David Golemon - Ancients

As the colonel looked at his scope, he counted fifty-plus Chinese MIG 31s and an equal number of North Korean aircraft ready to cross into South Korea.

"This is going to be messy," he said to himself.

The spearhead and lead armored element of the People's Army opened fire from a ridge overlooking Qua Shan village. There were no reports of enemy emplacements, but the overzealous general left in charge was taking no chances. He thought that he might as well level the village while he had the chance, with their air power soon to arrive.

"We have incoming aircraft from the west, General; they are squawking People's Republic Air Force."

The general looked down from his armored personnel carrier and nodded at his courier.

"Good. Have ground control direct them to the first American defense line. Inform them I will lay green smoke."

"Yes, sir."

It happened so suddenly that the American colonel thought that his air-search radar was not operating properly. The entire Chinese force turned away and started flying northward, away from South Korea. He watched to make sure it was not a trick. When he saw the MIGs continue northward, he smiled.

He was further shocked when his radio came to life on the frequency that was supposed to be secure: "American flight commander to the south, the People's Republic of China apologizes for the closeness our training flight came to South Korean airspace. We are returning to base at this time."

"All elements of Crusader are to attack. I repeat, attack!"

The first thirty-five F-15 Strike Eagles banked hard and dived for the earth.

The North Korean general turned in his turret and smiled. Now the Americans would feel the full force of the Great Leader's might. He looked through his glasses and froze. American F-15s were screaming toward his positions unopposed.

"General, the Chinese have left the area and our own air support has been ordered to stand down. The Americans are attacking up and down the line. U.S. carrier aircraft are hitting our artillery positions on our side of the border. Pyongyang is ordering a general retreat!"

To augment the disastrous report, five T-80 tanks exploded only a thousand yards in front of his command vehicle. As he ducked, he saw the American fighters pull up after their attack. There were more explosions as more tanks met the same fate. The Americans had acted swiftly and caught them off guard.

"This is madness," he screamed as he saw antipersonnel cluster munitions fly into the back of his lines where his infantry had been mobilizing for the assault.

As the general watched, the spearhead that had been rolling through unblemished just five minutes before lay in a smoking ruin all around him.

Things were moving too fast for Niles to keep up. One by one, the icons marking the forward advance of the North Korean assault slowly started to disappear from the map.

"Mr. President, it's been confirmed: the Chinese have exited north of the thirty-eighth parallel. They are returning to Chinese airspace!"

"I guess they decided we weren't lying after all!"

Compton heard the relief in the president's voice, and he himself felt like jumping up and whooping, as many of the generals and admirals were doing.

"American and Japanese air strikes are heavily damaging all forward units in the south. The Second ID is moving unopposed into the DMZ. It has been confirmed that Kim Jong Il ordered his troops north of the thirty-eighth parallel."

"Sir, we have a message from the Russian president; he's asking if they could render assistance to our marine force on Crete," the national security Adviser read from a note. "Also, the Chinese ambassador just issued a statement saying that the People's Republic has no intention of aiding this lawless act of aggression by Kim Jong Il and the People's Army, and is insisting that his army stand down in this time of world crisis."

The president sat hard into his chair and looked at Niles. "It seems your words meant something to them, Niles."

"No, Mr. President, the images of kids dying on Crete did the convincing. The Russians and the Chinese do not like to see civilians dying."

"Still, old boy, you may have saved our collective asses."

Niles stood and walked over to the president's side of the conference table and knelt beside his chair.

"Mr. President, this is just a stay, not a pardon. If we don't stop the Coalition from using the Wave against these people, they're not going to give a damn who's guilty or innocent. They now know their main enemy is on Crete and they will destroy it with nuclear weapons if they have to. We would do the same if we were losing cities. Our people beneath Crete still have to stop the Coalition from attacking their countries."

"But now that the Coalition knows they are found out, why would they continue?"

"The Coalition has survived through worse many times. They will attack and then disappear, only to resurface with new identities and the same hidden wealth, and they will still win by offering financial assistance to the countries that are devastated. They have been planning this thing since the end of World War Two."

The president stood among the gathered men and women of the Security Council, who were still smiling from ear to ear. Then he looked at the threat board; down at the bottom sat the small island of Crete.

"Niles, I've heard about his prowess in the field, but tell me again how good your Colonel Collins really is."

It had taken far longer to get men and equipment through the small access tunnel, or Ratzville, as the men were calling it, than they had originally thought. A full fifty minutes had been wasted as they struggled through the filthy tunnel. When they finally made it out, the lead SEAL unit reported that the sewer shaft was clear for at least two miles.

"Ryan!" Jack called over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir?"

"The marines having any luck with the radios yet?"

"Negative. We can't even get the local Atlantis AM station," he joked, but stopped smiling when the marines around him looked on with sour faces. "No, nothing, Colonel."

Jack looked at his watch. Almost a full hour and a half since Morning Thunder had kicked off.

"Jack, are you feeling that?" Sarah asked. "The Coalition has started the Wave."

Collins didn't say anything; he knew that she was right. He was feeling it in his inner ear, just as Sarah had said he would.

"Look, when this thing starts, you watch your ass. I don't want a dead girl--" Jack caught himself. "Just watch your butt, Lieutenant," he said quickly and then walked off.

"What does the colonel have to say?" Mendenhall asked, walking up to Sarah.

"Nothing important, I guess."

Tomlinson was sitting in the now well-lit Empirium Chamber. The engineers had shored up what they could and roped off the worst areas. He had watched the men working without comment until his eyes had settled on something jutting from a large slab of marble. He had been looking at it for well over thirty minutes, mesmerized by the sight of the skeletal arm and hand. There was a mold-covered bronze knife clutched in the blackened fingers, the bones still curled around the hilt. He was content just to look and wonder who the person had been.

"Sir, we are ready. Power is at one hundred percent and we have full continuity in the power lines to the Black Sea and Lake Shiolin."

Tomlinson, without looking up from the hand and knife, smiled. "You forgot the Long Island Sound, Professor; is that line also active?"

"Yes, sir. The amplification modules are placed one mile from the Davidson fault line and thirty-three miles from the continental plate."