“It means they’re wiping out our eyes and ears and communications capabilities,” Alan muttered. “John, I’ve got to get this to Roger. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Alan popped a jumpdrive out of one of the laptops and hurried out.
“Well, Mr. President, the cloud surrounding the planet seems to be gone,” Ronny Guerrero explained to the President and the NSA.
“That’s good, right?” the NSA asked.
“Not really, ma’am. The latest data that we’ve been able to get back from radar at various locations around the globe has allowed us to make this composite of the data.” Ronny flipped the image up on his laptop.
“Here you can see a large cylindrical swarm of small contacts. Each seems to be less than thirty centimeters across, but there are estimated to be more than three billion of them in this tube that extends out from Earth nearly a thousand kilometers and is about three hundred meters in diameter. Analysis of the multi-static radar data suggests that there is only about one meter separation in any direction between these things within the tube. The cloud that was around the planet seems to have directed itself into the tube. Although there are still some few thousand of the contacts around the globe, most of them have converged into this tubule. And it’s coming down. Now.”
“Yes, Ronny, I can see that, but where is this thing centered?” the President asked.
“Well, sir, as best we can tell, it looks like somewhere just east of Paris, France.”
“Captain Holmes, sir. E-3 is enroute to target zone.” Captain Eddie Holmes of the NATO E-3A AWACS contingent from Geilenkirchen, Germany checked the charts velcroed to his left thigh. “E.T.A. of twenty-three minutes.”
“Little green men, cap’n?” Lieutenant Tod Alvers said. “Reckon we’ll see any?”
“You heard the briefing, Lieutenant. They’re machines. That scares me more than little green men. Living things implies that they might be reasoned with or even be sympathetic, but machines on the other hand…” The captain marked a checkpoint on his map and keyed the crew frequency. “Davis, are we getting returns from this thing yet?”
“Roger that, Cap’n. I’ve got the largest passive return I’ve ever seen. We haven’t got the transmitter active and the ambient return looks like God’s chaff cloud out there about three hundred miles east,” Tech Specialist Davis replied.
“Well, keep us posted up here and clear of those things, you hear me? I want all data live on JTIDS starting now. And as soon as we’re in range go active with the radar. The Pentagon wants as much information as we can get.”
“Roger, Cap’n. JTIDS link is operational. We’re in range now, sir. Going active with JSTARS now.” Davis typed in the proper commands on his keyboard to activate the radar systems on board the AWACS aircraft. His screen showed a cloud of metal that looked more like the return from a thunderstorm than from a squadron of flying machines. “Sir, we have zero resolution at this range. Just a large cloud, still trying to get a hard measurement. There must be billions of them, sir.”
“What are they doing, Davis?”
“They’re—” Davis stopped abruptly. “The cloud is changing shape…”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Alvers said, quietly but urgently, pointing toward the cockpit window.
“Holy shit! Bank! Bank! Bank!”
A swarm of meter-long boomerang shaped metallic objects consumed the aircraft and began ripping it apart. The aircraft metal on the empennage of the aircraft was rapidly stripped away. The cockpit and cabin pressurization gave way.
Banking and diving the aircraft seemed to have no effect on the swarm’s ability to match velocity and attack. Captain Holmes and Lieutenant Alvers banked and juked until the plane was pulled apart. Eddie looked out at the right wing and shook his head as it buckled; it was covered with meter-long boomerangs.
“This is Bob Campbell in Paris,” the CNN reporter said. “The reports of the alien landing are spotty at this time but it appears that they’re approaching Paris. The French military has issued a statement saying that they’re in position to defend the city and citizens should remain calm and in their homes. Thus far we have no reports of how the fighting is going and all communications from the area are cut off.”
“Probably because they lost,” Roger said, sipping a beer as he watched the streaming video. With all the satellites down, the report from Paris was being fed through Internet pipe over trans-Atlantic cable links and it was flickery and scratchy, with the reporter’s words occasionally coming in either before or after the video. “Our intel feed says that the French military’s already lost contact with them. Lost it right after they said they were engaged. Nothing since then.”
