"It's not a joke! Do you have a TV? Do you watch the news? The Russians are invading!" Halverson nearly screamed at the family.
"They were talking about some kind of military maneuver on the morning show," said the mother. "And now there's some weird news program on every channel."
As the snowmobile engines grew louder, the teenager, unfazed by Halverson's pistol, darted to the front window, peeked past the curtain. "She's not lying. Looks like soldiers out there. They're coming!"
"I'll get my rifle," said the father. "Joey, you take her and your mom to the basement."
"We can't stay. We have to go!" Halverson said.
"Well, Major, you picked the wrong address, because my pickup's battery is dead, and the one tractor I have would never outrun them. I was supposed to drive my boy to school."
Halverson waved the pistol, tipped her head toward the window. "Those are Spetsnaz troops. Do you know what that means?"
"It means you'd better get in the basement!" cried the father.
Without time to think, Halverson followed the boy and his mother through the kitchen, past an open door, and down a flight of rickety wooden steps. It was a full cellar, the entire footprint of the house, cluttered with boxes, machinery, a washing machine and dryer, and clothes hanging from lines spanning the room.
The boy, Joey, switched the light off, but a dim shaft filtered in through the single window, up near the ceiling. Then he headed toward the back, where he wanted to hide between sheets of plywood leaning against the wall.
"No," said Halverson. "You and your mom stay here. I'm under the steps. Go."
Even as she spoke, a crash resounded from upstairs, and a man shouted in a thick Russian accent, "Come out, Yankee pilot!"
TWENTY-FIVE.
President Becerra leaned forward in his seat aboard Air Force One and sharpened his tone. "Prime Minister, Spetsnaz forces are in the streets of Edmonton and Calgary."
Emerson's tone turned equally sharp. "I'm well aware of that, Mr. President."
"They've captured your communications uplinks and early warning radar, and they've hacked in to and now control your power grid."
"Yes, they have."
"And my advisors tell me they've already begun psychological operations using their new 130X electronic warfare planes. The Euros took out their first two, but two more are in the air. They're taking control of your radio, TV, Internet, even military communications channels."
"I know that."
"My SEALs and Special Forces have infiltrated those areas, but they're only gathering intel. They tell me some of your local fire and police are fighting back, but they need help. They need you to take official military action, otherwise I'll be watching executions on CNN."
"Mr. President-"
"They'll move your women and children to holding areas, to separate families and sow terror. This is what they do, Prime Minister. This is how they control cities-through fear and intimidation."
Becerra glanced over at Hellenberg. The White House Chief of Staff shook his head from the other side of the table. He was off camera, but that didn't matter. Becerra displayed enough disgust for both of them.
Emerson thought a moment. "I spoke with Kapalkin. If I make a move, the hammer will come down. I won't do this."
"He's bluffing. He doesn't have the resources. And he knows the Euros will be in Edmonton soon."
"I think he's right. I think we have less to lose if we do nothing. And if we play the victim of two evil superpowers, we might actually gain something: the world's sympathy."
"Prime Minister, you're making a terrible mistake. This is your Pearl Harbor. It's your time."
"No. Not yet."
"If not now, then when?"
"The situation is being carefully evaluated."
"That's a line for the media, not for me. Come on, Prime Minister! Together we can shut them down. Otherwise, it'll take time, resources, and your people will suffer the consequences."
"I understand."
"I hope so. Because at this time I'm informing you that one of our Stryker Combat Brigade Teams is en route to Calgary to help evacuate your civilians. They also have orders to take out enemy positions designated by our SEALs and Special Forces. I'm not asking for your permission, Prime Minister. If you won't save your own people, we will, because doing so is in the best interests of the United States."
Emerson slammed a fist on his desk, "Damn you, Becerra, you have no idea what a position I'm in! No idea!"
"It'll only get worse, Prime Minister."
"Look, we won't stop you from helping. But I can't take the risk. Not now."
"I'll check in again, once my brigade reaches Calgary. The Euros will be calling. Good-bye, Mr. Prime Minister." The second Becerra ended the call, he huffed and added, "What a fool. What a waste of time."
"General Kennedy's waiting to give you an update," said Hellenberg.
"Before I take that, let me ask you something, Mark. We've known each other for a long time."
"A lot of years."
"You think there's anything I could've said to that man?"
The chief of staff frowned. "As an old attorney, I'd say you made a good argument. You hit him with the facts and appealed to his emotions. But they're afraid to commit. Do you know how much money is resting on Emerson's decision?"
"Yes, like he said, the position position he's in. The Canadians ally with us, and their remaining overseas oil markets could crumble. The Chinese have already gobbled up most of their oil firms operating abroad. Sure, they know they'll never lose us as customers, so they can take the gamble, hold out, see what they can get." he's in. The Canadians ally with us, and their remaining overseas oil markets could crumble. The Chinese have already gobbled up most of their oil firms operating abroad. Sure, they know they'll never lose us as customers, so they can take the gamble, hold out, see what they can get."
"These are games for the academics to figure out. Right now there's a battle to fight."
Becerra nodded, tapped the screen, and there she was, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Laura Kennedy, looking slightly less rankled than the last time they'd spoken. "General, sorry to keep you waiting," he began.
"That's all right, Mr. President. We have intelligence coming in from multiple command posts. As always, it's information overload, but here are the highlights. The company of Special Forces up in High Level is about to engage a Russian recon patrol from Behchoko. Unfortunately, that TRAP mission you asked for is being conducted by a Force Recon team who just landed in High Level to refuel. They could get caught up in the fighting there."
"Damn, I hope not."
"Good news from the Florida Florida up in Coronation Gulf. Her skipper says they wiped out that Russian task force and have moved to the mouth of the Dolphin and Union Strait, a natural choke point. He's got us covered up there." up in Coronation Gulf. Her skipper says they wiped out that Russian task force and have moved to the mouth of the Dolphin and Union Strait, a natural choke point. He's got us covered up there."
As the general spoke, Becerra watched images of the sinking ships captured by the sub. The sight left him awestruck.
"The first sorties carrying our brigade from the Tenth Mountain Division have landed without incident in Grand Prairie, and the Marines from Pendleton have begun their deep reconnaissance up Highway 63, north of Fort McMurray. They'll be reinforced by at least one follow-on Euro battalion, I'm told. No ETA on the Euros arrival yet."
"I'll contact General Bankole to see what's holding them up."
"Mr. President, I hate to use this phrase, but it's been bandied about in the past few hours. What we're seeing so far from the Russians is an invasion plan, but one with a real failure of imagination."
"Well, you've made me wince, so now you'd better explain."
"The Russians are using all available avenues of approach, initiating the operation with basically no surprises. We expected them to seize those key towns up north to keep avenues open, which they are doing. We know they'll push down 63 and 35. We've already seen them drop in a separate battalion augmented with petroleum specialists to help gain control of the fields and refineries up near Fort McMurray. And we know they're using the avgas up in Behchoko to refuel their 130s. They sent some of those refueled planes farther south. The first flight passed Edmonton, so we believe they're either bound for Calgary or maybe they'll put down in Red Deer, right between the two cities. There's a regional airport there that they might use as a staging area, sending infantry both north and south to the cities. Initially, they'll need at least a battalion to fully secure each city until their reinforcements arrive."
"How are we doing in the air?"
"So far the space backbone layer remains clear since the destruction of the ISS. Euro lasers and the Rods from God are fully online. We've managed to disrupt the Russians' airborne network layer with Euro lasers, taking out those first surveillance and 130X craft, but that won't last for long, since their fuel cells will need recharging. The tactical and terminal layers are where it's all happening. We can take out their transports, but, as always, collateral damage is a primary concern, especially once they get near the cities."
"Yes, and the joint chiefs know very well how I feel about that."
She nodded. "You shoot a missile at one of the largest transport planes in the world and it crash-lands in downtown Edmonton, suddenly we're the terrorists, invasion or not."
"We won't let that happen."
"No, sir." She regarded her notes. "The fighters from Alaska have had only limited success up in the Northwest Territories, given the Russian fighter escorts, but with the infrastructure concerns, the joint chiefs continue to assert that this will be a ground battle with close air support. The Russians seem to agree. We've seen no evidence that they're readying strategic bombers. If they take Alberta, they'll want to take it intact. Again, no surprises. The Rules of Engagement seem remarkably clear. The only unexpected thing they did was launch this attack during winter, making ground movement all the more difficult-but that goes for both sides."
"You seem bothered by all of this."
She hesitated. "Given our dealings with the GRU in the past year, sir, it would be foolish to assume this is all they have planned."
"For all our sakes, I hope those fools in Moscow know where to stop."
"Me, too. But while it's perfectly logical for them to want control over the reserves in Alberta, you always wonder: is this just a diversion to keep eyes on Canada while they slip one under the table?"
"So we keep one eye on Canada and one on the rest of the world."
"Yes, sir. And, oh yes, one more smaller matter. Green Vox and his cronies are back at it. They've delayed the Stryker brigade heading to Calgary."
"What happened?"
"Not sure. Reports indicate they might have planted IEDs. But these weren't roadside bombs. They might have been planted on the vehicles before they even left Fort Lewis. If that's the case, it was definitely an inside job. Those crews are trained to go over their vehicles very carefully."
"If a bomb is made to resemble a component that's already there, how do you check for that?" asked Becerra.
"Exactly."
"Are they moving again?"
"Just in the last hour."
"Good."
"But here's what bothers me, sir. For the past eight years, the Green Brigade has hit targets all over the world, significant targets."
"And you're wondering why they'd attack Fort Lewis, then disrupt the convoy?"
"Two smaller bombs just went off at Fort McMurray Airport, where our Marines have landed. No one was hurt."
"So the Russians have Vox back on their payroll. Another failure of imagination, eh?"
"Maybe so. I'm sure time will tell. Well, that's all for now, Mr. President."
"Thank you. And General, when that Russian recon force hits High Level, I'd like to monitor those channels."
"Absolutely. Should be any minute now."
"Where's everyone else? Where are they?"
The captain shook his head.
Barnes and the medic were no longer moving, and the engineer was clutching his leg, shot in the femoral artery and bleeding all over the bay floor.
Just then Gerard pulled open his bloody jacket and lifted his shirt, revealing a pair of dark holes in his chest. He wouldn't make it, and neither would the engineer.
"We need help!" Vatz cried to one of the door gunners.
The guy ignored him, tending to his own shoulder wound. Gritting his teeth, Vatz pushed himself over to the Russian, wrenched up the man's visor, and grabbed him by the neck. "Are you worth it, you bastard?"
The Russian stared up with vacant eyes.
Vatz glanced back at the remains of his team, then glared at the colonel once more and screamed, "Are you worth it?" "Are you worth it?"
"They're splitting up now," said Black Bear over the radio.
Sergeant Nathan Vatz shivered. Looking down, he saw his gloved hands had formed into fists and felt the sweat pouring down his face, despite the cold wind blowing across the town hall's rooftop.
Don't do that again, he ordered himself. This isn't about revenge. Stick to the plan, the mission. This isn't about revenge. Stick to the plan, the mission.