CHAPTER 35

“The 25th Hour”

     

September 9th, 2040, The Oval Office

 

Twirling his pen in his right hand, President Dresden continued to stare at the incident report rather than the joint chiefs sitting on the two couches. With a heavy exhale he set his pen down on the report.

“You know what this forces me to do, right? Someone has to take the fall.” Dresden sighed. 

“Sir, with all due respect. It was no longer a protest at that point, but a riot. We had an obligation to put it down.” One general countered.

“I understand that, but the media is pushing a different story on how the civilians were treated. Thirty-five are in hospital and seven are dead. And the fact that this happened here makes it worse. I asked for the protest to be contained, not agitated. And what’s this about the police in Denver Colorado just… surrendering to the protesters there? Nearly half of my daily brief is filled with these types of reports.” Dresden states, confused by the local law enforcement response, a general answered, sweat forming around his forehead.      

“Sir, we’ve deployed everyone we can. Park Police, National Guard, Secret Service and even Prison Special Operations. But we simply do not have the manpower to contain these protests. My advice is we use the Insurrection Act in our favor. Send in the army to regain control, then have local authorities contain the protests.”

“Initiating the Insurrection Act is a significant step, sir.” Another general stated. “If we put our soldiers on the streets, there will be debates about civil liberties and state autonomy. This might even cost you your term”

“Better for me to be impeached than to see this nation fall into chaos. Now, where are we with finding a solution to our logistics problem in New Europe?”

“Here, sir.” The general handed over a bulky file. President Dresden scanned through the first few pages. “Operation Postmaster, sir. Taking what we learned with the creation and heavy use of the Mulberry harbors during World War Two, there’s a plan to create a modernized version and, although a landing zone is still being scouted, we are confident we can pull this off. Once the harbor is created, we can expect to have enough capacity and infrastructure for any large-scale military north of The Elven Forest. Though we still highly recommend the construction of railways to aid in relieving logistical pressure on truck convoys during peacetime or should we find the harbor able to handle more traffic. We also have the option of making it a commercial area.”

“And just how much would all of this cost?” 

“We’re asking for a budget of seven billion, sir.” With a huff, President Dresden handed back the file.

“Seven billion, that’s all you’re getting. We don’t have the leeway for a financial blackhole and I certainly don’t want another F-22 program situation.” 

“Sir.” At the back of the office, another general produced a file. “On the topic of New Europe, here is the report you requested from the DoD (Department of Defense) concerning troop readiness.” Handing over the file, the general continued. “Due to the scattered nature of the transfer, and our soldiers having to abandon the majority of their heavy equipment, we have condition reports of divisions missing up to 67%; and there’s a need to keep deterrence high for us to combat The Autoriario Empire, The Utspraakriech Empire and The Parliyorlik Theocracy. However, there is currently no port of sufficient size for transportation and without proper naval infrastructure, it’s not logistically feasible to deploy or resupply heavy equipment such as the Abrams M2A1, M1299, Typhoon system, Patriot system, and many others. To counter this, the DoD has started procurement of air-transferable equipment. Namely, the M10 “Brooker”, KF-41 “Lynx” and Strykers have been sent to replace losses. The DoD has also elected to send out M1288 GMVs, Infantry Squad Vehicles (ISV) and Oshkosh L-ATVs. Specifically with the Oshkosh L-ATVs, a portion will be outfitted with JAGM Quad Launchers. Giving our soldiers some much-needed teeth.”

“I can see that it will take months--if not a full year, to procure all of this.” The President replied. “By that time, I assume, if all goes well, Operation Postmaster will have been completed?” He looked back to the first general who nodded in agreement.

“We are aiming to have the harbor completed by late July, the latest we can push it would be November. Beyond that the North Atlantic becomes too rough to safely transport the sections. Now, what other--” Before Dresden could finish, his desk phone rang. Annoyed, he answered it.

“What? I’m in a meeting.”

“Apologies sir, but you are needed in the PEOC (Presidential Emergency Operations Center).” A male voice responded.

“Can’t it wait?” 

“No sir, it’s in regard to Contact Mamba. Edwards and Marshall say it’s urgent.” 

“Alright, I’m on my way.” Practically throwing the phone back onto the receiver, Dresden stood up and began walking from the oval office. “My attention is needed elsewhere. No one leaves until I return, understood?” Immediately, everyone nodded. With that, Dresden left the room closely followed by two secret servicemen--one of them clutching the nuclear football handcuffed to his right wrist. 

Starting the long walk from the East Wing all the way to the West Wing President Dresden was hit with a wave of déjà vu from the first time he was practically dragged from The Oval Office to the emergency bunker. Yet unlike how frantic everyone was during that nightmare of a day, it was now business as usual. A new normal had finally set in. 

Passing through The Residence and finally into the East Wing Dresden made his way through the undisclosed hallways and tunnels until finally reaching the PEOC. Upon stepping inside he was immediately greeted by a flurry of activity. Most noticeably Edwards, Marshall and Conrad crowded around the glass table along with other military personnel.

“We have MQ-9Bs stationed on the USS Ronald Reagan. I can move that Strike Group into the area.” Marshall then pointed to a map on the table.

“What other vessels do we have inside that group?” Edwards questioned.

“Destroyer Squadron 15, all of which are the new Farragut-class. We also have all three Zumwalts stationed in Hawaii, one of them is the testbed for a working rail gun though I highly recommend against sending them. Do you want me to order the rest to deploy?”

“Yes, we need all the firepower we can muster, what about the air force, Conrad?”

“We have two squadrons of F/A-25s ready to scramble, and--”

“Just what in hell has happened to warrant this reaction!” Reaching the table, Dresden looked down to see a multitude of photos of the open ocean with one clear distinction. Blood, and a lot of it.

“Sir. After the tactical nuclear strike against contact Mamba, it completely disappeared from the surface. Initial thought was that it had been vaporized, but roughly twelve hours later, satellites picked up this massive blood spill approximately 1,400 miles from Hawaii.” Sliding the photos over to Dresden, Edwards simply watched as he studied the images.

“If that thing somehow survived………” Dresden continued to stare at the photos in disbelief until the landline began to ring. Conrad leaned over to read the caller ID.

“It’s the CIA. L.A office.” Answering the call and placing it on speaker so everyone could hear muffled noises from the phone.

A female voice replied, “Mister President, Echelon twelve. One of our satellites flagged a series of images from ten minutes ago, roughly eighty-three miles from the blood spill. It’s Contact Mamba… it’s still alive.”

Her statement was met with deafening silence. Surely this was something that only happened in the movies? Yet here in reality was the prospect of something having survived a direct nuclear attack. Everyone in the PEOC was given pause for thought. 

“Get us live feed of the area.” Breaking the silence, Edwards leaned towards the phone.

“Already doing so.” Hearing this everyone in the room turned to face the massive wall monitor. As they did, a satellite live feed showed the sea serpent. Very much alive and swimming just beneath the blood-saturated surface. Placing both hands on the table to steady himself, President Dresden looked at the serviceman with the nuclear football, then back at Edwards whose face had turned slightly pale.

“Sir, a nuclear detonation at this range to Hawaii has the chance of causing irreversible damage to the islands.”

“Edwards is correct. The prevailing wind in this location would blow all the nuclear fallout directly over the Hawaiian Island chain.” Conrad added.

“Then what do you suggest? Because at this point I am all out of ideas!” Dresden roared. “Unless there's some black program for a super weapon I have no knowledge of, we’re shit out of luck.” 

“Wait. What’s it doing?” Focusing more on the monitor than the president's outburst Marshall studied the serpent's sporadic movements. “Holy shit. Look at the midpoint of its body.” Turning to the table and then back to the monitor once everyone else was also looking, Dresden smiled as he saw what Marshall had pointed out.

Though the serpent was alive and kicking, there was a massive, gaping wound in the middle of its body. Around the wound, the greenish-blue shimmering scales had been overtaken by an inky black mass with red glowing veins shooting off like tree roots. 

“So we did do damage, just not enough.” Crossing his arms, Dresden noticed something else. At the center of the wound, just slightly exposed, a pulsating white light gleamed. “What’s with the light?” Immediately everyone looked closer to see what the President had spotted. 

“Could it be the serpent's skeleton?” Conard raised an eyebrow at his own answer, not sure if he believed it himself. 

“Or maybe…” Trailing off, Dresden then turned to the landline phone. “Echelon twelve, you still with us?” 

“Yes, Mister President.” 

“What do you have on magic gemstones?” Immediately through the phone, a flurry of keyboard taps could be heard before the operator responded.

“There are five gemstones. Each has an associated color ranging with power. From lowest to highest; yellow, orange, blue, green and purple. We do have very, very loose information about a sixth gemstone. However, we don’t have anything further than “It may or may not exist”.” 

“Do gemstones pulsate light?” After another flurry of keyboard taps, they had their answer.

“Yes. They pulsate their corresponding color.”

Turning back to the monitor and peering closer at the white pulsating light a plan began to form in Dresden's mind. 

“Deploy the strike group to the area--including the Zumwalt with the railgun. I want everything this fleet has fired at that object. I believe we’ve just exposed its heart, so to speak.” 

“Sir, while I can see the reason behind the deployment of the strike group, the USS Zumwalt is nowhere near combat-ready. Hell, the last railgun test caused the ship to short-circuit itself and it needed to be towed back to port.” Marshall countered.

“While I am inclined to agree with you.” Edwards replied. “After the incident with Task Force Pioneer, I doubt we’ll get anything within 100 miles of that serpent before it dives for cover far below the ocean surface. We will need to use the USS Ronald Reagan as bait to lure it out of hiding and even then, I’m not sure if it will go for it.”

“Depending on the depth the serpent goes, the Farragut-class destroyers can use active sonar and torpedoes to force it to confront us.” Marshall turned to Dresden. “Sir. I need you to understand that this has a million-to-one chance of going our way. We can’t afford to lose another carrier strike group.”

“Which is why only the Farragut-class destroyers will be getting anywhere close to it, the USS Ronald Reagan will be as far back as the sea guardian’s range will allow. How long do you need to prepare?”

“Three days. Give me three days and the task force will be ready.” 

“Good. Is that all or is there--” Before he could finish, the secret service serviceman without the nuclear football walked up to Dresden with a phone.

“Apologies sir but you have a priority call from Walter Reed Medical Center.” 

Not wasting another moment, Dresden snatched the phone and quickly walked off to find a private office. 

“Stevens?”

“No, it’s Doctor Lowe.”

“Oh, okay. How is Stevens?” Finding an office, Dresden shut the door behind him.

“Stevens… passed away twenty minutes ago. I’m sorry.”

“W-what? How?” Immediately, Dresden felt his legs wanting to give out from under him. Leaning against the door, he continued to listen.

“Stevens had what we assume was some form of radiation poisoning. From what little information I was given from the CIA, they suspect the cause of death to be “Mana Sickness” or “Mage Burn”. It caused Stevens to go into a coma, then heart failure.”

Taking the phone away from his ear Dresden ended the call, and with what strength he had left, walked over to the desk and set down the smartphone. Only to pick up the landline and throw it against the wall, showering the room with dozens of pieces of plastic. Not bothering to find a chair, he dropped to the ground sobbing. After eighty-six days of barely holding it together, the dam had finally burst, and with it came a wave of despair, anguish and sorrow. 

“I… I can’t do this anymore… I just… want this nightmare to end.”

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