left the compartment, heading for the command center.
Captain Alex Ben-Shoshan was waiting there. An alert had sounded when the message had come in and in his heart he guessed what it was. Yitzchak silently handed the message to him. Ben-Shoshan read it and his eyes saddened. “The situation is worse?”
“Worse by far Sir. The beast has finished its destruction of Jerusalem and has moved into the corridor. Soon, it will be approaching Tel Aviv itself and then it will be too late. We have a brief opportunity, when the Beast is in the corridor, that is all.”
The Captain nodded. At the bottom of the message was a line of characters. He took a small box and typed those characters in. Then he handed the message to his Executive Officer who had a similar box. Once again the characters were typed in and the box translated them into a different string of numbers.
“I have 693987909 Sir.” The Executive Officer typed the numbers manually into the launch console.
Ben-Shoshan nodded. His machine had given him a different number and he added that to the console input. The computer would add the two numbers and if they came to the right total, they authenticated the input and released the locks on the firing system. There was no sign that the doomsday decision had been taken. No lights, no flashing messages. The fire control system was quiet. “It is time.” Ben-Shoshan said.
He took the key from its chain around his neck and went to a box at one end of the control room. His executive officer did the same so the men were separated by the length of the room. Then, they inserted their keys in two small, unobtrusive locks. “On the count of three. One… two… three.”
The keys turned and the computer made a series of clicks. A t this point, if the calculations done by the computer had not come to the correct answer, the whole system would lock down. There was an eerie silence in the control room then the submarine shuddered gently. The first Popeye missile was on its way. The next followed ten seconds later with the third following ten seconds after that. In less than a minute, all five missiles were on their way to their targets.
Israeli General Command Headquarters, Tel Aviv, Israel
The cheering and applause in the headquarters building was stilled by five words.
“We have a missile launch.”
The Navy Duty Officer’s simple statement changed the celebration over driving off the Scarlet Beast into a tense atmosphere that was thick with fear. On the displays that dominated one wall, the tracks of missiles were clearly evident. Only one at first but others joined it and were fanning out across the sea towards the land. There was nothing indicated on the display to suggest where the missiles had been launched from but there was only one real option and everybody knew what it was. Tekuma
Five missiles, heading east in a fan. There was no doubt what they were either. Nuclear-tipped Popeye missiles. “”Nobody authorized that launch.” It was a stupid remark and the man who uttered it flushed deep red with embarrassment.
“Where are they going?” Marosy’s throat was dry. This was what everybody in the nuclear business had feared for so long.
“No way to tell yet. The missiles will use an evasive course for the first few minutes to complicate any hope of interception. Then they will go to their targets.”
“Interceptors are up. Four Akef fighters out of Tel Nov.” The Air Force Duty Officer read the data out. The fighters would be heading out in an effort to shoot the missiles down before they reached their targets.
“Only four?” Marosy couldn’t tear his eyes off the screen. The missiles were heading east in a snaking S-shaped pattern that made target prediction impossible. Blue lines appeared on the map, the F-15Cs heading out to intercept the Popeyes.
“All we have. It will be ten minutes before the rest of the aircraft are available and that will be too late.”
Second ticked by. The missile tracks stopped snaking and accelerated along straight courses to their targets. The fighters changed course slightly, spreading out to make their intercepts.
“We have targets Sir. Baghdad, Damascus, Beirut, Cairo and Tel Aviv.” The last words were spoken in stunned disbelief. “Sir, the way they’re spread, we can’t get them all. The first three, we can get, one Akef each. The last pair, its one or the other.”
“Order the fighter to take the one heading for Cairo.” The Prime Minister’s voice cut across the room. “If Israeli nuclear missiles destroy an Arab capital, the human alliance will be torn apart. Human will fight human with every weapon we have. The only winner will be Yahweh and his crew. So we sacrifice Tel Aviv, not Cairo. Anyway, our missile batteries may stop the Popeye.”
That was a faint chance and everybody knew it. The anti-missile system was designed to shoot down ballistic missiles that came in on a straight, predictable ballistic arc. An ABM system didn’t even need guidance to hit a target like that, the Indians had made intercepts by mathematical prediction without guidance. The Arrow stressed range and speed, not the agility needed to hit a maneuvering target. But the Popeye was skimming in at very high speed, a few feet above the ground. A much harder target. By ordering the one fighter within reach of the last pair of missiles, the Prime Minister had condemned Tel Aviv to death.
“Mister Prime Minister.” Muamur al Zahari spoke from the corner of the room, his eyes glistening with tears. “Please authorize me to use your radio system. I must get word out telling the world of the decision you have just made. The world needs to know of the sacrifice that is being made here today.”
The Prime Minister nodded and al Zahari sat at a communications console, dialing frequencies and transmitting messages, advising his command structure that Tel Aviv was about to die so that the Human Alliance could survive. Behind him, Marosy stared at the city outside. He was still staring at it when it was engulfed by a brilliant flash of light.
Michael’s Palace, Aukumea, Heaven
“What do you want.” Michael-Lan’s voice was uncharacteristically angry. He had enough to worry about without routine messages to distract him. The Scarlet Beast was screaming with pain, threshing around and dumping excrement all over his prized flowers. Deumah had been pulled off his back and rushed into the private operating theater in a grim effort to save her life. Both had been hideously wounded by the bomb blasts and Michael really didn’t know whether either would survive. The Scarlet Beast? Perhaps. Deumah, if she was very lucky and his medical team were working at the top of their form.
“O Lordly One, I have news from below. The Fourth Bowl of Wrath has been poured on another human city. The capital of the Israelites is no more.”
That stopped Michael in his tracks. “The Fourth Bowl of Wrath poured on Jerusalem? And only one city?”
“Only one, Greatest of Generals.”
Oh shut up with the ass-licking. Michael thought. I’m not Yahweh and my name is Michael, not some sycophantic chant. Stop wasting my time with that mindless nonsense..
“Tel Aviv has been destroyed and all who reside within. A masterly strategy, Greatest of Generals, tricking the humans into using their own weapons.” The messenger bowed and left.
A masterly strategy indeed. Use human weapons because Uriel’s death showed that even the deadliest we have is no great threat to them. Michael tried to calm Fluffy down. I wonder who thought of it.
Chapter Forty Four
Laager, 1/33 Battalion, Third Brigade, Third Armored Division, Ninth U.S. Corps. North of Dis.
“Hokay, so the brass needs something dangerous done and so the Third Herd gets the job.” Colonel Keisha Stevenson leaned against her tank and looked around at her unit commanders. She still had the same combined arms battalion she had commanded when the Curbstomp War had ended over a year ago, two companies of M1A3 Abrams tanks, two of mechanized infantry in M2A7 Bradleys and a battery of M1314A1 anti-harpy vehicles. The end of that war had marked the arrest of her meteoric rise through the ranks. The explosive expansion of the Army had slowed as it began to reach its planned size and with it had stopped the frantic promotion of the existing officer cadre. Quality was again beginning to catch up with quantity as the new officer corps slowly got to grips with its unfamiliar environment.
“Did we have to blow away that angel?” Lieutenant Jim Shane, once her tank gunner “Biker” and now one of her two tank platoon commanders, sounded almost plaintive.
