Tom Avitabile - The Hammer of God

Realizing that something else had to be going on here, the commander keyed his tactical radio. “Oasis this is Foxtrot Alpha , inbound. Possible chemical or bio contamination. Men nauseous and vomiting. Request bio-hazard and antibiotics.”

The Squad commander then checked all of his men on the copter. He heard Foxtrot Bravo report three men vomiting on it. He broke out the antibiotics and ordered all of his men to dose themselves. Retracing their movements, he tried to figure out what these men had been exposed to.

Hiccock’s phone rang. “William, get on SCIAD now!” the voice on the other end said.

Hiccock scanned his eye and opened the network from his desktop. The voice on the phone was Quan Li, a research scientist out of Cal Tech on assignment in Diego Garcia. He was stationed at a listening station for Pave Paw West, a launch detection satellite in geo-synchronous orbit over the Indian Ocean. He was an Element member of SCIAD because he had led the way on critical mass research in heavy water reactors and held the highest clearance.

To: n

From: #E: Li

Re: Huge spike in Egyptian desert.

17:32 GMT Sensor readings of › 10.5 and ‹ 14.2 rads/meter recorded from source at 34 lat 134 long….

That’s all Hiccock had to read. He printed the document, picked up the phone, and pressed “POTUS.” But the President of the United States was not behind his desk. The switchboard picked up.

“Yes, Doctor Hiccock.”

“Chief of Staff, please.”

“Hold on.”

“Reynolds.”

“Ray, it’s Bill. I got something hot here and I need to inform the president.”

“Come down.”

Bill was out the door grabbing the printout on the way. He ran to the elevator and agents surrounded him.

“I need to get to the boss and Ray immediately.”

Two agents went onto the elevator with him and spoke to the agent on station near the President. Receiving an affirmative, they stepped out of the way when the elevator opened in the basement.

“We are at the end of a top secret mission here, Bill. Where’s the fire?” Reynolds asked.

“Sir, in the desert of Egypt about 135 miles west of Cairo.”

“General, Ray, I am clearing Hiccock for this operation,” the President said. “Ray, brief him.”

When Ray finished filling in Bill, Bill got to tell him what he knew.

The President was shocked, “Are you sure?”

“Li is not a reckless man. And I think, in short order, other sources will start chiming in. Meanwhile, General, can you verify that these coordinates are the same as your target?” Hiccock handed the printout to the Chairman.

“What do we do?” the President asked.

“Turn the copters around.” Hiccock said. “You have to get someone in there to control the situation.”

“But they are not prepared for this!” the General protested.

“Sir, with all due respect, those men have already been exposed. They are the only ones who can get there now and report back.”

“You’re saying they are already dead,” the General said.

“Some, not all, may be badly irradiated. But they might even be able to stop this thing from getting out of hand.”

“Do it!” the President said.

“Captain, order Foxtrots Alpha and Bravo back to target alpha!” the Chairman ordered.

“They’ll need refueling to get back, sir,” the Captain said.

“Dispatch refueling ships and get me the Sultan Air Base commander on the double!” the Chairman ordered.

The President turned to Hiccock, “I hope you are wrong, Bill.”

“I hope you are right, Sir.”

“Do what?” the squad commander yelled back over the interphone to the pilot who had received his orders and was already turning back. “Don’t they know that we have sick men here? And besides, that LZ is going to be crawling by now. What are we supposed to do if we engage bad guys?”

Here’s what never happens — some field grade commander in the thick of it gets a secure call from the Commander-in-Chief. So both squad chiefs were shocked to hear over their tac radios, “Gentlemen this is the President. I am joined here by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. What I am about to ask you to do is not easy for me. That’s why I had to have you hear it directly from me. During your raid, a large amount of radiation was released from the facility you stormed. This was significant and unprecedented. My staff tells me that many of you may already show symptoms of radiation poisoning. Here’s the tough part: we don’t know what could cause this. But trust me; there are no comforting answers to the question. You are the only force within hours of the target. You have to ascertain what the source of the radiation is, then secure the area until reinforcements arrive. I know what I am asking you men to do. All I can tell you is that America, and possibly the entire planet, is depending on you. I know you will not fail us. God speed, men.”

The President nodded to the Captain and the communications officer killed the circuit. He remained still, looking at the phone he’d hung up. Finally he spoke.

“Ten minutes ago I was putting them all up for a medal. Now I am sending them to their deaths. Where do we find men like this?”

“Sir, you did the only thing you could do given these extraordinary circumstances,” The CJCS said.

“Oh God, I just sent Greely back in as well!” Mitchell shook off the human emotion and went back to being the Commander in Chief. “Okay, I want maximum effort here. Everything we have that can help these guys deal with whatever this nuclear thing could be should be moving 10 seconds ago! Ray, get whoever we need here right now. Bill, take a seat; you started this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rules of engagement are, F-E,” the commander said as the MH-60 Black Hawk hurled through the night retracing its earlier route, only this time with all deliberate speed and not concerned about alerting the enemy. The big, stinking, glowing hole in the desert floor had already done that. Although there was no actual rule of engagement designated, Frank/Eddie, the commander’s troops knew that “Fuck Everybody” meant the mission at all costs, no other concerns or distractions. He went over to the three equipment lockers lashed to the sides of the cabin. Each had a large letter on its top: N, B, and C. The C was where he had gotten the antibiotic syringes. Now he opened the N. Of the three, he always expected to someday use the Chemical or, even worse, the Biological one. But somehow, the Nuclear locker was just not a concept he could comfortably grasp. Not that that mattered one bit. He and his men had extensive training and their procedures for each were exemplary. Any of them would be an equally effective fighting unit in either an N, B, or C combat environment.

First, he distributed radiation pills and ordered everyone to take a dose and a half. Somebody once described taking a pill for radiation is like taking an aspirin for a head-on car crash. He then pulled out five nuke suits, tape, re-breathers, and a Geiger counter. He left the radiation dosimeter monitor badges in the trunk because he probably had enough residual on him to taint them already. He ordered the guys in the best shape, including Bridgestone and Ross who, because they weren’t in the refinery, were among the ones not vomiting — to suit up. The others aided the men and sealed their suits with tape at the sleeves, cuffs, and helmet collar. Each man was also draped with ammo belts and machine guns fitted into their gloved hands.

“Okay boys, this is certainly no fucking drill. We stumbled on something back there and it’s hot. You men in the suits will go in, locate, identify, and handle the merchandise. The rest of us will cover and support. Okay, I want a by-the-numbers radio check.