovered, along with half a dozen others. Being shot down at thirty-eight thousand feet didn't leave much of a chance for survivors, even with the many airline safety enhancements in place by that time. We were lucky enough to have found seven bodies out of the forty-two that were on board that day.

As soon as the President was positively identified, I was sworn in as the fifty-third President of the United States. My first official act was to declare war against Cortuna. How's that for a legacy? Wait, it gets better.

It had been nearly thirty years since the U.S. had been in a military conflict of any kind. Back then, the wars were fought with bodies and bullets. We were a lot more sophisticated in twenty-sixty-one; it was cyborg entities and what were essentially laser beams. Rockets, bombs, chemical warfare, and cyber warfare had all but been eliminated, made illegal and agreed upon by ninety-nine percent of the world's countries. Only two of the world's two hundred and nine recognized countries had refused to comply. You guessed it, Cortuna was one of the two. You could probably guess the other within three or five guesses. But I'll give you a hint, the name is the same as a song by "A Flock of Seagulls," ignoring the parenthetical part of the title.

Because war had been virtually eliminated, the U.S. defense budget had been continually cut year-by-year for the past twenty years. Granted, the implements of defense had been greatly enhanced, and were much less expensive, especially since government contract corruption had been eliminated; no more contracts for five thousand dollar toilets. But an all-out war was not something the U.S. was very well equipped for. The assistant White House Chief of Staff was also thrust into a new position as of the eleventh. He became my Chief of Staff. I called all the remaining members of the cabinet to introduce myself, although I had met many of them previously. I say remaining, because four had been traveling with President Pelson, and I hadn't yet had the chance to even think about replacements.

The Secretaries of Defense and Homeland Security were lost in the assassination, along with the White House Chief of Staff and the US Ambassador to the United Nations. Obviously the two secretaries were the greatest loss with the country having to go to war. But fortunately for me, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was an experienced and decorated member of the Air Force. With three quarters of the previous high ranking defense representatives gone, Air Force General Baxter Kramer became my chief advisor. The Deputy Secretaries of Defense and Homeland Security got promotions, based on advice from General Kramer. I followed his lead and promoted the Deputy to the US Ambassador to the United Nations to the top spot there.

So on April fourteenth, General Kramer, Larrison Vidant - the new Secretary of Defense, Emily Wagner - the new Secretary of Homeland Security, Samantha Worthen - the new US Ambassador to the United Nations, my Chief of Staff, Hayden Sinclair, and myself, were locked in the Oval Office to discuss our next steps. Cortuna wasn't a member of the UN, so Mrs. Worthen was present to advise what could or couldn't be done with and to the Republic of Cortuna.

Cortuna was a small island nation roughly 1200 miles off the west coast of Africa. Angola was due east. Previously under British rule, they proclaimed their independence nearly twenty years earlier when the current dictator, er, Prime Minister, came into power.

It was decided the first action would be the placing of seventy-five surveillance drones inside of Cortuna's airspace. We needed to get the lay of the land as it were, to see exactly what we were up against. We needed to know the strength of their military. There was satellite imagery, but that wasn't completely sufficient. The remoteness of Cortuna, on Saint Helena Island, made it necessary to utilize Angola or Namibia as an ally, fortunately, both were members of the United Nations. Samantha Worthen's first priority was to contact the UN ambassadors of those two African states to determine if they would be willing to aid our effort. She quickly determined the United States already had a military presence in Namibia through the USS Hershel "Woody" Williams, a Lewis B. Puller-class expeditionary sea base (ESB). The ship was the first U.S. Navy warship permanently assigned to the United States Africa Command (AFRICOM) area of responsibility. That would be her starting point.

On April sixteenth, seventy-five micro-drones and one thousand five hundred air-land cyborg units were flown to Walvis Bay, Namibia, where the USS Williams was currently stationed. On the nineteenth, the USS Williams was stationed twenty-five miles East-Southeast of Saint Helena Island and the micro-drones were launched. Micro-drones were used to limit visibility and possible interception by the Cortuna military. Twelve hours later, nearly nine hundred hours of aerial traditional, infrared, thermal, and ultraviolet footage was fed into a Kollberg computer and the U.S. knew all it needed to know about the strength of Cortuna's military. That strength was nearly unbelievable. If Cortuna wanted to, seventy-five percent of the United States could be destroyed within hours. It appeared they wanted to do just that. Nearly ninety percent of their attack force was hot, and that number was increasing by the hour. There were odd concentrations of the populace, but that didn't concern us at the moment.

18

The news was devastating. Cortuna had the resources to destroy almost every city in the U.S. with over twenty-five thousand people. Nearly thirteen hundred small and medium scale nuclear device controllers were discovered. The U.S. military didn't have enough resources to prevent even ten percent of those control devices from launching their missiles. The air-land cyborgs in the South Atlantic would easily be taken down before they could get within ten miles of any of those devices. Micro-drones with destructive capabilities were not powerful enough to penetrate the shielding of those nuclear detonation devices. In a word, the United States was fucked.

I had one option. I would contact Cortuna's Prime Minister directly and begin negotiations. There had to be some reason they began this war. If there was something they wanted that I could provide to prevent the near annihilation of our country, I would have to make every effort to prevent that from happening. A video call was set up between myself and Prime Minister Loof for eight AM the twentieth of April, one PM local time in Cortuna. Loof didn't hesitate to make his position clear in his thick British accent.

"President Noonan, thank you for calling. I assume you are offering your unconditional surrender?"

"No, Prime Minister Loof, I'm hoping to negotiate a peaceful compromise."

"Let me check my battle plan. Nope, that's not on there. Next suggestion, please?"

"What is it you want?"

"I believe I've already spake that request. Anything less is unacceptable. The United States has played bully to the world for far too long. It is time you face the consequences."

"I'm sorry. Bully?"

"You help whom you wish and piss on the rest of us. I've asked for assistance to feed my people, only for it to fall on the deaf ears of the hypocrisy displayed by three of your so-called leaders. The last one, Pelson, literally told me to piss off. So, I am pissing off satellites onto the United States. You have forty-eight hours until you realize what is raining down your head is not water. I will ring you. Do not bother to attempt to do the same."

Loof disconnected and would not answer when I tried. We had forty-eight hours to put a plan in place, and execute it. I looked at the timekeeper embedded in my wrist: 8:12 AM.

I immediately called Samantha, "Sam, how many people live in Cortuna?"

"Over nine thousand at the last reliable estimate. They've nearly doubled in size in the past thirty or so years."

"How quickly can you arrange a food drop for that many?"

Samantha tried to hold back a laugh, but failed, "I'm sorry, Mr. President. You had to be joking, right?"

"Avery's fine one on one or in a small group. No, I'm dead serious. Apparently, they've asked for aid for somewhere on the order of ten years."

"Almost sixteen, actually."

"Now you're kidding."

"Sorry sir, the past two administrations have flatly denied assistance. President Pelson received those same instructions when he took office."

"Well I never got those instructions, so I'm not following them. How long?"

"Nine thousand? If I had the personnel and the funds, four, maybe five days."

"I'll get you the funds. How many more bodies would you need to do it in thirty-six hours?"

"I have twelve people in New York. Thirty-six hours? I can only guess. Forty, probably."

"Fine. Get started, I'll get them, and email you an account number to use to purchase the contents and packaging."

"I'll do it, but with hesitation. I assume they would be bound for Cortuna. I'm very uncomfortable providing assistance to people who could murder forty-two US citizens."

"I understand that. I'll tell you something but you have to promise not to say a word of it outside of the six people who met in the Oval Office on the fourteenth."

"I promise."

"To ensure that promise, you will lose your job, and likely your freedom if you break it."

"Holy shit. Okay."

"Cortuna will launch a full-force attack on the United States in less than forty-eight hours if we can't find some way to stop them."

"Can I change that holy shit?"

"Something stronger would indeed be accurate. Thanks. Get started, you'll have the bodies within a few hours."

The next call was to General Kramer to see how many worker cyborgs he had near New York. I dialed the digits and heard the nearby strains of 'Wild Blue Yonder,' apparently Kramer's ring-tone.

"Yes, Mister President?"

"Where are you, Bax?"

"In the Oval's lobby."

"Come on in, I was going to ask you to come anyway."

Baxter walked into the office.

"Good morning, Mr. President."

"For at least the eighth time, it's Avery if we're in a small group or fewer."

"Sorry, sir. Old habits die hard. How did your call with Loof go?"

"Not well. Not well at all. I'll fill you in on the details in a minute. How many worker cyborgs can you get to the UN warehouse within a few hours?"

Baxter knew questions like that had a reason behind them, but he knew it wasn't time to ask, only answer.

"Seventy, maybe more."

"Send fifty, ASAP."

Baxter made the call immediately, "Done, sir. May I ask why?"

I filled him in on the call with Loof, sparing him no details.

"I suggest we prepare for a preemptive strike, sir."

"I agree with the preparations. Make no moves that can be seen from above that could be interpreted as hostile."

"Understood, sir. Anything else?"

"Let Vidant and Wagner know I want to meet with you all here at ten."

"Will do."

"Thank you. See you shortly."

"Of course."

At ten AM, General Kramer, Secretaries Vidant and Wagner, and I were sitting on the couches in my office. I started with summaries of Cortuna's capabilities, my earlier call with Prime Minister Loof, and my request to Ambassador Worthen to make a food drop.

"I'm open to suggestions on how to proceed."

Vidant opened, "You said they had control devices. Do we know where the nukes themselves are?"

"Loof said it would rain down on our heads, and he would piss off of satellites, so I can only assume on one or more satellites, Larrison."

"Then we destroy their satellites."

Mrs. Wagner answered that, "They don't have any of their own. If their warheads are in space, they piggybacked them on someone else's."

"Then we find those and destroy them."

I replied, "Larrison, I admire your viciousness, but there are over eleven thousand of them up there. They could be on any number of them."

"Bastards."

"No argument there. Any other ideas?"

Nobody had anything.

"Okay. We have one path of recourse if the food drop doesn't appease them."

"Care to share, Avery?"

"If and when the time comes, Bax, I will."

"Understood."

19

With the extra help, Samantha Worthen had nine thousand, five hundred food packages ready in the thirty-six hours. Nineteen drones were dispatched, each carrying enough food to feed 500 Cortunans for three days. They were dropped in the most populated areas of the island. Shortly afterward, my video communicator alerted.

"Hello Prime Minister Loof, I imagine you've been informed of our food drops."

"I have. You have illegally entered our airspace. Say goodbye to a small city. No, make that one small city for each of your offending drones. One now, and another every five minutes until nineteen cities have been destroyed."

He disconnected. I immediately messaged General Kramer. The first nuke had been launched from a satellite currently above Southern California.

"Can you tell what its target is, Bax?"

"Only the general San Diego area at the moment."

"Fuck. San Diego isn't small. Can we intercept?"

"Unlikely, it's moving fast. It will hit within ten to twelve minutes."

"Shit. How long would it take to put operation White Screen into action for Cortuna?"

"You're serious?"

"Completely. Loof will kill close to half a million in the next ninety minutes."

"It will take thirty minutes to position one of White Screen's satellites. The closest is over Chad right now."

"Get it into position and launch immediately."

"But, the protocols."

"Fuck the protocols. In thirty minutes, over one hundred and fifty thousand Americans will be killed. If Loof moves on to larger cities, the death count could reach millions."

"I've been corrected, one has been shadowing the Williams."

"Launch White Screen from that satellite immediately."

"Right away sir. It will take..."

"Just do it for Christ's sake. Tell me when it's done. And try to intercept the one already on its way."

This time, I disconnected.

"Hayden!"

My Chief of Staff ran into the office.

"Yes, sir?"

"I need satellite imagery of San Diego and Cortuna piped in here now!"

"I'm on it."

Less than a minute later, two of my surveillance monitors lit up. So did my phone, with a message from Kramer.

'A second warhead has been launched, headed toward Cleveland, Ohio. Still working on intercepting the first. White Screen will launch in roughly ninety seconds.'

"Get me Cleveland up here too, Hayden."

"Right away."

I hate waiting.