Ancients

5

The sixty-six-year-old man sat and watched CNN without really seeing the images of North Korean troops on the move. The man knew that it was file footage, so he had no need to see the small disclaimer at the bottom of the screen. If there was one thing the man knew, it was the troop strength of the North Korean army; and he could clearly see that the uniforms worn by the PRK troops were old in style by at least fifteen years, thus he knew it had to have been file footage.

The glass of milk before him on the coffee table remained untouched since the housekeeper had brought it into him. The pills that kept his pain at a minimum sat unnoticed on a small silver serving tray next to the glass. Finally, the man blinked and brought his attention back to the screen when the announcer out of Atlanta switched from the deteriorating situation in Korea to happenings a little closer to home.

As for local law enforcement authorities in the Boston area, there was no clue left as to why thirty-one employees and clients of the prestigious law firm were found murdered execution-style in the most horrendous crime in Boston history. Authorities are baffled as to who and why--

Carmichael Rothman sat bolt upright, causing the pain in his upper back to flair excruciatingly when the camera panned to the front of an old brownstone office building. The gold script on the front of the building was there for the world to read. Ignoring the reporter currently framed in the cameras lens, he just stared at the names behind her. EVANS, LAWSON AND KEELER was only partially hidden behind the female newsperson, but Rothman saw the gold-plated letters clearly.

Still not hearing the words of the reporter, he absently reached out, took the three small morphine tablets from the silver tray, and shakily placed them in his mouth. He reached for the glass of warm milk, but instead of grasping it his fingers refused to open, and he succeeded only in knocking it over.

"Sir, are you all right?" The housekeeper had entered his study unnoticed and was at his side instantly. "Let me get a rag and I'll clean this up for you."

With the bitter-tasting pills dissolving in his mouth, Rothman violently shook his head. He slapped at the air as the elderly woman started to pick up the fallen glass. Finally, he managed to slap the housekeeper's hands away. She looked up at him, but his eyes were still staring at the television screen.

"Martha, get--Martha on the phone, immediately."

The housekeeper remained kneeling next to the coffee table. "Ms. Laughlin is on the telephone right this moment--that is why I came in: I didn't know if you wanted to be disturbed."

Rothman did not say anything. He just leaned back in the red leather easy chair and closed his eyes. The pills were slowly taking their desired effect and the cancer that was killing him momentarily eased his pain and released its hold.

"The phone, please," he murmured.

The woman stood, removed the wireless phone from its cradle, and placed it in his hand. With eyes closed, he started to gather his thoughts.

"Carr, are you there?"

At first, he didn't answer as he waited for his strength to return.

"Carr, this is--"

"I'm here, my dear. What are we to do?"

"Listen, you relax. I have our contacts in Boston sending me a few things from the crime scene. One of our informants absconded with evidence before his superiors found it. I do not need you collapsing on me because we have a lot to talk about in a very short time frame."

"I knew it wasn't a coincidence--the Wave is activated--I should have known right away--you should have also--what were we thinking?"

"Whoever the Coalition used was very good. Who would have believed they could track the Keeler line after all these years. Listen, Carr, we don't know for sure that whoever did this has gained any knowledge as to where the map is hidden. We just can't be sure."

Carmichael Rothman sat up and waved his housekeeper out of the room. Alert, he watched her leave and then watched as the two cherry-paneled doors closed behind her.

"We overlooked three coincidences when Korea, Iran, and now the Russian naval base were struck with no apparent aftershocks. Now this gruesome act in Boston that wiped out the last fertile line is just too much! They have the location of the map and probably our locations as well!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone as his point became clear.

"Martha, this is no time for secrets to be kept. We need help!"

"Yes, but whom--the new American administration? They will think we are insane when we tell them. Our assets in Washington cannot even begin to approach them. From my understanding, the new president has his hands overly full and he's not listening to a lot of reason right now."

The old man grew silent.

"We both have enough security around us to fend off an army. The Juliai would be foolish to come after us. We must assume they have the information they sought."

"So we do nothing as usual? We wait for our darker brothers and sisters to take control?"

"Our influence has waned, Carr. Our time has passed."

"That has always been our failing, Martha. Let others do the dying. We were always content to allow governments to stop the Juliai. Never once did our ancestors or we place ourselves in danger, or take even a stand. The Coalition has always been ruthless far beyond our understanding, yet we spring from the same fathers and mothers. I find this hard. I am old as you are. We are the last. Can we not just this one time assist with no thought to our own safety?"

The other end of the line fell silent. Carmichael Rothman sat and listened, but even as he did so, he felt his brave words starting to crumble in his memory. He and the Ancients had always been afraid of their far more aggressive brothers and sisters who had followed Julius Caesar down a path of separation and ruthless domination. Now, he sat there in his magnificent house and felt his desire for action failing.

"Carr, in the beginning, our side was no better than theirs. We were mirror images of one another. We were just as hateful as our ancestors were and that is our crime. Just because we are the last, does not mean anything. We will be hated for our pacifist leanings of the past by the entire world. I am just not brave enough for that. I'm sorry."

Rothman heard the phone line go dead. He felt the shame of their non-action throughout history flood into his memory. He slowly placed the phone down and lowered his head.

So, the last two free-thinking Ancients would stand by and let the world come apart, only to have the Coalition pick up the pieces and put it back together again in their image.

Carmichael Rothman placed his head in his hands and sobbed, more ashamed than he had ever been. For the grandson of the man who had risked his life to thwart the Coalition over a hundred years before, this was too much to bear.

Steaming at twenty-six knots, the Roosevelt was making good headway against the high seas, which were still a reminder of the massive underground quake of the day before. The Nimitz-class carrier and her escorts had been dispatched two days prior for deployment as a rear guard for the George Washington and John F. Kennedy groups, now in the Sea of Japan. Her latest flash message had ordered her directly into the hot waterway directly between Korea and China at flank speed. She was now cruising five hundred miles off the coast of Sakhalin Island.

Her captain was a man known for thinking outside the box. He was going to take a large risk, and a lot depended on the actions of the U.S. State Department. They were seeking permission from the Russian government to enter the Strait of La Perouse, a slim breadth of water between the Russian-controlled Sakhalin and the Japanese island of Hokkaido, and thus far the State Department had been thwarted at the United Nations Security Council by both the Russians and the Chinese--the two nations struck the hardest by the recent earthquakes. If the captain of the Roosevelt did not receive confirmation soon, he would have to alter course and head for the Sea of Japan through route farther south.

The skies were dark as the great ship plowed through the rough seas. Her smaller escorts were having a far harder time with the swells than the giant carrier was, but they were still keeping pace with the rapid pace of the Teddy.

As the captain sat in the large chair inside the command bridge, a signal-man approached and gave him a contact report. He glanced at it and then looked at the sailor.

"Intermittent?"

"Yes, sir. The contact is low, possibly hidden by the rough seas."

The captain thought about bringing the ship to General Quarters but instead picked up the phone and contacted the ships CIC.

"Yes, Captain, this is Commander Houghington. Our contact could be just a glitch because I don't suspect anyone would brave the seas at that low altitude."

"Conclusions?" he asked.

"Any action at this time is not supported by what we have, Captain. The Champlain is monitoring the contact and will advise on any aspect changes."

"Very well. Inform everyone this could turn serious real quick."

"Aye, Captain."

The captain hung up the phone and bit his lower lip in thought. It was a bad habit and that knowledge had spread to his crew rather quickly. When he was like that, he was deep in thought.

"To hell with it. Officer of the Deck, bring the task force to General Quarters."

In the rough seas, the twelve ships of the large force came to life and men started running about, getting to their action stations. Word quickly spread that the group might be under surveillance at the least, or tracked by someone meaning them harm; at sea, both scenarios got the men's attention.

The heavy cruiser had joined the task force as a last-minute substitution and had arrived from her home port of San Diego just in time to meet up with the Roosevelt before they came in striking distance of Sakhalin.

In the combat direction center of the Aegis missile cruiser, the ratings were quietly watching their monitors. The deck officer was watching closely both the BQQ sonar and air-search radars. His eyes went from the subsurface search to the air search but were drawn more frequently to the air aspect.

"There it is again, sir," the air-search tech called out.

As the lieutenant commander leaned closer to the screen, the large blip disappeared.

"Dammit! If that's an aircraft, he's braver than me. Those seas are at sixteen feet."

"Last contact showed two hundred and thirty klicks and closing. sir, this could be just ground swell and clutter."

"Well, the Teddy isn't taking any chances. They just launched her Alert One fighters to join the CAP."

As the officer moved to the subsurface-search screen, the green blip appeared and vanished once more.

The flight of six S-37 fighters of the North Korean air force skimmed the sea at wave-top level. If it had not been for the large amount of sea spray streaming from their fuselages, the newest line of stealth-technology fighters would have struck undetected. Still, that intermittent signal was enough to confuse the Americans.

Each of the six new fighters was armed with a single weapon: the SSN-22 cruise missile. Western intelligence had recently dubbed the new Russian-designed weapon "the deadliest missile in the world." Code-named the Sunburn, it was capable of supersonic speeds and packed a punch that could singlehandedly sink an American Nimitz-class carrier. At this moment there were six Sunburns targeting the Roosevelt.

"We have multiple incoming targets, one hundred and eighty klicks and closing. Speed is estimated at Mach 1.2!"

The Roosevelt and Lake Champlain radars were picking up only four of the inbound targets because, after launch, one of the costly cruise missiles simply fell off its launch rail and hung from one of its explosive bolts. As it caught the air, it dragged the plane down and it splashed into the sea, cartwheeling the expensive fighter into the angry ocean.

Another of the Sunburns ignited, but then the warhead inexplicably detonated. Unknown to the manufacturer, a watertight seal that had been improperly installed at the Russian factory had corrupted the arming timer with seawater on the flight in. The resulting explosion took out not only the launching S-37 but its wingman. Both fighters disintegrated in an expanding wave of destruction that lit up the darkened sky.

The giant ship maneuvered to starboard at flank speed as the approaching missiles gained on it. Three of the Sunburns targeted the great carrier and one, the Lake Champlain.

As RAM (rolling action) missiles filled the gray sky around the task force from every warship in the group, the Lake Champlain's old Phalanx system started to track the incoming threat. The R2-D2 platform, named after the Star Wars character, rotated with the high whine of its turbine, and the six-barreled Gatling gun started turning in anticipation of placing its lethal rounds into the air.

The Roosevelt's captain saw what was going to happen.

"Helm, hard to port!" he ordered loudly.

The carrier started to turn, but it was too late. The first 770-pound war-head slammed into the vessel below the high-water mark amidships, killing four hundred sailors in the initial detonation. Fire quickly spread throughout the cavernous hangar deck. The giant warship shuddered and was actually lifted free of the sea as her keel bent and then straightened in a springlike action that came very near to breaking her back. As she settled back into the water, her crew waited for the second strike, which would surely finish her.

The Lake Champlain saved her. By splitting the two old Phalanx turrets between the second and third missiles, the Champlain's captain was hoping beyond hope to save the Roosevelt from the deathblow headed her way.

Another missile, aimed directly at the Champlain, was being tracked by their old but reliable Raytheon RIM-161 standard missiles. She started pumping the SAMs into the air as fast as her automatic loader could deploy them. Simultaneously, chaff and flares launched from their tubes and started to explode in an attempt to confuse the incoming Sunburn.

The first missile was just crossing the point of no return for the forward Phalanx. The depleted uranium rounds played out like water from a garden hose as it tracked. The cruise missile popped up in the last seconds of flight due to its programmed orders to target the Teddy's flight deck. At the last possible moment, five of the more than eight thousand uranium rounds in the air struck the large missile dead center and exploded it seventy feet from the carrier's large island structure. Fire and shrapnel from the momentum of the Sunburn spread destruction to the bridge area of the carrier just as she righted herself from the first strike.

The second missile was close behind, and just as the Roosevelt settled and her bronze propellers bit the sea, fighting for speed, the missile struck her at the stern. There was no detonation. The Roosevelt was hit with a dud missile. Thanks to the Champlain, thousands of men were saved.

The Lake Champlain wasn't so lucky. She attempted to turn to port just as the fourth Korean missile struck. The resulting explosion ripped through her midsection and blew out the other side. The worst effect was the downward trajectory of the expanding wave of destruction as it found a hole in the ship's design, the tunnel that fed missiles to the automated loader. The American missiles exploded in the main loading area of the cruiser and the rest of the energy traveled down into the bowels of the proud warship. The kinetic energy slammed into her lowest deck, disintegrating reinforced steel plates until it finally found the keel. The thick spine of steel simply snapped in half like a frail twig. The onrush of water weighted the forward half of the Lake Champlain and pulled it under, leaving the stern to catch up.

Two miles away, the USS Theodore Roosevelt was dead in the water with her fires belowdecks out of control. Other ships started making their way in to help as the shock of the Korean attack was quickly replaced by anger at what amounted to a sneak attack on the force.

The world situation was slowly worsening, per the plan. Meanwhile, across the ocean and half a world away, the Coalition was preparing to assault another, but very much older, ship still on the U.S. Navy active rolls: the USS Arizona.