Ancients

more time.

'The SAMs will strike first and then our Migs will take care of any American that makes it out alive,' he said, raising his field glasses to the camo netting three hundred yards away. 'All air-defense units lock on to inbound targets and fire at will.'

Around the center of the island, twenty-five SAM batteries fired, as each of their missiles locked on to an incoming warplane.

A hundred miles south, following the exhaust trails of the SAMs as they streaked through the sky to meet the foolish American pilots who so brazenly thought they could attack Crete without a fight, the lead flight of twenty Coalition MIG 31s based out of Libya saw the first of the antiair-craft missiles take out the first five targets. The lead pilot smiled under his mask. At this rate they would not have much to clean up.

As the flight leader watched the fighters break through the SAM screen, he became curious as to why they were not taking evasive maneuvers to avoid further contact--a decision that was very brave of them, but also very foolish.

'Lead, I have a visual on the targets. They are not American fighter aircraft--they are cruise missiles!'

The leader heard the call. He had been duped into believing that the cruise missiles were a fighter flight. As he thought this, he heard his missile-threat warning system go off with a piercing screech. He looked at his radar but it was clear. Where is this threat coming from? he asked himself.

At a hundred miles away from Crete, the flight of ten F-22A Raptors popped up from the ground clutter of the sea and fired off twenty AMRAMM missiles, then went low again and continued to streak toward Crete.

Before the lead pilot of the flight of MIGs knew exactly who and what was attacking them, AMRAMM missiles started to slam into the engines, wings, and fuselages of his squadron. The Americans had somehow enticed his men to attack what they thought was a poorly disguised flight of fighters, having their cruise missiles emit a high frequency 'ghosting' as if they were manned aircraft, radar signature and all.

The pilot's next thought never made it to the formation of a question in his mind as the lock-on tone became even more insistent just as he finally saw the telltale radar-guided AMRAMM. The flight leader's MIG came apart exactly one minute after the attack had begun; after ten years of training and payment to an air force consisting of very well-paid mercenaries, the Coalition fighter squadron had ceased to exist.

As the MIG wreckage struck the sea below, a new and even more amazing sight graced the Mediterranean as twelve water slugs breached the surface one right after the other as the Tomahawk cruise missiles of the USS Cheyenne flew to a hundred feet before leveling off. The stubby wings, air intake, and rear stabilizers popped free as the missiles started their runs for the SAM sites that had been tracked by the Cheyenne when they launched against the decoy cruise missiles, their target being the Coalition air defenses.

The defensive SAM sites started tracking new targets. These were not giving off false radar bounces and they were anything but incoming aircraft. The commander of the SAMs knew that they were under missile attack. However, before he could give the order to target the Tomahawks coming from the Cheyenne, his radar commander called in ten new targets to the east of Crete and coming on at Mach 1.9--more than twice the speed of sound. The Coalition general knew that the Americans had outsmarted him. To split his remaining SAMs among the two incoming sets of targets was to guarantee that half of the bogeys would get through.

'Sir, the incoming targets to the east are intermittent, not a strong bounce-back. I suspect another trick,' his radar officer reported.

Yes, the Americans made the mistake of showing their hand earlier, he thought. Obviously, the targets that had swung around to the east for the attack were nothing more than the same type of missile that radiated like a fighter signature. They hoped to fool them into firing on them again.

'Once too many times to the well,' the commander said. 'Target only the western bogeys, ignore the eastern threat.'

As he watched, SAM after SAM lifted off its launch rails and streaked into the sky headed west. Almost immediately, the general started receiving reports that the incoming targets were being struck without evasive maneuvering. The general raised his field glasses and looked to the lightening western sky. He saw a sky burst as something went down in flames.

'How many targets have been destroyed?'

'Six--there are six still incoming!'

The general closed his eyes and lowered his glasses for a moment. He then brought them back up and looked into the eastern sky and saw, in nightmarelike slowness, that the aircraft he thought had been decoy missiles were actually fighters. The first of the ten F-22A Raptors, acting as a Wild Weasel antiradar attack plane, launched its missiles. He lowered his glasses again before the nine other, started launching their long-range ordnance. Right at that moment, the remaining six cruise missiles he had mistaken for manned aircraft screamed overhead and then air-burst over the SAM batteries. Then the first antiradiation Snake Eye struck the radar and command bunker.

The population of Crete, around 650,000 people, awoke to the tremendous explosions at the center of their island. The cruise-missile airbursts were an added bonus for the American commander. He actually did not think any of them would get through to their targets. The downward pressure of the warhead explosions drove the batteries into a crumpled heap along with the crews who operated them.

The ten F-22A Raptors tore over the island and fired on anything that moved. Either the Coalition troops were running around dazed or they made their way to the giant opening of the excavation.

The sound of helicopters came with the first rays of the sun. V-22 Ospreys and U.S. Marine hovercraft were making a run unopposed to the beaches of Crete.

The Second Battalion, First Marine Expeditionary Force (recon) was starting the land-assault portion of Operation Morning Thunder.

THE UNITED NATIONS NEW YORK CITY

The special conference room had been set up at a moment's notice. The American ambassador had finally talked the delegations from Russia and China into attending, along with any military attaches they chose to bring.

As the live feed from one of the KH-11 satellites continued to show real-time visuals, the room remained silent as a tomb. The destruction in the opening moments of the attack stunned the gathered attaches and diplomats.

Five minutes later, Space Command reported that the Blackbird was drifting out of visual range of the battle and could not maintain the live feed.

'What you have just witnessed was an attack by Coalition forces on military units of the United States. A force you did not believe existed, a group that has made the United States look guilty at every turn in this very murderous game they are playing. Moreover, what is worse is the fact that we have intelligence that states they are going to strike your homelands within the hour. Earthquakes designed to destroy your way of life and take away any offensive military capabilities you have. They are going to make China and Russia so weak they will no longer be a threat to their long-range plans of dominating your societies.'

The Russian ambassador silently stood and then looked back at the large screen on which he had just watched many people die. Then he nodded at Compton and left the room with his military attache close behind.

The Chinese delegation sat for a moment. The ten men did not exchange words; they only looked at Niles, gauging his words and watching for the moment when a lie would be detected in the American's face. Slowly, the ambassador rose to his feet, followed by his entourage.

'If you will excuse us, we have much to absorb and much more to discuss with Beijing. Thank you for our inclusion in this briefing.'

Compton watched them leave and then harshly pushed a chair out of his way as he grabbed his coat. Their honesty seemed that it would only delay the inevitable.

The president would have to defend those boys in Korea, and Niles knew that this would mean the world would then go to war.

An hour later, Compton was sitting with the president and the National Security Council in the subbasement of the White House.

Niles thought it ironic that the two parties most involved in the conflict were both buried below ground and