World War III
By David Busch and Nathan A. Howard
It was a foggy morning as usual in San Francisco. This twentieth century metropolis had expanded to hold seventeen million. It was that cold winter morning on January 15, 2402 that the United Communists—referred to as the UC, which comprised of Southeast Asia, Japan, China, and Korea (recently reunited)—would start World War 3. The reason behind the whole war was Great Powers treaty which had set the boundaries for both coalitions here on Earth but the colonization of near Earth planets, moons, and asteroids were not settled in the treaty. The race between each coalition to gain the upper hand in technology for defense and near space travel was the spark that would soon start a bon fire.
A few people noticed that some unusual fighters with delta wings [a single, large, triangular wing], canards [small horizontal stabilizers on the nose], a single vectored engine [an engine that can direct thrust], and single tail approaching San Francisco and heading for the air base nearby. Before the unusual aircraft had reached San Francisco, a multitude of laser blasts from several the UC space based lasers ravaged downtown San Francisco, destroying most of the downtown area. The Alpha Strike soon followed, where Hypersonic Strike Planes flew single file at low level at mach 13 within a certain interval of time, increasing the potency of the shock wave with each additional plane. They then returned to the city—after almost everybody within the strike zone had been deafened, all glass objects shattered, and massive damage done to the structures within the zone—and dropped their cargo of bombs over whatever structures remained.
The Beta Strike soon followed where a full wing [108 aircraft] of MiG-42 ACs—the all condition strike plane that the now nonexistent residents of San Francisco saw—loosed laser fire onto whatever form of resistance that they saw threatening to them, usually butchering the remainder of the civilian population.
"Sir, we have positive identification on the incoming bogeys. They're a wing of MiG-42 ACs," stated the air traffic controller to the wing commander over the com link.
"Are all six squadrons of the F-42 ACs in the air" responded the wing commander.
"Yes sir."
The screen in front of the air traffic controller showed two clouds of dots converge in the middle. One by one dots faded, half the time accompanied by a death scream and a flash in the sky as one of the F-42's met its end, sending parts of metal raining down on whatever was below.
"Sir, the battle is fairing badly for us. Should I release the micro planes"
"Yes"
Another cloud of dots came from the left of the screen to join the diminishing cloud in the middle of the screen. Each one of these three hundred strong dots represented the flat, bubble shaped, flying homing planes that carried quite a punch with them. The micro planes continued with their suicide mission to down the remaining bandits heading for the air base. Lines of smoke now filled the battlefield as more and more missiles were being launched, each side almost bingo on missiles. Each plane hoping that this missile would down that elusive enemy—sometimes in their sights—rolling, looping, and feinting in front of them, before an enemy from behind downed them and put them permanently out of commission. The sound of thunder started to increase from the battle field, reached a climax, along with the frantic death screams and orders over the tactical net—or tac-net, as the pilots call it—and then faded as the battered Fifty-fifth North American Wing retreated back to the air base. Only three flights of airplanes alive, or eighteen airplanes, survived, all the pilots tired yet high on adrenaline, leaving the field dotted with wreckage and burning aircraft.
"We have confirmation that the bogeys are down, sir. I am sending a team out to gather the wreckage," answer the air traffic controller crisply.
"Very well. I will inform the Global Department of Defense about your findings. This never happened, Those were not enemy planes but three of ours performing a mock dogfight that crashed. A meteorite destroyed San Francisco," stated the squadron commander with a grim sense that the war everyone was preparing for that no one wanted to see had started, and with it, possibly, humanity.
"Patch me through to General Alf Viedersien," ordered the wing commander from his ready room.
"General Alf Viedersien here. The connection is secure on my side, is it on yours?," said the portrait of a wizened general with a thick German accent on the conference screen hanging from the wall. The picture was of a very old, decrepit man that inspired awe inside of the onlooker.
"Affirmative sir," replied the squadron commander.
"You may proceed. Speak freely if you wish," replied the general rather lackadaisically. One of the things that General Alf Viedersien hated was useless protocol.
"We have positive identification that the wing that attacked us were MiG-24AC's. The city of San Francisco is now nothing but a burnt out patch of rubble, we are currently looking for survivors, but none have been found. We need to break the news to the Global Senate, after we tell the Global President and his Joint Chiefs of Staff. The one thing that we discovered from one of the planes with a reasonably intact cockpit was the onboard computer and its neural connection; this is why those damn MiGs can out maneuver our planes even though they shouldn't. The rest of the wreckage told us nothing we already knew with the exception of the C-60 Armor, which is needed to give our F-42 AC the ability to withstand deep ocean patrols. Other than that, there is nothing else to report, sir," and the squadron commander wrapping up the report.
"Thank you, your cooperation will be noted. But as of right now, you're placed on Top Secret seal. If anybody tries to leave, enter, or make a communication to the outside world--with the exception of you--they are to be immediately shot, and then interrogated if they survive. If any plane flies overhead, you are to shoot it down understand?" the general ordered, a very deep sense of seriousness ran throughout his voice.
"Yes sir. One last thing, though, anything about any future strikes or that satellite," asked the squadron commander.
"A few of the satellites were captured after ours shot off their solar panels, and we will keep you posted on any future strikes. Just in case, you better send me any of the information you recovered, if that reaches here, it would give us an edge that could win this conflict before we end up with a war on our hands."
"Yes sir. Proceeding with the transfer."
The general looked off-screen talking with an aid. When he appeared onscreen again he had a very troubled look on his face.
"Looks the conflict just escalated to a war. You have another full wing of MiG-24 AC's headed for your position. It also looks like they have MiG-52 HSP [Hypersonic Strike Plane] headed for your position. Be prepared for a full Alpha and Beta Strike. Estimates are around one hundred 24's and five HSPs, ETA ten minutes. Your main concern is to get the data sent. Reinforcements will be sent, but they will arrive four minutes after the strike force arrives. You understand that the reinforcements will not arrive if you happen to break the uploading of the information. We need not sacrifice more pilots to a war machine that caught us with our pants down. After all, it is better to lose a few fingers than the whole hand. Good luck."
With that the portrait of the general faded from the wall replaced by a painting of the classic F-22. The squadron commander sank in his chair momentarily with a deep sense of unadulterated terror running through him. With that he said to an aid: "Get me on the intercom."
"This is Squadron Command Billy-Bob Floyd. There is a massive strike force headed this way. All pilots report to the hangar for immediate take-off, the rest of base operations personnel, report to your assigned combat bunkers. Ready the SAM [Surface to Air Missiles] turrets for firing. Take only the necessary materials with you, including the desktop computer core," stated the squadron commander. The desktop computer core is the same dimensions as a one subject, Five Star notebook, with the weight of one pound. The squadron commander continued on: "Good luck to the pilots and good hunting. That is all."
If only the squadron commander knew of the hopelessness of the situation...
"Wing Commander Ching Hui the Alpha Strike is complete and the Beta Strike is ready sir!" reported the XO [Executive Officer].
"Let ‘em fly." responded the general.
"All planes clear for take off!" was blared over the loud speaker.
"God be with them all in this glorious day of revenge that will live forever in the memories of the people." announced the General.
"Get into Beta Strike formation and prepare for attack," barked First Tactical Group Commander Mo Thing Lou.
"Roger." stated the other three pilots.
"Target incoming 400 kilometers, 300, 200, ready for combat. Prepare for deceleration from mach 5 to mach 2. I would like to see all of us make it home. We've got 100 micros [micro-airplanes] on our tail. Split up and goose it. We've got to do a few fly byes at mach 5 to take care of most of them. Watch out for those damn SAMs!"
"Sir, that's suicide! If our fuselages are breached by their explosions, we WON'T survive it," squeaked the Third Squadron Commander.
"That's a chance that I am willing to take and it is the only option we have. If you want to turn back go ahead."
"No sir, that would be most dishonorable."
"Then shut your trap and fly, or I'll take control of your squadron AND shoot you down myself."
And with that the Beta Strike Group of the Fourth Assault Wing annihilated what was left of the San Francisco Base with a sadistic glee unknown to most people.
"What's the report on the San Francisco Base?" asked General Alf Vierdersien.
"Completely destroyed sir," answered the Swedish aide.
"Any news on the transmission?"
"We did get part of the schematics for the neural link, and almost all of the C-60 Armor analyzed."
"Is there enough information for us to put either into use?"
"On the armor, yes. On the neural link, possibly with a little more research, we also need to develop more of our knowledge on the human brain before we can use it, though."
"Then start producing a fleet of the completed F-42 ACs into production at Asteroid Factory Beta [the largest UN controlled Factory inside an asteroid in the Asteroid Belt]. And get a few frigates [about the size of a late twentieth century frigate except in space] on satellite hunting duty. If we want to win this war, we need to take the high ground."
"Sir, what about the Shogun"
"That derelict space battle cruiser [about the size of two late twentieth century battleships] isn't space worthy now!"
"Agreed sir."
"Any of underwater mountain cities still surviving in the Pacific Ocean?"
"The UC have been popping our underwater cities like unwanted pimples. We might have to start bringing them to the surface, and relocate them, so we don't lose any more lives. We at least need to keep Mount Helena, underwater near the Galapagos Islands, intact. That is our biggest mine on Earth. It is too valuable to fall into enemy hands. I suggest that we scuttle it if need be."
"If we start bringing up all those people, it will draw resources from our land defenses which CANNOT be compromised. I might also add that we don't have the transports to save them right now and we can't spare any metal or other resources to build them. They're going to have to defend themselves. On another subject, when is the soonest that we can liberate the hydroponics facilities in the Sierras? We need to get that to Mars as soon as possible. One thing I'm glad that happened is that we cheated the UC out of Mars."
"The hydroponics facility is still intact, although all the territory around it has fallen to Gamma Strikes." Gamma Strikes is where the enemy brings in ground forces and captures the land previously ravaged by the Alpha and Beta Strikes.
"What is the status of the Western Siberian mining operations?"
"They have all fallen to the UC. That gives them all of Siberia."
"Is the Matter-Plasma Rail Gun Projection Cannon research complete?"
"Yes and the soup shooter—as they're called—are completed and installed into all frigates and battle cruisers."
"Any other North American cities attacked?"
"All major cities on the Western Seaboard cities destroyed?"
"All of them are completely destroyed, sir."
"Great, dismissed," the general said as if he had just been defeated.
"Yes sir."
General Alf Viedersien looked out the window feeling like the whole world was going to end, knowing that this war was going to either make or break the UN.
"Sir, we have advanced intelligence coming in from our spy on the UN Assault Space Station [orbiting the Earth]. He confirms the report that the UN has recovered the necessary technology from our crashed MiGs from the San Francisco City Assault. If we don't neutralize the threat in North America, we will never succeed in achieving our goal of eradicating democracy from Terra [Earth], the UN and all sympathizers with it," reported the Oriental spy almost looking like a European.
"Then we must move quickly. You are to leave the station on the next shuttle. You know where your MiG is hidden. Use it once you've landed and made your way out of the city. North America will be ours by early April IF we press hard and take the rest of the major cities now," stated the spy.
"Thank you. Dismissed," ordered the Chief Intelligence Officer.
Now, thought the Chief Intelligence Officer, if we could only find out about that illusive new battle cruiser that they're building.
The new shipment of the F-42 ACs were completed, and one wing was shipped to Mount Helena inside of a new carrier. Lights around the mountain lit up the area around it, showing the docking station so that the carrier could enter the mountain and deliver its precious cargo of planes and pilots. Unfortunately for them, the UC happened to be in the area, and saw a glow of light, and went to investigate, hoping that it wasn't another pair of those dammed giant squid doing something they'd rather not know about. But, as luck would have it, they found Mount Helena.
"Deploy the sonic bombs," said the wing commander on the UC carrier, bristling with lasers and torpedo tubes. The sonic bombs are devices about the size of a basketball that emit a certain frequency of sound at certain intervals that weakens structural integrity on even the strongest of structures to the point of collapsing.
"The sonic bombs are in position, should we activate them?" replied an ensign on the carrier.
"Yes, all weapons stand by. Shut them down when the structural integrity of the mountain reaches fifty percent," replied the wing commander.
"They've deployed sonic bombs on us!" yelled one of the engineers in the control room inside of Mount Helena.
"CRAP! Arm the nuke. If this is a standard strike then they'll deploy their MiGs to soften up our defenses, and then they'll take us over. Are any of our external lasers functional?" said the colonel in the control room.
"Their all down. Should we use the carrier for bait, and deploy our newly acquired wing of F-42's?" replied another engineer.
"Yes. May we all survive to see the next day," stated the colonel grimly.
The UN carrier emerged from the side of the mountain but not quick enough to dodge the waiting UC carrier, which lit up the nearby ocean with laser fire and torpedoes, holing the UN carrier in several places. The dim background of the deep sea contrasted to the bright explosion of the carrier, followed by its implosion and a field of bubbles rising as the wreckage from the ship sank to the ocean floor making a muffled thud. Then the full wing of F-42's came out of the mountain, giving the effect that a swarm of bees was descending upon a harasser of the hive. The MiGs swarmed from the remaining carrier, eager to engage the F-42's. This time it would be different.
Each side fought valiantly, the F-42's held the upper edge now, their full potential had been reached with the neural link, which connected the mind of the pilot to the body of the plane, giving the pilot intimate control over the aircraft. The sonic bombs were the first target of the enraged F-42's, and the first to go, each going in a flash of light. Both planes lacked the speed they enjoyed in aerial battles, but vastly enjoyed the gained maneuverability. The MiGs were quickly dispatched by the F-42's, who quickly turned on the carrier, a fruitless gesture of useless valor. The space around UC carrier filled with flashes of light as each aircraft tried to find the Achilles hill of the carrier, but they all failed miserably.
"Use the nuke!" yelled the colonel desperately. A white flash started from deep inside the mountain, quickly expanding until the entire area around it was nothing but vapor, sending a shock wave from that blast that would do more damage to the UC than the UN could hope to do.
"Sir, we have some good news and some bad news," stated the aide.
"What's the bad news?" asked General Alf Viedersien, ready to hear that another part of North America, probably the Rocky Mountains this time, had been taken over. The UC successfully captured South and Central America, the Western Seaboard of North America, all of Alaska, and most of Western Canada by late March, usually slaughtering the inhabitants of whatever city they came across, this was so bad, that it made the Holocaust look like a pizza shop bombing.
"The UC has pushed all the way to Denver, but they still haven't found our hydroponics plant near what was Los Angeles in the Sierras or our capital near what was Anchorage in the Rocky Mountains. We also lost Mount Helena, they used the nuke after their wing was destroyed."
"What's the good news, and don't tell me that we made further developments on the F-42 AC," retorted the general.
"The Annihilator is complete," stated the aide. The Annihilator is the Battle Cruiser to be outfitted with a main soup shooter, nearly one third of its length, capable of ripping any frigate in half, and the smaller ones—usually on frigates—around its middle, along with four ion cannons equidistant to two of the soup shooters. The Annihilator could hold up to five wings of aircraft, and launch all five hundred of the aircraft from its fifty launching bays in a matter of minutes.
"That's very good news, how much longer do we have to delay before the rest of the evacuations are completed?"
"About another month, and all of the remainder of North America will be evacuated to the various Mars bases. The people from Europe and what territory we held in Asia are already on Mars, although we will have to leave a few assets behind such as our various mining facilities, but the operations in the Asteroid Belt more than compensates for that. The estimated time of arrival for the Annihilator and the gathering of the fleet is about half a month. By then we should have sufficient fire power to liberate the Hydroponics facility, actually a ship built inside a mountain, and take it with us to Mars."
"And about their satellites and space-based lasers?"
"Their victory over us will come at a cost: they will have communications network, space stations, or space based defenses."
The general smiled slyly, but he knew that this forced relocation of this civilization would take sometime. This might be the fuel he needed to win this conflict. After all, if he did serious damage to the defensive capability of the UC, and kept the hydroponics facility, which produced enough food for two hundred million people, this would be a simple mop up operation once they returned. Mars was coming into view at his Phoebes moon base. If only that red dirt ball could be replaced by the blue and green sphere he called home.
"Those micro-planes proved to be pretty useless, right?" the general said, breaking the long silence.
"Yes sir, we stopped producing them after the San Francisco fiasco. We did suspect the UC to make its move, but this was to soon for any of us to defend decently against it."
The general dismissed the aide, and then looked out at the empty vastness of space, hoping to see Terra before he would die at the old age of one hundred and fifty.
By mid March and twenty million lives later. The UN made its final decisive attack, to rescue the hidden hydroponics facility. The Annihilator, frigates, and carriers that comprised of the UN space fleet were stationed in its orbit. The remainder of the space based defenses of the UC made an attempt to stop it. Each of the five carriers deployed their wing of aircraft, sending a total of 540 F-42 ACs into the space around the combatants. The UC responded by deploying their MiGs, a total of 648. The space around the mess of spacecraft filled with flashes of light as each side went at each other. The planes were now much more sluggish, so spacecraft on each side enjoyed taking shots at enemy aircraft passing by. The twin towers of each soup shooter started to glow with an eerie white energy that converged near the base of each set. Finally the energy solidified into a pocket of white gasses in a plasma state with the scattered iron atoms inside, then slung between the towers and onto its target with grim accuracy. The shot from the main soup shooter on the Annihilator nailed a UC carrier right on the broadside, sending white energy flying in all directions, neatly ripping the poor derelict carrier in half, and then the halves turned into briefly glowing spheres, fading into the recesses of the human mind. The only sounds from the battle were that of shots hitting the hulls of the ship, heard by that ship's personnel. Outside, there was an eerie silence. The secondary soup shooters and the ones on the frigates made nice temporary white spheres, taking critical armor plating with them. The F-42s were firing their missiles, leaving trails of gasses criss-crossing the battle field, sometimes nailing a MiG, other times helping to drive the stake through the heart of the enemy by firing on the holes in their armor, the rest of the times, the stray missiles went into oblivion. Electro Magnetic Pulse proximity charges were deployed around the battle field, most were destroyed, but the few that survived used their deadly pulse to kill electronics in whatever passing by. This resulted in a few aircraft losing control and heading on the same course into oblivion and weapons on part of a few ships ceasing to function. Between the shots of the soup shooters, the ion and laser cannons on each ship were firing, sending red and yellow bolts at the enemy ships until only the Shogun remained.
The Annihilator and Shogun faced off, firing laser burst at each other, with the occasional ion cannon shot nailing the ship. Electro Magnetic Pulse proximity charges were sent from ship into the space around the other, hoping that the opposing ship would wander near it. But all were either destroyed or sent into oblivion. About fifteen minutes into the fight between the two, neither doing anymore than superficial damage to the other and taking out a laser embattlement, the main soup shooter on the Annihilator was fully charged. The shot went two kilometers from the top of the twin towers of the Annihilator to the very front of the Shogun. The deadly superheated gasses washed over the hull, eating away the entire armor on the bow of the spaceship. When the plasma mixed with air, it set fire to it, incinerating the front fourth of the ship from the initial contact. With only a fourth of the plasma remaining, it found its way to the plasma coil power generators in the middle of the ship—most of the time preceded by a rapidly advancing holocaust—and ruptured them, damming the Shogun to oblivion. With the release of its plasma from their generators, the spacecraft expanded in a rapidly growing field of expanding destruction, and then faded into space dust from which the stars and planets were born. The UC flagship Shogun was no more.
"Sir, the frigates are not trans-atmospheric [can go from space to the atmosphere and back again] and the carriers have sustained to much damage to survive an atmosphere reentry. Should we deploy the F-42's?" asked the XO.
"Yes, all five wings of them from the Annihilator. Tell the Fourth Aeronautical Wing that Alpha Group, all three squadrons, are to secure the north half of the area around the hydroponics ship, while the Beta Group, all three squadrons, are to secure the south half of the area. The other four wings are to secure a cardinal direction around the Hydroponics ship, let the Wing Commanders figure out who gets what," ordered General Alf Viedersien on the bridge of the Annihilator.
"Yes, sir"
The air around that one mountain filled with five hundred of the F-42 ACs, taking the older and less efficient MiG 24 ACs out with ease, this time with the C-60 armor on their side and the advent of the neural net. Fireballs that were once MiGs filled the air around the F-42s, taking out the whole wing, after all, who wouldn't win with five to one odds in their favor? The area had been secured.
"All planes return to the Annihilator for repairs, we need to get you ready within fifteen minutes incase we see a counterstrike!" ordered the general over the tactical network, or tac-net.
Within half an hour, all the charges had been armed, and then the mountain started breathing dust. The tip of the mountain was blown of, in a spectacle that rivaled Mount Saint Helen's back during the 1980's, then came more and more of the top until enough was blown away that the Hydroponics Ship lifted off on it's anti gravity engines. By this time the Annihilator was in a decent, and it spotted another squadron heading in from the north. By the time they had reached the area where the two ships were, the main soup shooter had been armed, and fired, sending a breath of fire like that of a dragon, a REALLY BIG dragon. What few planes survived the onslaught of the superheated gasses igniting the air around them into a firestorm abruptly turned around and fled at top speed to wherever they came from. The rescue of the Hydroponics ship was a success, and the Mars Bases were assured survival.
Two months later the UC started their ground invasion of Europe and prepared to take the remaining hydroponics facilities through which spies had located. The ground invasion was short but sweet, and the whole world turned communist in a matter of weeks. Although a 1984 scenario was set into motion, where the population was controlled by propaganda, the UN Terra capital destroyed, and the hydroponics were taken and used as a threat against the unfortunate people that the UN had left behind to join them or starve to death. The UN did manage to get 290 million people off Terra and relocated them Mars to live for the rest of their lives, until they returned once the UN had built up enough of an army to recapture what was rightfully theirs, which was only a matter of time….
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