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Star Trek : Angel - Book IV - Saving History II

Commentary on Chapter 4

You know, the second you referenced Tunguska, I just knew Seminar was in for a Really Bad Day™. :wtf:

Yeah, wow, this is shaping up to be a potentially Extinction Level Event. And with Stearman at the help, the good ship United States is up the proverbial excrement creek without a paddle. Five years is not a lot of time, even with the whole planet trouble-shooting the problem.

And poor, Mitch. One moment the guy’s on top of the world training for his new dream job, and the next the carpet has been pulled out from under him. Ugh.

You’ve created a caste of riveting characters here, ones which draw the reader into their lives, loves, hopes and dreams. Outstanding work.
 
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Chapter 5

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
5

RAMAT DAVID ISRAELI AIR FORCE BASE
NORTHERN ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0116 IST (2316 UTC)

“You know we’ve practiced, we’ve briefed and I still can’t believe this is happening,” Shapira said.

“Well start believing Gil,” said a voice from the darkness. “It’s happening and we have to get this right first time.”

Shapira stopped and turned to his friend and mentor, Colonel Yitzhak Friedman

“Zach, you know I’m ready for this. But we spend all this time and training for missions we pray we’ll never have to fly.” He sighed deeply. “It just kind of takes the wind out of your sails when it comes to the crunch.”

Satellite confirmation had arrived late the previous evening of the two confirmed launch sites in Iran. The third had still not been identified which worried Shapira deeply. At least with the element of surprise, he knew they had a fighting chance of destroying the two on the ground before they could launch.

“Gil, get something to eat then get into mission planning. Focus on what you do best rather than worrying.”

Shapira grinned though he didn’t think Friedman could see it.

“How do you know that worrying isn’t what I do best?”

Friedman slapped his arm. “Get out of here you idiot before I have the flight surgeon declare you unfit.”

Shapira laughed and began walking towards the mess when he heard Friedman call to him from the darkness.

“B'hatzlacha.”

“You too,” he replied knowing that by the time the sun rose, the world would know if their mission had been a success or not.


TEL NOF ISRAELI AIR FORCE BASE
REKHOVOT
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0153 IST (2353 UTC)

Green had been totally unable to sleep, which was more due to his increasingly resurgent inner demons than anything else. Freeze frame images of the events that had brought him to this point in his life would swell in his tired mind like ocean surf carrying flotsam before being subsumed by the implant and then the process would begin to cycle once more. Sleep became increasingly distant with each repeated cycle.

He’d decided that tomorrow he would visit the base medical section and request a supply of sleeping tablets but for now he was reduced to stepping out into the cool night air to calm his churning mind.

For a moment he couldn’t place what was wrong before it dawned on him that most of the base lighting was either out or dimmed below its normal levels. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom and his ears to the subtle sounds of the night he began to discern movement on the airfield close by.

A small convoy of trailers was being towed inside a darkened hangar and there was the occasional muted bark of a guard dog in the distance. Green knew that such night time activity was rare and decided that it was information he should pass on immediately.

He withdrew his G-Phone from his shirt pocket, its screen glowing brighter than usual in the subdued lighting, and was about to call the first number in its list when a hand closed on his shoulder.

“Sir?”

Green started at the sudden contact, dropping his phone in the short grass.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to return to your quarters.”

He turned to see one of the Israeli security officers in full combat gear behind him, the disruptive lines of camo cream giving his face an other-worldly appearance. The dull gleam of a 5.56 mm T.A.R. 21 assault rifle was visible from its sling by the guard’s side.

“Oh, right. Is something wrong?”

Another figure appeared out of the darkness and Green wondered just how many were in the patrol and still concealed by the night. The second guard retrieved his G-Phone and turned it off.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to use this tonight Sir, we’re conducting a security exercise. Nothing to worry about.”

Green sighed inwardly when the guard handed the phone to him.

“During the exercises outgoing calls are intercepted so we recommend that it’s easier just to leave them switched off.”

As the guards escorted him back to the visiting officer’s quarters, Green nodded and smiled. “My apologies, we hadn’t been briefed on that.”

“Not a problem Sir. Sergeant Berkovic here will be right outside if you should need anything.”

“Thank you I…” The door to the quarters closed silently in his face and he knew beyond doubt that this was much more than an exercise. He also knew that the courtesy guard outside the door wasn’t for his protection or guidance. Like Eddington who shared the same block of quarters, he was now effectively a prisoner.


FLANAGAN’S BAR & RESTAURANT
WASHINGTON DC, USA
EARTH
22nd January 2026 – 2127 EST (23rd January 2026 – 0227 UTC)

Baxter’s first impression when he and Collins had entered Flanagan’s was of a successful and homely bar. The food smelled great, the patronage wasn’t overly rowdy and all in all it was a bar he might well revisit socially. For now though, the visit was pure business.

They extracted their IDs and discretely showed them to the waitress that greeted them.

“Could we speak to Mister Demis Papadakis please?”

Appearing slightly nervous that the FBI would wish to speak to her boss, she showed them to a quiet booth and offered them a drink on the house while they waited. They both declined the offer but thanked the young woman who disappeared into the rear of the bar.

“Nice place,” noted Collins as she surveyed the room. “Not surprising that Captain Jarvis made it a regular port of call.”

The team who had spoken to the Intercontinental Airlines staff at the airport had uncovered the fact that Jarvis regularly visited Flanagan’s on his layovers and Baxter had decided it was certainly worth speaking to the owner. They also had leads to follow up on the first officer and two stewardesses while other teams were assessing the passenger manifest.

It appeared that Jarvis had earned the respect and comradeship of almost all of the Washington staff of Intercontinental, and Baxter was fairly sure that wasn’t just the company closing ranks to protect one of its own. He was now almost certain that this would prove to be a dead end in the investigation, but a negative was as good as a positive right now.

“Agents, how can I help you?”

The big shaven headed man who approached the table was wearing chef’s whites and busily wiping his hands on a clean cloth before holding out a large hand in welcome.

“Mister Papadakis, this is Agent Collins, I’m Agent Baxter.”

Baxter felt his hand swallowed whole by Papadakis’ and watched with some amusement as the big man gingerly took Collins hand and kissed it in a very old fashioned way.

“We’re here to speak to you about this man, do you recall seeing him?”

Papadakis took the proffered photograph and smiled. “Mike Jarvis, nice man. Likes his seafood does Mike.” He frowned, returning the photo. “Can’t imagine he’d be in trouble with you guys though.”

“Well that’s what we’re hoping to find out actually. Do you recall the last time you saw him?”

The big Greek thought for a moment then shook his head. “I spend a lot of my time out back cooking,” he said indicating his chef garb. “Hey Althea!” He waved over a pretty young black waitress. “Has your boyfriend pilot been in lately?”

“Demis!” she exclaimed, blushing, “I just happen to think he’s a nice guy that’s all!”

Papadakis laughed heartily. “Just kidding Althea, just kidding.” He gave Baxter a huge wink. “Althea here’s got a soft spot for Mike see.”

“We just need to know if he’s been in lately that’s all.”

Staring daggers at Papadakis, she considered the question. “Yes, he was in Monday night actually. Said he was flying out to London and he’d bring something nice back.” Her expression changed to one of concern as she realised the direction the questioning was heading. “Is he ok?”

Collins stepped in quickly. “Right now we’re not sure Althea but thank you for your help.”

As the waitress took her cue to leave the table, Baxter turned to Papadakis once more. “Mr Papadakis, do you run security cameras in here?”

“Too damned right,” he nodded vigorously. “The place was robbed last August and they’ve been in since then. Cover the whole establishment.” He pointed to three cameras placed at strategic points around the bar, and Baxter nodded.

“Could we ask to borrow the recordings for Monday evening please? I doubt it will give us much but we’ve been surprised before.”

“Sure if it helps Mike out. I’ll get the drives for you.”

As the big bar owner left for his office, Collins opened a page on the mini-slate she took from her purse.

“Ok, we’ve got the statements from the airport staff, security recordings from the hotel he stayed at, and now the recordings from here. Am I missing anything?”

“Let’s see if the recordings show anything first. We can follow up on cab drivers or whatever if anything seems off.”

She paged further down and nodded to herself.

“Hannant says that Ms Anderson is out of surgery and doing well and they’ve set up the decoy room with obtrusive security.”

They couldn’t be sure if the truck driver was still a target and the decoy room had been set up to draw initial attention which would give them time to secure Anderson in the event of an attempt on her life.

Within moments, Papadakis had returned with the security recordings and as the agents thanked him and stood to leave, he lowered his voice.

“Listen, I meant what I said. Mike Jarvis is a genuine guy. In my line of business you get an eye for that kind of thing. If he’s got involved in something that’s brought the Bureau in, then something’s seriously out of whack.”

“Thanks for that Mr Papadakis. We may need to speak with you and your staff again, but either way we’ll get these drives back to you as soon as we can.”

“No problem,” he smiled, back to his ebullient self. “Next time you’re in, free choice off the menu ok?”

“I’ll keep you to that” grinned Baxter.
 
Chapter 5 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
5 (cont)


MAHMOODIEH RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT
NORTH TEHERAN
IRAN
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0635 IRST (0305 UTC)

“This is all moving too fast,” said Shaheen.

“It would appear the Supreme Leader is giving us no room for manoeuvre though,” replied Duval. “If we don’t proceed, we lose the window of opportunity.”

“And if we do proceed, it may be too precipitous. I don’t like this at all.”

They’d been fortunate with the death of the Russian Premier though it had been foreseen. The world’s media were now making a huge issue of the crash of Air Force One and though Everett had not been killed outright, she was incapacitated to the degree that Stearman was now in charge pro tem.

He considered the world map on his screen as a master chess player studies a board where he is forced to make a move he doesn’t particularly like to stand any chance of winning the game. At last, he nodded.

“With Russia and America now looking inwards to their own problems, it is time to provide the same problem for China and Israel. Are our assets in place?”

Duval touched the screen lightly and it zoomed in to encompass Israel.

“Shapira is not a problem and the team is ready.” She scrolled the screen to China. “China is proving more problematical. It would seem that Lee is a very cautious woman. The security around her is at least the equal of yours Shaheen. She may not be a viable target.”

This enigmatic new Chinese leader was a concern to Shaheen. She had appeared from nowhere to take the reins from that idiot Huo and proven more than capable despite her youth. Chaos had reigned only briefly in China and yet she had moved the country beyond it and even overseen the formation of the ECoN.

There was also something about the woman that Shaheen could not pinpoint, yet troubled him on a subconscious level. She seemed…almost familiar.

“Proceed with both operations. We will simply have to hope…”

Shaheen never finished the sentence. A flashing “MESSAGE OVERRIDE” symbol appeared overlaying the world map.

“Speak.”

Shaheen knew that if this protocol had been activated, something was seriously wrong.

“Shaheen, we have just received data from subject India01. Israel is launching an airstrike against Iran at this time.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously and the muscles in his jaw clenched in anger.

“What has provoked this?”

“He has received orders directly from the Supreme Leader to proceed at once to border dispersal points. There he is to prepare his forces for a possible nuclear counter-strike from Israel.”

“Counter strike?” No sooner had the words left Shaheen’s lips than he realised exactly what was about to happen. Ayatollah Hoseyn Ali Jannati had decided that he was no longer going to wait for Shaheen’s plans to reach their natural conclusion. He was about to use the three nuclear warheads on Israel and there wasn’t a damn thing Shaheen could do about it.

“Order all operatives to Condition Tango. Disperse and follow the Tango Protocol. All subjects are to fall back on their Tango instructions, is that clear?”

“As you order Shaheen.”

The screen went blank and Shaheen turned to Duval.

“It would appear our time here is over Eloise. Recover all the necessary documents and then destroy the house. We’ll move to the backup as soon as possible but you must make sure that the Tango Protocol is initiated at all test centres worldwide immediately.”

“I will attend to it at once Shaheen.”

He stood, tension causing the pain in his body to resurface though he hid it from Duval.

“I will join you at the Tango backup as soon as possible, but there is something I must attend to first.”

Without waiting for Duval’s reply, he took his cloak from the stand near his door and left.


YANGLIUQING
XIQING DISTRICT
TIANJIN
CHINA
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1120 China Standard Time (0320 UTC)

The events unfolding around the world had not been totally unexpected by Chimera yet he was saddened that they had not been avoided. While Sergey Altukhov’s death may well have been from natural causes, he very much doubted that the downing of Air Force One was an accident. If somebody was looking to benefit from world disorder, then surely Juan was on their list of high profile targets.

Security was now at the highest level it had ever been around Juan, but although Chimera was almost certain it would be enough he couldn’t be completely certain and that disturbed him greatly. His plan to bring China back into the circle of world leaders had been one of subtlety and finesse rather than the bloodbath that the likes of Huo would wish upon the planet.

The truth was that Chimera had watched Khan and his followers set the world on the edge of an apocalyptic abyss from which it had barely stepped back in time. He had believed in his heart that he could convince Khan to proceed slowly and in concert with the world’s governments but it was not to be.

When he had been separated from Khan and his brother in the helicopter accident all those years ago, he had been nursed back to health by a nomadic tribe who neither cared who he was or why he had come to be there. They did what they did because it was their way, nothing more. Naturally, they couldn’t heal the worst of his injuries with their limited medicines; that would come much later. What they did do was instil in him the belief that he had survived for a reason. They told him that only he could define that reason by living his life.

Perhaps the two greatest and most conflicting feelings he had suffered from then were those of desertion and liberation. Desertion by those he had trusted, and liberation from their machinations that threatened the destruction of all that they hoped to rule. That had been his turning point, and China had been his greatest hope.

He sat here now in the quiet of his room and looked back on all that had been achieved in the past two decades. There had been his clandestine efforts to prevent human rights abuses, the surreptitious nudges that brought China into the community of space explorers, and his final goal; to begin the process of healing this fractured world. Until now, he had seen that objective on the horizon.

“Father?”

“Zhen,” he said gently. “You caught me daydreaming again.”

The look of concern on his daughter’s beautiful face caught his attention.

“What is it?”

“We have just received news from our assets in Israel. They have begun an attack on Iran.”

“What has prompted such stupidity?”

As she shook her head, tears fell from her eyes. “The team leader did not know, but three teams have witnessed a mass launch of aircraft. He does not know if they carry nuclear weapons.”

The news crowded out all other thoughts from his mind. Had the events of mere weeks ago not been enough to scare any sane man into renouncing this kind of suicidal stupidity?

“Come Zhen, we must move to a more secure location.”

“More secure?” Her eyes went wide and her hand flew to her mouth. “You do not believe this will escalate?”

He placed a hand on her cheek. “I do not know, but you are the most precious thing in my life and I will take no risks.”

The labyrinth of hardened tunnels that ran below the streets of Yangliuqing were known to only the closest and most trusted of Chimera’s team and they led to a place that even Chimera had only ever seen once before.


SPEAR FLIGHT
APPROACHING IRANIAN AIR SPACE
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0657 IRST (0327 UTC)

Shapira followed the checklist scrolling past on the F-35’s left MFD.

Weapons live, navigation and anti-collision lights out, transponder encrypted.

He knew that in the radio silence they had flown under across Saudi Arabia and Northern Iraq his fellow pilots had been holding formation visually in the darkness using the electroluminescent strips that glowed on the fuselage and tail of each fighter. The darkness had the potential of course to be both their ally and their enemy.

Spear flight were the F-35 fighters out of Ramat David. There were 24 aircraft in total consisting of 12 elements, or pairs, of aircraft and they would provide the airborne protection for Sword and Arrow flights.

Sword Flight and Arrow Flight were a mass combination of Boeing F-15I Ra’am attack fighters out of Hatzerim Air Base and Lockheed Martin F-16I Sufa attack aircraft from Ramon Air Base, all heavily laden with smart “bunker busters” capable of penetrating two-meter-thick cement walls. Guided by new GPS units, they were both accurate and deadly.

Hammer flight, which would receive no airborne shield, was the flight of Eitan drones flying ahead of them at high level towards Iran.

As the aircraft crossed the mountains of Western Iran, they split into two strike packages. The first began their low level dash for Target Alpha close to Sanandaj while the second turned slightly north for Target Bravo, the missile site near Saqqez. Overhead like guardian angels, the F-35’s kept watch over them.

Within minutes of the flights splitting and committing to their targets, Shapira could see from his perch on high the first flashes of explosions in the desert below. These were soon joined by the streaking arcs of anti-aircraft missiles and tracer rounds from the mobile anti-aircraft platforms that had been brought in to protect the launch sites. The very same equipment, in fact, that had helped the Israeli satellite to pinpoint the missiles in the first place, but it seemed the Iranians had been taken totally by surprise.

His attention was drawn away from the ground by a warbling tone in his headset. With the attack now committed, radio silence was abandoned.

Spear elements, heads up. Go tactical.”

The tone had come from the F-35's passive ECM suite to warn him that there were airborne search radars now active and while still distant, it was little comfort. Beyond visual range air to air combat was now the norm and with the advanced weapons available, they had to be alert for attacks.

They divided into their lead/wingman pairs and were now scattered across the sky of Northern Iran selecting incoming targets of their own as below, in the weak shadows of a dying winter night, Sword and Arrow flight continued to wreak havoc over the launch sites.


TEL NOF ISRAELI AIR FORCE BASE
REKHOVOT
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0533 IST (0333 UTC)

At Tel Nof Air Force Base in Israel, Captain Mira Sharon primed the weapons aboard her pair of Eitan drones. She was finding the operation somewhat eerie despite having planned and practiced such missions for her whole eight months with the squadron.

In the operations centre, four other pilots were performing the same routine with their own Eitans. The unmanned aerial vehicles were now some 1500 kilometres away yet fully under the control of the five pilots sitting in the air conditioned bunker.

It was almost too much like a computer game for Sharon. There was no connection to the death and destruction that she could unleash to those below with the single flick of a switch. No sense that she herself would be in mortal danger even if the high flying aircraft came under attack because she wouldn’t be.

Along with her fellow pilots, she was awaiting the commit order which would allow her to let her pair of UAVs perform autonomous attacks on their selected targets. Her pair was programmed for the Iranian Command Bunker beneath the Abbas Abad district in the north of the capital, and the new command headquarters of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps in New Teheran respectively.

So important were these two targets that Sharon was galvanised and the commit warning panel barely had time to flash before she thumbed the connect button. She would never know that her one simple action would have far reaching consequences.
 
cHAPTER 6

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
6



NEW TEHERAN
IRAN
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0704 IRST (0334 UTC)


Shaheen had sped in the armoured limousine to the New Teheran government offices where lights burnt brightly in the ostentatious and opulent building. Dashing inside he noted with disgust that despite the imminent Israeli attack, work continued on the Pillar of Light with harried workers running around the tarpaulin covered scaffolding like termites at work.

Ignoring their futile stupidity, Shaheen dashed to the third floor and was stopped by security guards wearing insignia he did not recognise.

“I must speak with the Supreme Leader immediately,” he demanded.

Expecting to be rebuffed by the guards, he was surprised as the lead soldier said simply, “He is expecting you.”

Shaheen was subjected to a thorough security scan although he carried no weapons. It would seem that the Ayatollah’s paranoia now extended to Shaheen. With good reason he thought grimly.

When he was eventually shown into the office of the Supreme Leader, he saw the man standing on the balcony overlooking the wide square below, still as a statue and silhouetted by the first hints of a new dawn. He knew that within moments Azaan, the Muslim call to prayer, would begin to sound from the minarets of the surrounding mosques.

“I actually believed you would have been here earlier Shaheen, but no matter. You are here now, in time to witness the end of the Zionist threat to our country.”

“Supreme Leader,” Shaheen began, “I implore you to stop this now before it is too late. The Israelis are already en route to destroy the missile sites, you must know this.”

Jannati turned towards Shaheen but did not leave the balcony. “Ah so you are aware of the missiles Shaheen? I wonder how you came about such information?”

Ignoring the question, he tried again. “If just one of those warheads strikes Israel, they will retaliate ten fold. Iran will cease to be and you, if you survive, will rule over a wasteland. What is the point of this?”

“I, Shaheen, am the instrument of Allah’s wrath because whatever you may think of your petty scheme, it is I that am truly the Prophet’s Voice!”

He heard the tone of madness in Jannati’s voice and saw the gleam of irrationality in his eyes. In the distance, he heard air raid sirens begin to wail drowning out the mu'adhin’s voices.

“This square will be known forever as the site of Iran’s first strike for Islam. It is perhaps the one place they would never have thought to look for a missile.”

Shaheen wondered just what the madman was ranting about. They were in the centre of a new city, not the wastes of Iran’s deserts… And then he understood, because outside came the increasing din of a powerful rocket motor. A spreading glow filled the brightening sky burning Jannati’s silhouetted image into Shaheen’s vision before a tremendous explosion blew him from his feet.

**********

From 40,000 feet above New Teheran, the second Eitan of Sharon’s pair had located the exact GPS co-ordinates of the headquarters of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, confirmed that its onboard system was synched and then transferred the information to the navigational element of the two ton bomb in its weapons pod. From the transmission of the commit code to the release of the weapon took a mere 3 seconds.

As it fell towards New Teheran, small vanes like miniature wings minutely adjusted the weapons course ensuring that, as it reached terminal velocity, its warhead would impact directly at the centre of the GPS co-ordinates it had been given.

At the moment it struck the ground, the third and final Chinese supplied missile rose from the ground where for weeks it had lain hidden beneath the tarpaulin and scaffolding in the square. The Pillar of Light had not been an obelisk or a monument. It had been the cover operation for the launch silo of Jannati’s final strike and he had planned for the empty silo to become the real monument to Iran’s emergence into world power.

The proximity of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps headquarters to the launch site however had results that nobody had planned for. As it penetrated deep within the complex, the two ton weapon exploded, throwing out a maelstrom of glass, concrete and shrapnel. It was a piece of red hot metal no more than two inches square that struck the missile just below the warhead. Most of its kinetic energy was spent as it carved through the metal casing but it had enough momentum left to penetrate inside the delicate guidance system.

While it didn’t actually damage any of the circuitry there, it did land atop a wire harness where it stayed for a further twenty seconds before the vibration of ascent caused it to drop down and fall across the terminals of the guidance connections. Instead of the missile arcing over and aiming directly for the heart of Tel Aviv, it continued its ascent unimpeded at a speed of 7 kilometres per second, almost Mach 23. At an altitude of 300 kilometres above the Earth, the metal shard shook free and awakening from its enforced stupor the warhead finally separated and detonated at 0337 UTC.


SPEAR FLIGHT
OVER ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0537 IST (0337 UTC)


Spear flight had lost just one aircraft when it was caught by a missile fired from one of the S-300 batteries surrounding the Alpha Target site. Shapira had seen no sign of an ejection seat but then he had been busy dealing with the Iranian Air Force.

In exchange for that one loss to the Israelis, Shapira knew they had made six positive kills on Iranian Mig-29s. The leaders of both strike packages reported no losses and definitive destruction of both sites with no launch.

It was as they had scurried for the relative safety of Iraqi airspace that he had seen the bright, rising trail of a missile at his six o’clock position. At first he had believed it to be a final attempt by a desperate anti-aircraft battery commander until he realised that the trail was too bright and seemed to be continuing vertically.

His mouth went dry as he realised that this had to be the third missile and despite all they had achieved, it now amounted to nothing. Iran had managed to release the missile unscathed and it was now heading for his homeland.

He had just begun the order for Spear flight to conduct nuclear protocols when the warhead detonated. He threw his arm up across his face yet the brilliance of the airburst still temporarily blinded him. Instantly the aircraft went into shutdown and Shapira knew that despite the best attempts to shield the aircraft’s electronics from EMP, it hadn’t worked.

He had enough altitude to attempt to stabilise the aircraft’s attitude but it meant little as the F-35 had never been designed as a glider. Its wing surface and structure had been designed to fight in tight turns and high-g manoeuvres. He knew there and then that eventually he would need to eject.

His eyes streaming and unseeing, he hurtled down towards the desolate landscape of Northern Iraq and he said a small prayer before activating the ejector seat.


TEL NOF ISRAELI AIR FORCE BASE
REKHOVOT
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0537 IST (0337 UTC)

When the man had burst through Green’s door, he at first thought it was the security guard who had been standing outside the main entrance. But in the brief moment that his consciousness was his own, he realised belatedly that it wasn’t.

With one barked word of “Shamshir!” Green became the unthinking automaton again and listened as he was given orders to quickly make his way outside and get into the van waiting there.

Responding immediately, he never saw the stranger place the incendiary charges in the room. He barely noticed the Israeli guard lying by the open door with his neck at an odd angle. His focus was on the military van parked by the curb which he quickly scrambled in to.

Beyond his vision, there was the whoosh of ignited accelerant and Green briefly smelt smoke before the front door opened and slammed shut again. Peeling away from the curb, the van sped through the quiet base and was five minutes beyond the main gate when several things happened at once.

The first was the sudden blooming of a bright light high above which challenged the coming dawn in its intensity. It lasted for a split second but it left after images in Green’s eyes that he found difficult to clear. The van coughed, stalled and began to freewheel, fighting the still engaged gears.

Green knew no more after that because in his head, a pain so intense and sharp stripped away any semblance of consciousness leaving him to twitch involuntarily in the back of the van. A force, unseen but violent, had just changed Green’s future.
 
Chapter 6 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
6 (cont)


MIDDLE EAST REGION
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0537 IST (0337 UTC)

EMP is the seemingly innocent acronym for an Electro Magnetic Pulse. It is an unusual and generally unknown (to the man in the street at least) by-product of a nuclear explosion, particularly when it occurs above the earth’s atmosphere.

It is that thin layer of atmosphere combined with the Earth’s enveloping magnetic field which has not only allowed life to thrive on Earth by retaining the fundamental elements of air and water, but also protected it from dangerous radiation.

Looking into a summer sky it is easy to forget that on a fairly regular basis, 150 million kilometres away from the Earth, the Sun’s surface boils with huge solar storms emitting powerful streams of deadly radiation across the solar system and out into deep space. If not for this slim protective layer of atmosphere and surrounding magnetic field then, life on Earth would have become a historical footnote for the cosmos.

Even with this protection however, these storms can be so powerful that enough disruptive energy reaches the Earth’s surface to drown out radio waves and even occasionally affect electrical power grids on the surface.

Imagine then the detonation of a nuclear weapon 300 kilometres above the surface of the Earth. Its release of energy is much the same as those solar storms but because of its proximity to the Earth, extremely intensified. When the weapon detonates, it produces the heat of a thermo nuclear explosion of course, but that would remain relatively unfelt on the surface. It is the emission of a powerful wave of gamma rays hitting the upper atmosphere that creates an electrical disturbance known as the Compton Effect. Suddenly, the intensity is magnified, analogous to the dislodged pebble that creates an avalanche.

At the speed of light this disturbance races to the Earth’s surface, unseen and unfelt by living organisms. To electrical systems however, it is deadly.

As this pulse strikes the surface, its power could reach up to hundreds of amps per square yard though it would cause a person standing in the open little discomfort. Perhaps a slight tingling but nothing more and nearly all the energy would be absorbed into the ground and dissipate.

It is wherever it strikes wires, metal surfaces, antennas, and power lines that the real disaster begins. It will travel along those metal surfaces much like lightning will follow a lightning rod, and the longer the wire, the more energy will be absorbed. A high tension wire miles long could absorb tens of thousands of amps, and this is where the destruction starts to multiply exponentially. After all, what is the power grid that supplies major cities with electricity other than miles of electrical cable strung above the countryside?

Delicate electronic circuits, computer chips, relays, in fact anything connected to that conducting metal and which modern day to day life relies on will, in that instant, be overloaded by the massive energy surge and fail instantly. It will race through houses, streets, towns and cities destroying all delicate electronics even as it destroys all the major components all the way back to the power company’s generators and the phone company’s main relays. All this will happen over a vast area and take perhaps less than a second. A nation’s entire power grid and all that it supports would be wiped out.

With the exception of that single bright flash in the sky, many of the Middle East’s residents were unaware that anything had changed until they noted that the power was off. In many areas it was such a common occurrence that still, nobody took any notice. Some tried to report the power out by calling the power company, but of course the phone didn’t work.

Stepping out into the street to ask their neighbours if they too had suffered a power out, they noticed the stalled traffic on the street, drivers becoming first angry then unnerved that not a single vehicle would turn over, the electronics that the vehicles relied on now so much scrap silicon.

Within hours the food in home and store freezers began to thaw, and the air conditioning that for so long had made life in the cities bearable was unable to prevent those previously cool oases from becoming insufferable ovens.

Law enforcement became untenable without radios and cell phones. Even if the communication systems had remained intact, how could they respond without the specialist vehicles that enabled them to perform their duties? Fires burnt uncontrollably for the want of a serviceable pump unit. Accidents went untended by the vital medical services and their life saving electronic equipment.

And the death toll continued to rise. Airliners caught within the EMP plummeted to earth where hundreds more would die in the multiple crash zones, either instantly or waiting for help that had no hope of arriving.

Hospitals and nursing homes naturally had back up generators, but those generators were “hot wired” into the building so that power could kick in instantly if the main systems shut down. It was precisely that “hot wiring” that meant the EMP destroyed the system. Almost every patient dependent on life support equipment in ICUs from the very oldest to the newborns would be dead within hours despite the most valiant attempts of the nursing staff. Oxygen generators and respirators failed within seconds and as the temperatures soared within the previously air conditioned buildings, more died.

It had taken just seconds for the heart of the Middle East to be plunged back into the dark ages.


THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON DC, USA
EARTH
22nd January 2026 – 2251 EST (23rd January 2026 – 0351 UTC)


“Mr President?”

Stearman felt his shoulder shaken gently, and then once again.

“Mr President, you need to get up and dress immediately. There’s been an incident.”

Opening bleary eyes he saw an anonymous Secret Service agent by his bedside and behind him, in the doorway, stood a second.

“What?” He rubbed fitfully at his eyes. “An incident where?”

“Right now Sir, you need to get dressed and come with me. The NSA will explain when you’re aboard Marine One.”

The Acting President felt himself pulled gently upright and guided to the shower, unable to resist even had he wanted to. Dowsing his face with cold water at least brought him a veneer of awareness and he quickly donned the tracksuit that had been laid out by staff in preparation for his morning run.

“This way please Sir.”

Once again the strong hand was on his arm, guiding him at a brisk trot down the main staircase and out on to the South Lawn of the White House where the green and white VH-22 tilt-rotor of Marine Helicopter Squadron One (HMX-1), sat waiting for him.

In the darkness he noted the shadowy forms of armed men forming a perimeter around the aircraft before he was hustled up the rear ramp into its dimly lit interior. The ramp was still lifting as the twin rotors ran up to full speed and the aircraft rose from the White House lawn to speed south east towards Andrews Air Force Base.

Finally strapped into his seat, he turned to glare at Robert Carmel in the seat opposite him.

“Just what the hell is going on?”

“NORAD has just confirmed a single nuclear event over Israel Mr President. It has also been confirmed that it was launched from Iran. Under the Continuity of Government Plan, you are now being flown to Andrews Air Force Base where you will board an E-4C. Once airborne…”

Stearman held up his hands. “Stop right there. You’re telling me that because Israel has been attacked, you’re expecting an attack on the United States?”

“Sir, with all due respect, we are following a contingency procedure that has been in place for forty years or more. It has safeguarded the government during that time despite the continental United States only once coming under attack. It’s my duty to ensure that you survive any threat, real or theoretical, to continue leading this country.”

Stearman’s face was ashen as he listened to Carmel, images of a nuclear apocalypse dancing in front of his tired eyes.

“So, will we be attacked?”

For a moment, Carmel almost felt sympathy for the man. In a single day he had been faced with more global crises than some Commander-in-Chiefs faced in a full term. Of course for Carmel, the procedure was starting to become old hat. First there had been the invasion of South Korea, then the January attacks on the US.

“I suspect that won’t happen Sir, but we need to be prepared,” he said quietly. “Once aboard the E4-C at Andrews there will be a full briefing from the Joint Chiefs of Staff and we’ll know more then.”

The rest of the journey to Andrews continued in silence with Carmel watching Stearman closely. He’d been honest when he said he didn’t believe that an attack was forthcoming on the US, but his concern was that if it did, could Stearman be relied upon to cope.

As soon as the VH-22’s wheels kissed the ground at Andrews AFB, the Acting President was unstrapped and hustled with as much decorum as the situation allowed on to the giant E4-C.

The E-4C Advanced Airborne Command Post was designed to be used by the National Command Authority as a survivable command post for control of US forces in the event of a crisis that disabled central government in Washington DC. Like its VC-25B sister aircraft, this was a converted Boeing 747-400 but its mission and equipment fit were more appropriate for an aircraft of war.

The aircraft had begun to taxi the moment the stairs had been retracted and Stearman and Carmel were quickly shown to their seats with the senior military commanders on the aircraft.

Carmel only hoped that the situation in the Middle East was one that could be contained before it spread like wildfire around the world.


JOHNSON SPACE CENTRE
HOUSTON
TEXAS, USA
EARTH
22nd January 2026 – 2156 CST (23rd January 2026 – 0356 UTC)

The room was quiet as Mitch sipped at the Jack Daniels he was holding. He had confided everything to his closest friend who now sat opposite him with a worried expression on his face.

“What can I do?” he’d asked, time and again. “I want to be there for her, for the girls too. But what do I say? “Excuse me, I need extended leave from the program because I’m in a relationship with the President of the United States but don’t tell anybody.” Yeah that should work.”

Marker felt in a total bind. His usual relationship advice to comrades involved few words and most of those weren’t the sort that tended to be used much outside the Marines anyway. But this was his closest friend and it was obvious that he was hurting badly.

As they’d spoken quietly about events that had led up to the start of Mitch’s relationship, Marker had seen a different side to the man he thought he’d known. Gone was the banter that serving forces members used to cover up their genuine feelings of camaraderie and instead a facet of Mitch had emerged that Marker had never suspected.

He’d carefully mulled the situation over and at last set down his empty glass.

“Well if you’re seriously asking somebody like me for advice, and I have to tell you this one is way out of my league, I can only see one solution Mitch. Speak to Jim Packard.”

“What?” Mitch spluttered past the mouth full of Tennessee whiskey he’d just taken. “Are you serious?”

“Totally Mitch,” replied Marker earnestly. “Look, the man is at the top of the food chain as far as the military is concerned. He knows you and trust me, with the amount of face time he has to put in at the White House, even if he doesn’t actually know about you and Maddy it’s a fair bet that he has a damn good idea.”

Before he had a chance to reply, the PA system above the door crackled to life.

“Attention all astronaut candidates. Members of the MACO training program are to report to the duty briefing room immediately. I say again, members of the MACO training program are to report to the duty briefing room immediately. End of broadcast.”

Both men were on their feet instantly, a by product of years of military service, but before they left the room Marker placed a hand on Mitch’s shoulder.

“Seriously man, speak to Packard.”

Mitch nodded and managed a quiet smile. “Assuming I get the chance.”


NEW TEHERAN
IRAN
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0740 IRST (0410 UTC)

Shaheen felt the heavy weight of concrete and glass being gently lifted from him. Through the dust choked gloom, he could barely make out the shattered frame of the balcony doors but it was quite obvious that there was no longer a balcony.

“He is alive!”

“Quickly, take this and get the medics in here!”

Shouted orders and replies could be heard in the nearby corridor as Shaheen struggled to recall those final moments of consciousness. Had the missile exploded? Obviously not the warhead because he wouldn’t have been having this internal debate, but the missile it was supposed to ride aloft on.

He recalled watching Jannati and then the sudden explosion outside, but there had been something before that as well. His mind filled in the blanks as he recalled the brief wail of the air raid sirens.

The Israelis! Had they hit the weapon before it could launch?

“He’s in here! Quickly!”

“Where is the Supreme Leader?”

Shaheen didn’t hear the answer to the question as he felt more rubble lifted from his battered body before gentle hands lifted him free. Coughing and stumbling, they carried him from the room on a makeshift stretcher until at last he felt the smoke tinged breeze on his face. Above them, dawn had broken revealing a blue sky barely glimpsed through the pall of smoke that drifted lazily across the square.

Cries of pain mixed with barked orders and emergency vehicle sirens in a clamour of overwhelming sound and abstractedly, Shaheen hoped that one of those cries of agony belonged to Jannati.

“I need to get a line into him!”

He was sure he heard a dog barking close by before the sedative stole away his thoughts.
 
Chapter 7

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
7


THE SOLAR SYSTEM

The universe is an immense place. It seems like stating the obvious of course, but few people actually give any thought to the concept of how big it really is. Some have posited that this is because it is so big, the concept is meaningless unless you are an astrophysicist. But to give you an idea of our place in the universe, consider this.

Our Milky Way galaxy is just one of an estimated 100 billion galaxies in the universe, and it contains roughly 200 billion stars. Located in the outer spiral arm known as the Orion Arm, about 70000 light years from the core, is one of those stars.

It is a G-type main sequence star comprising about 99.86% of the total mass of the system that it parents and is often referred to as an average or unremarkable star. This is a little unfair; after all, this unremarkable specimen was the life-giving star selected precisely for its characteristics by an ancient race, or so the theory has evolved.

This race, whose name and existence has never been empirically proven, is believed to have seeded the Milky Way galaxy with humanoid life explaining why - according to the proponents of the theory - humanoid life forms are so prevalent.

Selection of this star could not have been a random process if the theory is to be believed. After all, if they were to seed a system with life, what would be the point of placing it around a star incapable of nurturing and sustaining that life?

Whoever they may have been, once their task of seeding was complete, they seemed to fade into obscurity. However, as humanoid life developed and began to evolve, another race appeared amongst them. Again, there would eventually arise proponents and detractors regarding the existence of this race as well, but the evidence in their favour was much stronger.

Artefacts, legends and more would be discovered pointing to the reality of this race that would come to be known as The Preservers. Like their apocryphal predecessors, their intentions were of the highest order. Rather than creating new life though their modus operandi seemed to be the preservation of established life as their name suggested, either by transplantation of that life to a safer environment or by covertly protecting the environment that contained life.

And so we return to the G-Type star known to the civilization that circled it as The Sun. Seeded by the unknown race, humanity struggled and gained a foothold that The Preservers saw as tenuous but viable. They had seen the cataclysm wrought by the impact of a huge asteroid which they had not been in a position to prevent, but under their watchful eye humanity survived.

Such was their faith in this species becoming a race of note that they decided precautions were in order to prevent the random chance of destruction occurring again. As they had on many other planets, The Preservers left an obelisk within the Solar System; a sentinel as it were.

Secreted from the view of humanity in accordance with their own version of the Prime Directive, this sentinel now metaphorically opened a sleepy eye as it detected the approaching threat. Despite mankind’s increasing exploration of the Solar System they had never detected this obelisk, hidden as it was deep within the depths of Jupiter’s hydrogen and helium atmosphere.

But it was there, and now it was active.


YANGLIUQING SECURITY BUNKER
XIQING DISTRICT
TIANJIN
CHINA
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1213 China Standard Time (0413 UTC)


Arrayed on the walls of the underground command bunker were numerous LED screens, each one taking feeds from independent news organisations around the world. Others were tied into the military reconnaissance and reporting network showing status reports on Chinese forces deployed across the Asian continent and the seas beyond.

Only one screen was blank and Chimera stared at it balefully. It was the single satellite they had that should have currently covered the area around Israel. Whether its sensors had simply been blinded by the blast or the satellite itself had been vaporised, he didn’t know. The human assets they had on the ground were not responding to emergency protocols either which did not bode well.

The only thing he was certain of was that there had been a nuclear attack against Israel by Iran.

Analysts had traced the routes of the Israeli strike forces to their focal points in Iran and were now awaiting the repositioning of one of their military satellites to accurately assess just what had been their target. However, one of the biggest surprises had been the launch point of the single missile. Telemetry had shown that without doubt it had been launched from the centre of Iran’s new capital.

“Who were the aggressors Colonel?”

Chimera directed the question at the grizzled PLA veteran in command of the bunker’s military section. He was a man Chimera knew and trusted implicitly or he would not have been there at all.

In the dim light of the bunker operations centre, Wang Aiguo stroked his chin thoughtfully before answering.

“Right now Sir it is difficult to ascertain. At first glance, one could conclude that Israel’s strike against Iran prompted the launching of the missile.”

Something in Wang’s demeanour told Chimera that this wasn’t how he saw it however.

“Let me rephrase the question then Colonel. In the current absence of hard facts, what would your personal assessment be?”

Wang turned to approach Chimera on the balcony that circled the main floor. “Ah, now that would present a different answer Sir.” He smiled, now in his element as a strategist. “My belief is that the Iranians, by means currently unknown, obtained warheads and missiles with the range and destructive power to obliterate Israel. Israel in the meantime, having uncovered this information, decided on a pre-emptive strike to prevent the launching of these weapons.”

He pointed at the map on the largest screen. “Look how they converged on two targets alone. Targets, I may add, that previously have shown no military or strategic value. The other strikes by UAVs were ones of military value only in the sense that they were designed to decapitate the leadership and destroy any future production of weapons.”

He turned once more to face Chimera. “Despite this pre-emptive strike, Iran still had time to prepare and launch at least one missile suggesting that it was already on the verge of being launched anyway.” Raising an eyebrow, he concluded, “Of course this is just my personal assessment.”

Chimera had complete faith in his hypothesis; it tallied with his own thoughts almost to the letter though he said nothing to Wang about it. Instead he asked, “Will others around the world see it this way?”

“That depends on two factors Sir. How good are the other nation’s strategic thinkers and will their leaders believe them.”

Before Chimera could respond further, an aide appeared at his shoulder.

“Sir”, he said quietly as Wang discretely withdrew, “we have just received this from Song Mingli.”

The aide passed an encrypted data slate to Chimera before also withdrawing to give his leader privacy. On the slate was the image of his security commander and he thumbed the security tab. In an instant, his biometric signature had been scanned and recognised allowing the message to play.

“Sir, we believe we have discovered one of the centres we have been searching for. I await your instructions.”

He bowed his head deferentially and the screen went blank. Song was obviously referring to the mind control facilities that had increasingly appeared to be nothing more than phantoms. Chimera’s heart sank realising that if it were true, then China had been infiltrated by its enemies. Worse still, it had been at the invitation of Juan’s predecessor.

“Colonel Wang, I have pressing business. Advise me immediately of any further developments.”

Bowing formally the Colonel watched as Chimera left the room, wondering how it was possible that his commander could have suddenly looked even more forlorn.


JOHNSON SPACE CENTRE
HOUSTON
TEXAS, USA
EARTH
22nd January 2026 – 2217 CST (23rd January 2026 – 0417 UTC)

The quiet of the duty briefing room was broken as one of the AsCans at the rear called them to attention.

“As you were please ladies and gentlemen.”

Striding to the front of the briefing room was a man whose every movement exuded restrained action. Despite his immaculate uniform, those present knew him as a soldier’s soldier, a man who had commanded respect by deeds not by position.

General Charles Grey, of Air Force Special Operations Command, was the nominal head of the MACO programme and his very presence here at such a late hour was evidence that something somewhere in the world was terribly wrong because he was a great believer in allowing his troops their earned downtime.

“I won’t take up too much of your time I hope, but although you are all astronaut candidates you are also still military personnel under a unified command.” Checking that the door to the briefing room was now sealed, he let his gaze wander over the men and women before him. “It is my sad duty to inform you that at 0337 Zulu Iran struck Israel with a single nuclear weapon.”

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room at the news. Many believed this visit would perhaps have had something to do with the downing of Air Force One. This, they hadn’t expected.

“Subsequently, all military personnel are now being advised to standby at station for further orders. I honestly cannot say if this will affect you or your training schedule which, at this time, should continue as planned.”

With the official line delivered, he leaned on the table at the front of the room.

“Before you ask, I don’t have a great deal more information to offer on the event. Comms and recon are down in the area which is consistent with a nuclear event, but other than that I’m afraid we’ll all have to sit tight and hope this doesn’t precipitate further action. Any questions?”

He wasn’t surprised when the room remained silent but unusually for him, he was at a loss to know what to say. Jingoism wasn't his style, and without the needed information, he refused to supply guess work. He settled for “Carry on,” and left the room wondering if his new unit would disband before it had even had chance to enter the training phase.
 
Chapter 7 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
7 (cont)


E4-C ‘NIGHTWATCH’
ORBITING OFF THE EASTERN SEABOARD OF THE US
EARTH
22nd January 2026 – 2347 EST (23rd January 2026 – 0447 UTC)


As Carmel gazed out of the E4-C’s window, he could see the red and green navigation lights of a pair of F-22 Raptors off the starboard wingtip. Out beyond them in the darkness was the unseen form of a KC-45 refuelling tanker that would be rotated to keep the E4-C and it’s fighter escort airborne as long as was deemed necessary.

Confirmation had just arrived that the back-up government facilities had been polled and would be online within minutes, the final link in the Continuity of Government Plan.

The back-up government consisted of anything from 70 to 150 people at two principal locations on the East Coast making use of geological features to render them highly secure. Once activated for what some called "bunker duty", the staff lived and worked underground 24 hours a day, away from their families.

Those deployed on the operation were not allowed to tell anyone where they were going or why. They were simply on a 'business trip'. Like the Secure National Command Post at Cheesman Lake, the sites were well stocked with food, water, medicine and other supplies and were capable of generating their own power, hardened as far as possible against the effects of EMP. There were telephone lines and secure audio and video links to the rest of government across the nation as well as to the airborne command posts.

Around the table in the conference room of ‘Nightwatch’ were Acting President Stearman, NSA Robert Carmel, the Chairman of the JCS Admiral Packard and his vice chairman, General Carmichael F. Terry of the USMC. They’d also managed to pick up Secretary of State, Lisa Turner and Secretary of Homeland Security, Andrea Spinelli. Other minor functionaries were filling in for the department heads who would now be heading for one of the secure locations.

Sitting silently at the rear of the room was the Air Force officer carrying the nuclear ‘football’.

“Mr President, ladies, gentlemen; polling of all conference parties is now complete. ‘Nightwatch’ is securely connected to ‘Upkeep 1’ and ‘Upkeep 2’.”

The communication technician handed the briefing over to Packard who spoke slowly and authoritatively to the connected parties. Nobody noticed the slight shake in his hands.

“At 0337 Zulu NORAD confirmed a single nuclear event centred on the co-ordinates 31° 47' N 35° 13' E. This corresponds to the location of Jerusalem. The event has been estimated as being in the 3 megaton range and at an altitude not exceeding 300 kilometres.”

He brought up a schematic of Western Iran centred on Teheran which was simultaneously displayed on the screens of the ‘Upkeep’ secure locations.

“Preceding this strike, a Boeing E3-C Sentry, callsign Magic 22 out Al Udeid Air Base, Qatar, monitored three strike packages from Israel hit targets in Iran with conventional weapons.”

“It’s been confirmed that the Tehran Nuclear Research Centre, the Tehran Molybdenum, Iodine and Xenon Radioisotope Production Facility, the Tehran Jabr Ibn Hayan Multipurpose Laboratories and the Kalaye Electric Company in the Tehran suburbs are all reported destroyed or seriously damaged. Also the government secure bunker in the northern suburbs was destroyed.”

He flipped the page on his data slate.

“The new government buildings and headquarters of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps in New Teheran, which we believed were still unoccupied, were also destroyed or seriously damaged.”

The image changed to show a wider view of Iran with more red crosshairs displayed.

“Further strikes were made against the uranium enrichment facility in Natanz; a heavy water plant and radioisotope facility in Arak; the Ardekan Nuclear Fuel Unit; the Uranium Conversion Facility and Nuclear Technology Center in Isfahan and the nuclear power plant in the Iranian city of Bushehr. Mr President, ladies, gentlemen, that is all I have.”

“All you have Admiral?” Stearman seemed incredulous. “You’ve given me extremely accurate information about exactly how much damage was done to Iran and yet precious little about the nuclear massacre in Israel. How can that be all you have?”

Packard took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before he answered. “Sir, I understand this is your first time in one of these scenarios but when I say ‘that is all I have’, it means that is the only confirmed information I have. If you wish me to continue with speculative information, I can although I feel it is ill advised.”

“Humour your Commander in Chief Admiral.” Stearman said it lightly as if the world wasn’t really on the brink of oblivion once again.

“Very well Mr President. Because this was a high altitude airburst, casualties from the detonation itself would have been negligible. However, the death toll will rise rapidly because of a force known as an Electro Magnetic Pulse, or EMP. I won’t go into the science of it Sir, suffice to say that anything electronic or electrical within quite a large radius will simply cease to operate, permanently.”

Packard stood and began to pace the small conference room as he continued, feeling suddenly claustrophobic.

“It explains why we have no concrete information from either our satellites over the area which are now effectively dead, or our ground sources who have no way whatsoever of getting communications out because their equipment is equally dead. I could give you a list as long as my arm of electronic services vital to daily life that are no longer available Sir, which is why the death toll will rise. The EMP is likely to have affected surrounding areas in Jordan, Northern Saudi Arabia, Western Syria, Lebanon and Cyprus.”

Stearman was starting to look pale but Packard pressed on.

“At least partial effects will have been felt in Eastern Egypt, Southern Turkey, Western Iraq and any air or sea traffic in the Eastern Mediterranean region will also be affected.”

He finished pacing and took his seat once more giving Stearman a patently false smile.

“I have to remind you of course Mr President that what you have just heard is speculative information only.”

For several seconds, the Acting President sat silently, his eyes focussed somewhere thousands of miles away. Abruptly, Stearman rose from his seat at the head of the conference table on unsteady legs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to call a brief pause to this meeting and ask the NSA and CJCS to meet with me in private in five minutes. Excuse me.”

Followed by the obligatory Secret Service agent and the officer with the nuclear ‘football’, he hurriedly left the conference room.

Carmel looked worriedly at Packard who gave the slightest of shrugs to indicate that he didn’t understand the undertones of it either.

“Very well, ah, all parties are to continue preparations under OPLAN-8020 and the brief will reconvene at,” he checked the clock on the forward bulkhead, “0510 Zulu.”

As Packard and Carmel headed forward five minutes later, they were each wondering if this would signify the watershed event they had been dreading.


FBI FIELD OFFICE
WASHINGTON DC, USA
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0005 EST (0505 UTC)

Baxter had been dozing fitfully, sprawled across two office chairs as he awaited an update from the FBI's Digital Evidence Laboratory's Forensic Audio, Video, and Image Analysis Unit based in Quantico, Virginia. The security recordings from Jarvis’ hotel and Flanagan’s Bar had been dispatched to them immediately and overnight, specialists had been sifting through the footage.

The pain killers that he’d been prescribed certainly helped push him towards sleep and the events of the day would have been enough to exhaust anybody, but the honest truth was that Baxter was tired in his soul.

Divorced for two years now, he had kept promising himself that he would take early retirement and move away from Washington DC altogether. With his wife and family now estranged however, he’d found that his life genuinely only consisted of his work with the FBI, and the office he now dozed in was as much his home as the charming late 19th century house he still owned in the historic Cleveland Park neighbourhood.

He’d sent Collins home, telling her there that was no point in both of them getting a sore back and besides, she could pick up breakfast for them both on her way back in.

He was drifting in and out of a dream where aircraft were falling from the skies above him and he was concerned that he didn’t have an umbrella when his terminal chimed loudly. He rolled sideways and eventually managed to unbend himself enough to answer the chime.

“Baxter.”

The face that appeared on the screen made him smile, as it did every time he’d spoken with her. Elizabeth Redding was everybody’s favourite image of the aunty that gets drunk at the family Christmas party. Her grey haired, twinkly eyed countenance expertly concealed the fact that she had been with the Bureau since the mid 1980s serving as a linguist and cryptographer. Only ever referred to as Betty, by her choice, she smiled at him now as she studied his unkempt appearance.

“Sleeping in the office again John? Isn’t it about time you got yourself back out in the dating pool again? You’re turning into a hermit!”

Feeling like a first grader who’d just been chastised by their favourite teacher, he mumbled something about the press of work that Betty shook her head at.

“Same old excuses John. Remember how Howard Hughes ended up?”

“I guess you're not referring to his a millions in the bank or the famous women he dated?”

She gave him a look that was somewhere in the region of a thousand years old and told him not to get sassy, then punched a button on her keyboard. On his screen appeared an image of the interior of Flanagan’s Bar with Mike Jarvis centre screen.

“You’ll be glad to know we’ve struck gold John. The boys and girls here couldn’t clean up the ambient sound enough to get the conversation, because the mystery man here kept his voice low.”

The video began to roll and showed a smartly dressed man of Middle Eastern appearance approach Jarvis’ booth. He was tall, his receding hair slicked back and with hooded eyes as dark as night.

“Good thing I can lip read better than I can get you to stop living like a recluse. Watch.”

Smiling, the man leaned in towards Jarvis and said something. Immediately, Jarvis’ face became slack and emotionless.

“What just happened there Betty?”

“My best guess is a control word. We’ve seen it before where a single word is used as a passkey to activate a subject’s state of compliance or reception for instructions. Look at his face John; he sees nothing.”

He zoomed in the image and ran the video again, unable to decipher the movement of the mystery man’s lips.

“Do we know what he said?”

In the small window at the bottom of the screen he saw Betty nod and smile.

“One word; Shamshir.” He was about to ask exactly what that might mean, but she held up her hands. “It’s Persian, both a description and a name actually. It translates as "curved like the tiger's nail" but it’s used to describe this.”

Hitting another key, the video screen slid aside to reveal an image of a sword of some kind.

“This, John, is a Shamshir, and I quote: “The Shamshir is a one-handed, curved sword featuring a slim blade that has almost no taper until the very tip and is the quintessential long-sword of the horsemen of Persia.” That’s Iran to you and me.”

Baxter stared incredulously at the image. An Iranian sword, the Sword of Iran!

“Did we get anything else at all Betty?” he asked excitedly.

She shook her head, restoring the video screen. “’Fraid not John. When he sits down next to your target, he turns his head just enough to block his mouth. The only other camera in range was blocked by the booth partition.” The screen shrunk once more and Betty reappeared in all her innocent glory.

“The good news is that the labs have done a workup on the mystery boy and there’s a profile included in the files I’m sending you now. It’s already been sent out to all the necessary agencies with you marked as point of contact.”

“Betty I could kiss you!”

She grimaced playfully. “I’m old enough to be…well, your big sister at least. Do me a favour John, go out and find somebody your own age. If you ain’t starry eyed by the next time we speak, I’m cutting you out of my will.”

With a suggestive wink, she terminated the comm and Baxter sat back breathlessly, his earlier fatigue forgotten. The hunt was on.
 
Commentary on Chapter 5

The FBI tries to retrace the footsteps of a seemingly innocuous pilot. One wonders whether the lack of anything outwardly strange or different about the man is worrisome to the agents in and of itself.

With the Israeli launch of attack aircraft in their pre-emptive strike, global events again seem on the precipice of spinning completely out of control. When even such meticulous planners as Shaheen and Chimera are unable to delay the coming chaos, the end results are almost certain to be unfortunate.

Fantastic realism and detail in your recounting of the opening Israeli actions against Iran. Once again, you’ve captured the fear, apprehension, and drama of combat in your writing.
 
Star Trek : Angel - Book IV - Saving History II - Info

Well things ain't going well in 2026 are they?:rolleyes:

There'll be a short break in writing and posting for a week or so as I need to take a little while out healthwise.:(

Plotting and writing will continue on the main story, and there are a couple of vignettes in the works too so the story(s) go on, don't worry.:techman:

In the meantime, your comments and suggestions continue to be welcomed.:cool:

Nige
 
Re: Star Trek : Angel - Book IV - Saving History II - Info

Well things ain't going well in 2026 are they?:rolleyes:

There'll be a short break in writing and posting for a week or so as I need to take a little while out healthwise.:(
I hope it's nothing too serious. I'm sending good vibes your way.

Plotting and writing will continue on the main story, and there are a couple of vignettes in the works too so the story(s) go on, don't worry.:techman:
I'll be ready and waiting to pick up on your story when you get back. :)
 
Commentary on Chapter 6

Man, Stearman’s getting a trial-by-fire beyond belief in his first few days as acting president!

I loved the combat scenes and the fluidly presented technical details as you explained the conflagration of events that surrounded the Israeli strike and simultaneous Iranian missile launch.

Shaheen remains as lucky as he is cagy, and I wonder if he’ll take the opportunity to seize the reigns of power in Iran if given the opportunity.

You’re maintaining a terrific momentum here as events continue to cascade towards what appears to be a catastrophic conclusion.
 
Commentary on Chapter 7

Just when I think I’m getting a handle on the various situations here, you throw a curveball like the alien monolith in Jupiter’s atmosphere. Whether or not this thing can avert the incoming asteroid, or if it’s efforts will be at cross purposes to whatever Earth dispatches to intercept the rock… well, that remains to be seen.

I’m pleased to see the US government taking the situation seriously, but Stearman has me worried. I’m wondering what this mini-meeting is all about.

The pieces of the US government’s investigation into events are beginning to fall into place, but I don’t know if the full picture will form in time for the good guys to do anything proactive.

Excellent job with the continually escalating tension and drama.
 
Hi guys!

Well I'm back, though a tiny bit slow at the moment. Don't worry, work continues apace on the story; it just might take a little while to get back into my stride! :techman:

Sam, thanks for the continued reviews, as always they're both welcome and entertaining. Appreciated mate, and I promise I'll get back to GEOMETRIES ASAP!

To all who PM'ed with well wishes, thank you so much.

Keep this frequency clear!!
 
Chapter 8

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
8

E4-C ‘NIGHTWATCH’
ORBITING OFF THE EASTERN SEABOARD OF THE US
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0010 EST (0510 UTC)

When Carmel and Packard were eventually shown into Stearman’s private office forward of the conference room, he’d changed his shirt and had a little more colour in his face. Asking both the Secret Service agent and the ‘football’ carrier to wait outside, he offered Packard and Carmel a drink.

They both accepted a cool fruit juice and sat waiting for Stearman’s proclamation. It took a little while to come however as Stearman carefully mulled over his words, but when it did it was a shock to both of them.

“Gentlemen, I owe the both of you a sincere apology. Actually I owe a lot of people an apology, but I’d like to start with you two. Since being sworn in, people have tried to help me find my feet and I’ve been a complete ass.”

Carmel briefly wondered if, in the five minutes he’d been gone from the conference room, Stearman had been replaced by a clone with humility.

“I’ll get straight to the point gentlemen because time is of the essence. I am desperately out of my depth here and it’s a situation that needs to be remedied as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter that most people in that conference room actually already believe I’m an ass, as Acting President I’m not going to commit the stupid act of admitting it.”

Could be alien abduction mused Carmel, still not believing this sudden turnaround of events.

“However, despite what you might personally believe, I trust in each and every one of you and in particular you two. I will need advice, I will need shepherding, but I will need it succinctly and discretely because the one thing this country cannot afford right now is to see me dithering.” He exhaled deeply. “I’d naturally appreciate your discretion in this matter, if not for me, then for the sake of the country during this period.”

Carmel glanced briefly at Packard and could see his emotions mirrored there.

“Mr President, I think I speak for Admiral Packard as well when I say that the welfare of the country is our one and only concern. We can advise and inform, but you have to remember that when it hits the bottom line, the executive decisions are yours alone.”

“I’m aware of that and I pray to God that if I have to make decisions of such magnitude, they’ll be guided by the people I trust.”

He stood and started fastening his tie, regaining his previous image of minutes before, yet there was something decisive about the man now and the show of humility had restored some level of faith in Carmel. If it was an act, it was a good one, but he prayed to God that it wasn't.

“Right,” declared Stearman, “let’s try and find out just what is happening out there.”


TEHERAN
IRAN
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0917 IRST (0547 UTC)


Major General Reza Habibi had survived the attack on the headquarters of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps because of a simple flat tyre. It had delayed his race to New Teheran by fifteen minutes and by the time he arrived it was only to witness the aftermath of the attack. He had supervised the rescue of Shaheen from the semi collapsed ruins of the new government building then stayed with him when he’d been evacuated back to a secure medical facility in Teheran.

He sat now beside the bed of his new leader who waited until the medic tending to his injuries left the room before speaking.

“How did this happen General? How could Jannati have done something this stupid without sending out some indication?”

“It is currently under investigation Shaheen but initial indications are that he had this planned all along. His personal guards and the units at the launch sites had all been recruited secretly from the Revolutionary Guards and had sworn loyalty only to him. It seems that his intention may have been to execute you directly after the missile launches and appropriate the Prophet’s Wrath operation as his own.”

And I, thought Shaheen disbelievingly, never saw it coming!

“What of the remaining leadership?”

“Rescue work at the secure command centre continues Shaheen, but it seems unlikely that they will find survivors. The Guardian Council, the President and several members of the Assembly of Experts were known to be in the command centre when it was struck. The Supreme Leader died in the blast here.”

Shaheen raised his eyes to the peeling paint on the ceiling of the squalid hospital ward and wondered just how this managed to spiral so quickly out of control, but already knew the answer. Jannati.

He had been a man who Shaheen had despised from the start for his lack of morals. While Shaheen would not hesitate to kill or destroy anybody who opposed his goal, it was never an action he actively sought. Jannati, on the other hand, cared only about personal aggrandisement and took perverse pleasure in the destruction of those who stood in his way. It was that very lust for personal power that Shaheen had seen tip over into madness at the end and it could prove to be the single factor that saw Shaheen’s plan of uniting the Muslim Bloc into a single world power unravel. That was an eventuality that he would never accede to.

“General, we must move swiftly to prevent further military action against Iran because we are simply not in a position to defend ourselves.” He turned his intent gaze upon the Imperial Guard commander. “You, my friend, will become Iran’s saviour.”


CVN78 USS GERALD R FORD
NORTH ATLANTIC
EN ROUTE TO
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0412 MIDANT (0612 UTC)


The Ford class aircraft carriers were a class of supercarrier for the United States Navy which replaced the aging Nimitz class carriers. While the new vessels employed a hull design very similar to the Nimitz carriers, many aspects of the design were very different, implementing new and advanced technologies.

The Electromagnetic Aircraft Launch System as well as other design features intended to improve efficiency and running costs, such as a reduced crew requirement, made the vessels the pride of the US blue-water fleet.

Its 2 A1B nuclear reactors gave the huge ship a cruising speed in excess of 30 knots for an unlimited period, a mean clip for a vessel displacing over 100,000 tonnes and carrying a complement of four and a half thousand men and women.

The Gerald R Ford had been the first hull of the line and captaincy of the vessel was an honour much sought after. Captain Michael G Candell would never have believed, however, that just two short months before he handed over command of the ‘Gerald R’ that he would be involved in an operation such as the one he now commanded.

They had steamed North towards the location of the Russian submarine, passing as they did so the original crash site. Candell had dispatched launches and a helicopter to recover whatever they could before darkness had set in while the Ford continued north to the rendezvous point.

The transfer of the survivors from Air Force One went without a hitch as the giant aircraft carrier loomed above the diminutive seeming submarine and before parting company, Candell had invited Barskov aboard to offer his personal thanks. In fact as far as Candell was concerned, the man deserved a medal, though all he had to offer was a handshake and a bottle of malt whiskey.

“Captain Candell, is full report of…er, incident? Yes incident. Is in briefcase yes?” Barskov blushed slightly. “Apologies for poor English. I understand better than speak.”

Candell gave his fellow mariner a candid smile. “Captain Barskov, your English is much better than my Russian.” He pointed out over the giant flight deck where flashing navigation lights pinpointed the positions of the recovery helicopters which were even now completing their task. “I want to thank you and your crew on behalf of the United States government for your swift action today.” His smile widened as he continued. “I’d also like to congratulate your crew on their professionalism from a fellow captain. It’s not much,” he finished handing over the bottle of whiskey, “but it’s from the heart Captain.”

Barskov took the proffered gift with an equally wide smile. “I think this will…be of much more appreciated Captain. Bol'shoe spasibo moemu drugu.”

Barskov snapped off a crisp salute before tucking the bottle safely inside his life preserver and being escorted down to the flight deck. The Ford’s XO noted his Captain’s smile.

“So why didn’t you tell him you understood Russian?”

“He was proud of his linguistic skills Bob. I wasn’t going to take it away from him.”

He picked up his baseball cap and wedged it tightly on to his head, secure against the wind down on the flight deck.

“So what was that last bit?”

“He said ‘thank you very much my friend’. Be nice if our lords and masters could work out something like that wouldn’t it?”

“I would have said they had a shot at it with President Everett, but Stearman?” The XO shook his head sadly. “Not likely while I’m still in the service.”

“Then let’s pray that the current Commander in Chief won’t be away from her desk too long.” He swung open the door to the bridge admitting a cool but not unpleasant breeze. “As soon as we get all the birds back on deck, lay in a course for Norfolk. I’ll be in the medical centre if I’m needed.”


E4-C ‘NIGHTWATCH’
ORBITING OFF THE EASTERN SEABOARD OF THE US
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0351 EST (0851 UTC)

“Admiral, what do you think?” Stearman turned to Packard with a quizzical look on his face.

“This confirms pretty much what we suspected Mister President. The Israelis attacked and successfully destroyed two missile launch sites in Iran but missed the third, assuming that they were even aware of it.”

He pointed to the image on the screen which showed the bombed centre of New Teheran centred on the government building and in a separate smaller window, the opening of what was obviously a hastily constructed silo.

“We caught this before it could be covered with tarpaulin but to be honest, if I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“You’re certain that these weren’t Iranian missiles though.”

“Let me qualify ‘certain’ Sir. Firstly the range and burn observed by our satellites indicated a booster of greater power than the Iranians have tested to date. Secondly, the yield of the weapon indicates a warhead that was heavier than any of the Iranian boosters could carry and, incidentally, more powerful than an Iranian warhead could likely have been.” He sat back in the chair rubbing at tired eyes. “Taking those factors into account Sir, yes I’m certain they weren’t Iranian manufactured missiles.”

Stearman turned from looking at the largest wall screen. “Which leads me on naturally to ask just where the hell they came from.”

Packard held both hands up in submission. “That one is going to have to wait Sir. There are too many unknowns but I suspect that Israel could provide many of the answers.”

“Once we regain communications in the area.”

Stearman had been briefed about the full implications of an EMP and knew that they couldn’t simply put a new communications satellite over the region. If equipment on the ground was incapable of transmitting then it would have nothing to hear.

“Robert, what’s your assessment on the threat to the US.”

Carmel paused before answering even though he already had his answer ready. He stared intently at the image still on the screen that showed the preposterous missile silo in New Teheran.

“In my opinion Sir, the US is safe from missile attack from Iran. From the reconnaissance intelligence we now have, it seems like this was a completely botched operation from start to finish.”

He began ticking off the points on his fingers.

“One, there has been no build up to a follow on operation. In other words once Israel had been hit, there was either no intention to strike with further missiles or no capacity.”

He held up a second finger. “Two, politically, there hasn’t been the peremptory rhetoric that they would normally play to stir up the populace and that is completely out of character. Finally, in over five hours there has been no statement from New Teheran.” He shook his head in some confusion. “I can’t even begin to imagine what Ayatollah Jannati was trying to achieve here. Certainly Israel now has serious problems to contend with but he could just have easily put that missile at ground zero in the centre of Jerusalem.”

He tore his eyes away from the image knowing that a major part of the puzzle was still missing.

“In summary Sir, I would say Iran has shot its bolt and I would expect major internal problems for them. The US should still be alert to the possibility of action here though. If we support Israel, it’s possible that dissident Iranian groups could act unilaterally within our country.”

Stearman appeared perturbed at that thought. With the attacks after the New Year still vivid in the nation’s memory, that could not be allowed to happen.

“Thomas, is that a possibility?”

The FBI director was still on the ground at ‘Upkeep 2’, one of the secure locations and his expression was grim.

“I’m afraid so Mister President. Our ongoing investigations have revealed a group calling itself the Sword of Iran which we believe has the capacity for terrorist attacks within the continental United States. Information coming to light indicates they may well have been behind the attack on Air Force One.”

Stearman muttered an oath under his breath before turning to those assembled in the conference room and the camera pickup transmitting his image to the secure locations.

“Very well.” His voice carried none of the earlier petulance but there was certainly a note of nervousness as he made his decision. “I will be returning to Washington, but until further notice both secure locations are to remain staffed and I want the Defence Posture raised. The United Nations are to be petitioned over the acts of Iran and her leadership and we, ladies and gentlemen,” there was a decisive pause, “are going to find out just why we were blindsided by this.”

Bravo thought Carmel admiringly. Stearman had actually followed a suggested line of questions supplied by Packard and himself, but he had done it in such a way that not one of those watching would have suspected. Let’s hope this is his turning point, because if Maddy can’t retake her position he might be the only one to stand between the free world and nuclear devastation.
 
Chapter 8 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter
8 (cont)



GOVERNMENT SECURE BUNKER
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1232 IST (1032 UTC)


In the seven hours since the detonation of the nuclear weapon high above Jerusalem, Amit Cohen had presided over organised chaos. In the secure bunker itself, the only effect that the Deputy Prime Minister had noticed was a brief flickering of the overhead lighting before it died. His fervent prayer that he wouldn’t be immediately incinerated seemed to have been answered, but after that it seemed that God had turned a deaf ear on his prayers as the centre's electronic systems winked out.

He knew that Ronit Shapira had been making her way here by Blackhawk helicopter when the nuclear weapon detonated and had been almost thirty minutes away when they lost contact. Perhaps more critically, that loss of contact had extended to the world beyond the bunker walls.

In the briefing he had been given some two hours after the initial attack, it had been confirmed that a nuclear weapon had indeed detonated, not on Israel but far above it. A scientist had explained the results of the EMP and it seemed that despite the secure bunker’s protection, the pulse had destroyed its ability to transmit or receive any communication. Vehicles in its underground garage had felt the effects as well rendering them unusable.

Troops had been sent topside and confirmed that there was no immediate radiation hazard, the majority of the radioactive danger having been absorbed by the thin protective shell of the earth’s atmosphere. Had the explosion occurred at ground level, the story would have been much different. Detritus hurled into the air by the detonation would have been irradiated and borne on the prevailing wind contaminating wherever it fell back to earth.

With a security perimeter set up around the isolated bunker, the doors had been sealed once more to maintain a comfortable temperature below the ground. It wasn’t long however before the air began to become stuffy and all the vents and outer doors had been reopened to at least allow a flow of breathable air.

The temperature was now rising though, and they were still blind and deaf to the world around them.

“Deputy Prime Minister?”

Cohen was startled from his thoughts by one of his aides. Decorum had been one of the first casualties of the attack and the young woman was now wearing a t-shirt and shorts provided by the military rather than the smart dress of a junior politician. He had the feeling that she made the impromptu uniform look much better than he currently did.

“Yes Miriam?”

“Lieutenant General Mayer is here to see you.”

Cohen nodded with a weak smile. “Send him in please Miriam.”

‘In’ was a somewhat subjective term because Cohen’s ‘office’ was merely a curtained off area of the main command centre, the smaller offices already proving too warm to work in. When the curtain parted however, it revealed a tall and well tanned man whose uniform seemed to be prevailing against the wilting effects of the heat.

“General Mayer.” Cohen stood and offered his hand to the decorated officer who was head of Israel’s Defence Forces. “Hopefully some news?”

“Not as yet Deputy Prime Minister, but I’d like to make a couple of suggestions?”

Cohen nodded for the soldier to continue. It seemed to him that any action was better than nothing.

“I’ve had teams out on the surface and we’ve managed to corral some horses. I’d like to dispatch reconnaissance parties out with your permission. Certainly to the South West.” That, Cohen knew, had been the direction that the Prime Minister had been approaching from when they had lost contact and nodded his approval. “Secondly, I’d like to suggest that we transfer operations to the hangar area. With the equipment here being down anyway, at least it will be more comfortable there with the outer doors open.”

“Do you believe we are safe from attack then General?”

Mayer shook his head, the first beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead.

“Not at all Sir but we have no way of predicting any possible attack and limited means of air defence even if it did come. My instincts though are that it will not happen because I believe it would have been attempted by now.”

Cohen considered the report and suggestion and with a less than fond appraisal of the dismal surroundings acceded.

“One final thing Deputy Prime Minister.” Mayer seemed to struggle with the words for a moment before sighing. “You are currently the highest ranking level of government and should it prove that our search for President Shapira is unsuccessful then we should be planning on a way to return you to Jerusalem.”

Cohen was grateful that Mayer had refrained from stating the thought that had been uppermost in almost everybody’s mind, that Ronit Shapira may already be dead.

“I understand General, but one thing at a time. Let’s get both your suggestions underway and make a decision when the troops return.”

Mayer hesitated for a moment then saluted. “Understood Sir. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Absolutely General, and wish your men good luck.”

As Mayer left, Cohen believed that luck was the one thing a beneficent deity could give them today, but he wouldn’t hold his breath.


CVN78 USS GERALD R FORD
NORTH ATLANTIC
EN ROUTE TO NORFOLK NAVAL STATION
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0713 EST (1213 UTC)


Stacey Kyle at least felt a little more human now. With a warm meal inside her and a US Navy tracksuit replacing her cold wet clothes, she’d found a quiet corner to begin updating her data slate. The Master at Arms had satisfied himself that the slate was a journalistic tool but had taken a copy of its internal memory for security purposes on the understanding that the material was copyrighted.

“I don’t have the right contacts to be a reporter Ma’am,” he’d grinned. “I’ll make sure it’s secure and if it isn’t needed for the investigation it will be destroyed.” Realising that he was merely doing his job, she had relented.

Kyle had wanted to get every thought, every sight and sound down on to the slate while it was fresh in her mind, even while she had been floating cold and miserable in the Atlantic. It was certainly a story that would make her name in the media world. It was just a shame that Vince hadn’t been in a position to get some footage on the aircraft but his equipment had been stowed.

Even now, some nine hours after the forced landing, Kyle was having trouble believing what she herself had written, and the story wasn’t over yet. The last she had seen of President Everett was as she was hurriedly carried to the huge vessel’s medical centre. Whispers among Air Force One’s crew had confirmed her suspicions that the President was in a bad way. Not that she would include suspicions and whispers in the final draft of course.

**********

One deck below in the state of the art medical centre Commander Scott Osbourne, the Ford’s Senior Medical Officer, stole a glance across the ward to where Madeline Everett lay. He’d done all he could for now to make her comfortable and until the scans had been analyzed, he would leave her sedated.

There were indications of minor internal injuries but his primary concern was the contusion and swelling at the back of her head which is why they had hurriedly carried out an MRI, or magnetic resonance imaging, scan. Such imaging of the head was a non-invasive method to create detailed pictures of the brain and surrounding nerve tissues and the scans had been uploaded immediately to Bethesda.

He now waited for the radioneurologists there to call back confirming the next steps. With the possibility that it could involve operating, he had a team already on standby.

The Secret Service agent who had accompanied the President hadn’t even broken his vigil while being treated for his own injuries despite the comforting presence of armed naval security officers. He now sat with his arm in a sling by her bedside occasionally sipping from the mug of coffee he held in his good hand. Special Agent Tony Harmon was a dedicated man it seemed.

Osbourne returned to the reports he had been completing on the health of the recovered survivors and it was moments later that the comms centre advised him of an incoming call from Bethesda in Maryland. As it transpired, it wasn’t the call he’d been expecting.
 
My sincere apologies to all the kind crew who have been following the Angel series for the lack of updates. :weep:

Health issues continue to slow me down but rest assured, the story will NOT be abandoned! There's too much still to reveal and the Dominion war approaches much too quickly! :eek:

Bear with me? :techman:
 
Phenomenal work, and the tension keeps ratcheting up. I'll be eagerly awaiting more, and I hope your health situation improves soon. :)
 
Chapter 9

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter 9



USS ANGEL
EN-ROUTE TO ARGOLIS SECTOR
UFP SPACE
September 17th 2371 – 0342 FST

With an ETA in the Argolis sector some three hours away, the routine of the bridge had reverted to its normal Gamma shift pattern. The gentle murmurs of electronic equipment combined with the subdued ship’s lighting could be quite soporific at times and Metcalfe was taking the chance to update and refine his own logs of the recent jump forward in time as a way of postponing the post mission come down.

Around the bridge, others were recalibrating sensors and instruments at their consoles. The temporal shift shouldn’t have affected many of the systems at all, but it was such a rare occurrence that a manual check that backed up the computer had been ordered shipwide.

Engineering had received one or two calls referring to comms or computer equipment that was refusing to synch with Starfleet’s standard data pulses but beyond that everything seemed to be in working order.

Ottesen, at tactical, was re-running a level five diagnostic on sensors when the previous one had failed to clear an irritating glitch. Sensor ghosts were not uncommon and could be caused by many things from poorly attuned sensors to sub-space phenomena. Having finally satisfied himself that none of the obvious causes related to the problem he turned to the command seat.

“Commander, do you have a moment please?”

Metcalfe stood, shrugging the knots out of his shoulders and stepped around to tactical.

“Problem Mr Ottesen?”

“I’m not certain Sir. Here,” he tapped his console, “it looks like a sensor ghost but I’ve run two level fives and I can’t get it to clear.”

Metcalfe studied the intermittent return carefully. “None of the usual suspects are likely to be causing it?”

“No Sir. No subspace phenomena, no reported real space inversions.”

“How long has it been with us?”

“Since we reverted to real time Sir. Constant distance, intermittent returns, manoeuvres with us.”

Metcalfe was an experienced officer with twelve years bridge time under his belt, but he was about to make one of the worst command decisions of his career.

“Report it to engineering Mr Ottesen. Monitor it and we’ll ask for a level three if it doesn’t clear by the time we arrive in the Argolis sector.”

Ottesen nodded with an “Aye Sir,” before tagging the sensor ghost as an unclarified return and moving on with his systems analysis.


CVN78 USS GERALD R FORD
APPROACHING NORFOLK NAVAL STATION
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 0753 EST (1253 UTC)

Osbourne had been surprised when, rather than an immediate medical action report for the President, he had instead been prompted to enter the overcrowded ship’s mortuary in search of one particular corpse. Due to the number of bodies recovered by both the crew of the Vladimir Monomakh and the Ford’s own Seahawks at the site of the first crash, space had been at a premium in the large but finite compartment. With as much decorum as the situation allowed, some bodies had had to be placed two to a drawer in the chilled environment and Osbourne had been forced to enlist the aid of several corpsmen to remove the one he needed.

The call which had sent him on this mission had come from the FBI at Bethesda and their interest lay with the body of the civilian airliner’s captain. An Agent Baxter had received Departmental approval for a preliminary post mortem on the body which had been notified as recovered. Normally, the gruesome but necessary task would only have been performed once the bodies had been returned to shore.

So it was that Osbourne found himself now taking blood samples from the shattered body they had recovered from the sea. His initial notes consisted of a physical description of the man, the visual observation of external injuries and the actions he was taking to satisfy the requirements stipulated by the FBI.

The blood samples had been dispatched to the onboard lab for examination although the FBI had not stated precisely what they may be looking for. Osbourne was reasonably certain that they weren’t sure themselves and had ordered a full spectrum analysis to the limits of the lab’s capabilities.

Before commencing an internal examination, he decided that a scan of both the dead captain’s chest and brain would be in order. If the FBI were looking for reasons why the aircraft had plummeted seemingly out of control into the Atlantic, a search for clues pointing towards a myocardial infarction or perhaps an ischaemic stroke would be a good starting point and if he could identify that without invasive examination, it would preserve the evidence.

However, as he and a medical technician prepared the man’s body for the scan, Osbourne’s subconscious couldn’t help but play devil’s advocate. Even if such an event had taken place, surely the co-pilot would have been in a position to take control of the aircraft? Having not been privy to the debrief of Air Force One’s flight crew he was unaware of the attempted mid-air collision and subsequent explosion.

Sadly much of the evidence that would tell the true story now lay at the bottom of the Atlantic and Osbourne’s examination of the Captain might prove to provide the only clues they may have unless the flight recorders could be retrieved.

They were roughly thirty minutes into the procedure when a medic tapped on the door.

“Commander, the President is awake.”

Osbourne turned in surprise having believed that the sedation he’d given the President would be enough to provide her rest for at least another couple of hours.

“On my way.” He turned to the radiologist operating the MRI scanner. “Bates, advise me when the scan’s complete.”

Swiftly making his way back to the darkened ward, he was surprised to see Madeline Everett in deep conversation with her Secret Service detail. Noticing Osbourne’s arrival out of the corner of her eye, she reached out and squeezed Agent Harmon’s hand.

Smiling, Harmon stood and nodded to Osbourne as he left the room.

“Agent Harmon certainly takes his job seriously Madam President,” he smiled holding out his hand. “Commander Scott Osbourne Ma’am, the Ford’s Senior Medical Officer.”

She winced slightly as she took his hand. “My thanks to you and your staff Commander. Agent Harmon says I’ve been out for quite some while.”

“Yes Ma’am but its good to have you back with us. I need to point out though that as of the moment you still have injuries that need to be treated.”

Madeline laid her head back on the pillow and a look of worry crossed her face. “Would any of those injuries account for not being able to feel anything below my waist Commander?”

Osbourne’s shocked expression was all the answer she needed.


GOVERNMENT SECURE BUNKER
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1457 IST (1257 UTC)

With the immediate threat of fallout and a follow up attack fading rapidly, the large doors allowing access to the underground hangar had been opened wide and a dry desert breeze stirred the air in the bunker enough to give an illusion of coolness.

Engineers were busily checking the two helicopters and assorted ground vehicles in the hangar in the hope that any of them could be made serviceable but so far the news had not been encouraging.

Amit Cohen had spent the time since the dispatch of the reconnaissance party organising his group of government representatives as best he could. The real problem was that without communications of any sort, there was little they could do.

As he sipped at the tepid bottle of water he’d been given, he watched as a crate of vehicle spares was manhandled out on to the hangar floor. It had been wheeled up four levels of ramps from reserves held deep within the bowels of the command bunker and the hope was that the pulse would not have reached deep enough to affect them.

“Mr Vice President?”

The hoarse voice of General Mayer disturbed his observations and he turned to see that he wore an expression of grief. He came to attention and saluted, signifying exactly what he was about to report.

“Sir it is my sad duty to report that the southern reconnaissance party has just discovered the crash site of the government evacuation helicopter some twenty miles south of the bunker.” His eyes never wavered from Cohen’s as he said, “There were no survivors Sir.”

Cohen slumped back against the table. Irrespective of what that meant to the continuation of government and his leading role in it, Cohen had just lost a friend and mentor of many years.

“General, could you…give me a moment please.”

Mayer discretely withdrew and despite the heat, Cohen felt a chill of apprehension wash over him. Ronit had always been the guiding light of the government. Her ability to communicate with other world leaders had seen progression in Middle Eastern peace negotiations that had raised the world’s hopes that a final cessation of hostilities in the region could be achieved.

Bridges were starting to be rebuilt after decades and suddenly with her death, that process became his responsibility. But how could he be expected to maintain the impetus she had created when he had to piece together the shattered remnants of his own nation as well?

He physically shook himself. That was the future. Right now he didn’t even know what had happened beyond the limited range of the reconnaissance party and until he could divine that, there was little point tilting at windmills.

“General Mayer?” He turned to watch the immaculate soldier approach him.

“Sir?”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you would organise for all the staff to gather in the hangar at 1600. I believe we have much to undertake.”

Mayer snapped a parade ground salute, gratified that Cohen had not fallen prey to despair at the news.

For his part, Cohen hoped Mayer’s confidence in him would be justified.
 
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