CHAPTER 33

“And there’s a thunder ‘cross the land,

And a fire in the sky”

September 8th, 2040: Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Office, The White House

Rubbing his face with a mix of exhaustion and annoyance, Edwards scowled at his email inbox. Eighty-five days. Eighty-five exhausting days since the transfer and the Armed Forces' attempts at de-escalating from DEFCON 2 to 3. Unsurprisingly, the near-constant change in readiness was starting to take its toll. Then last night President Dresden dropped a bombshell and ordered REDCON level 2 (Readiness Condition) for all military installations along the west coast--with all other mainland installations being moved to level 3. At the time, none of the joint chiefs questioned it as the operation to make contact with the drone carrier was nearly ready. The preemptive move was seen as simply a safeguard. After all, who wouldn't want to pull out all the stops for something like this? 

Taking a break from his computer, Edwards stood up and slowly strolled around his office, only stopping at a picture frame from when he was a sergeant, and underneath a quote he lived by while serving.

“We the willing, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have done so much, with so little, for so long, we are now qualified to do anything, with nothing.”

“We are now qualified to do anything, with nothing.” He scoffed. “That qualifies now more than ever.” Turning to face the sole window to his office, Edwards looked on as a very late-season thunderstorm raged outside. “Maybe it’s time to make operations for Special forces insertions. It’ll be easy enough to destabilize Plusieurs, Ruppriecht and the small kingdom of Tsarlato into no longer being a threat for a while. Autoriario, Utspraakriech--and by extension, The Parliyorlik Theocracy were another problem. Do too much destabilizing, and cause a power vacuum, well, it might do more damage than intended. Possibly even leading one of the empires into aggressively expanding in the area. Then again, if it keeps Americans safe, and their focus away from us, is there really a downside?” Continuing to ponder on his own limits to which he would serve The United States his attention was only broken when the door to the office was thrown open; and in the frame, a Secret Serviceman stood tall. 

“Sir, I need you to follow me. Presidential orders.” 

Without wasting another second, Edwards complied and followed the agent through the winding halls of The White House… though he quickly noticed that they weren't going in the direction of the Oval Office. Heading down towards the official basement, Edwards was led to a very normal-looking door. The agent opened the door which led straight into what looked like overflow from the archives. The room was filled with shelves upon shelves of files, books and loose papers. Walking to a shelf in the far corner, the agent pulled down a few books, revealing a metallic scanner.         

“Sir, please place your left hand on the scanner.” The agent motioned to the biometric scanner. Doing as he was told, Edwards placed his hand on it and, after a few seconds, the bookshelf slowly swung open, revealing an open elevator. “Sir, please make your way inside.”

“Just what in the hell is going on?” For the first time in a very, very, long time Edwards was completely stumped as to why he was being led to what seemed to be a bunker. The only logical reason was nuclear warfare had broken out but that was clearly off the table. A biological attack would be plausible, but the amount of defense rings around Washington alone, also ruled that out.      

Once inside the elevator, the agent pushed the down arrow. Immediately the elevator began a rapid descent. With no door, the view into the archives quickly became a wall of concrete. Continuing to descend for what felt like minutes, the elevator came to an abrupt halt in a hallway with a door at the end, flanked by another two Secret Servicemen.

“Sir, please follow them.” Staying inside the elevator, the agent escorting Edwards motioned for him to step out, then sent the elevator and himself back up. Edwards walked up to the two agents as the one on the right also moved forward.

“Sir. I am required to confiscate your phone.” Taking it from Edwards, the agent slipped the phone inside his suit pocket. “One moment.” Turning around, the agent walked back to the door, and while obscuring a keypad, typed in a code. After a few seconds, the door opened and the agent waved Edwards through.  

Entering the bland, one-color-tone room Edwards immediately faced President Dresden, Conrad, Marshall and Secretary of Defense Benjamin Fox. All sitting around a metallic table with 2 free seats left.

“Why are we--oh shit…” Looking more closely, Edwards finally noticed the black leather briefcase that had been placed on the table. Pulling the briefcase closer to himself, President Dresden opened it and removed a laptop. He then reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a credit-card-sized orange rectangular box.

“Sir.” Not really needed, Edwards announced his presence anyway, and watched as everyone turned to give acknowledgment in the form of a simple nod. 

“Edwards.” Impassively, The President opened the laptop, revealing a black screen with a simple text line requesting a code. On the opposite side of the room, a giant screen showed North America and much of the Pacific Ocean, a single red dot blinking approximately 2,000 miles offshore; a blue dot many more hundreds of miles away; and on a slightly smaller screen, a live satellite feed of the serpent swimming on the ocean surface.  

“Conrad, is the weather holding up for this operation?” President Dresden asked, Conrad nodded in agreement.

“Wind is blowing in a south-easterly direction currently. If our predictions are accurate, the wind will carry nuclear fallout east, then north and finally further east into the Pacific. There is a chance that Hawaii and Alaska might be affected so we have teams on standby to deal with any affected areas. The drone carrier is safely out of range, however given their altitude, they will likely see the flash created by the detonation, or the onboard sensors will detect the detonation.” Hearing this, Edwards's face turned ghostly pale.

“I was under the impression this operation was biological warfare, not nuclear?” Sitting down, more for himself now, Edwards shifted his attention to The President whose expression was still devoid of emotion. 

“After giving it more thought a biological attack leaves far too many variables open, and with these serpents rendering our navy useless at the moment, we require a method of eliminating them with as little probability of failure as possible.” Holding the orange rectangle in both hands now Dresden snapped it in two, then pulled out a paper card. “It is also meant to send a very clear message to our adversaries. The other night, I was contacted by Stevens. Before he fell into a coma, he said he had met a god figure. And sometime in the past, we angered them. Effectively, we are at war with supernatural powers. And while we can’t completely confirm their existence, I believe the evidence is clear enough that we must act before they cause any more destruction.” Edwards’ mouth opened, yet no words came out as the gears in his mind ground together struggling to understand how this…..delusion rationalized a nuclear response.

“So we’re basing this whole operation on the “God Theory” being accurate? Sir, with all due respect, that theory has very little basis, and what evidence is available is extremely shaky at best.” Neither President Dresden's expression, nor focus, changed at Marshall's concern. 

“Your concern is taken under advisement Marshall. But you know how this operates.” 

And Dresden was correct. A nuclear launch was only a two-man key. The President could order a strike, the Secretary of Defence validated the codes did indeed come from the President and that it was an authentic order. Even then, the Secretary of Defence had no veto power over a nuclear strike. No one did… 

“Our citizens have been paying a price that we have yet to understand. These self-proclaimed gods will have to show themselves to us eventually, instead of hiding in the shadows. Thousands of Americans have died, and many more will. I will not allow their sacrifices to be for nothing.” Looking at the card, Dresden typed in the code then slid the laptop to Benjamin who had already snapped his own card holder. Typing in his code, the laptop sprung to life with an outpouring of code before showing a screen with nuclear launch sites, and open communication.

“Mister President. All Minuteman IVs(4) are ready for launch, awaiting orders.” Looking around the table for the last time the reactions were mixed but they all knew the answer when they saw the nuclear football.

“Fallen Angel. Commence operation Excalibur.” 

“Affirmative, receiving coordinates.” 

Turning their attention to the massive wall monitor, a launch site along the west coast lit up with a green dot, and just before five minutes had passed since the start of the operation, a Minuteman IV nuclear ICBM was launched. Watching as the green dot rapidly crossed the screen President Dresden strengthened his posture.

“May god have….. May our children forgive us for our actions today.” Focusing all of his attention on the live satellite feed, Dresden felt a slight smirk forming on his face. For once during this crisis he didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, but rather, more alive than he had ever been. 

“Seven minutes ‘til impact.” A male voice announced. 

As everyone watched the green dot rapidly moved across the screen. Edwards' military mind began to run wild. Waging conventional warfare was one thing, unconventional warfare was a different beast altogether. This was Pandora's box, and The President had just opened it willingly. 

“If the “God Theory” is indeed the correct one. What message does this send other than The United States will kill the world before it bends the knee?” Remembering his childhood, he had seen the end of the cold war, but he had heard all the noise it made--especially from his father. “Better dead than red.”, a repeated slogan. Yet the Soviet Union was an adversary that they could properly comprehend--fellow humans. This time, they were going against… things they knew nothing about other than “They might be gods?”. Just how the hell were they supposed to win against gods? Destroy faith in those gods?”

“Two minutes ‘til impact.” 

Lifting up his left wrist to watch the minute hand on his watch tick down, Edwards felt the hairs on his neck stand up, followed by a cold shiver down his spine. Briefly looking around, everyone else was still focused on the satellite feed, yet in the air was a near inaudible hum. Scanning the bunker, Edwards's eyes locked onto a piece of blank concrete wall to his left. He couldn't see anything, yet his senses told him otherwise.

“Thirty seconds ‘til impact.”

Thoroughly confused by what was happening to him, Edwards' gaze darted between the satellite feed and the wall where the metaphysical presence was. He once again felt cold air brush through him, then sounds from his fellow advisors in the bunker. Looking back to the satellite feed, the Minuteman had found its mark and detonated right on top of the serpent. Immediately the feed zoomed out as the blast radius vaporized nearby clouds. The mushroom cloud grew taller at a rate of hundreds of feet per second. Looking closer at the feed, no one could see past the fireball to determine if the serpent was indeed dead. Turning to face the joint chiefs, President Dresden's smile did not waiver.

“Everyone. Today marks a day that will go down in history--be it one we can tell, only time will tell. We may not know why we were brought here, be it quantum forces, supernatural beings or something else entirely, but we, The United States of America, will not go down without a fight. And if The United States is here to stay, then we will bend this world to our will, and ours alone.”