He flew low, just
feet above the water’s surface. He wasn’t sure if their radar could pick him
up, but it wasn’t worth risking. Even though their surface to air defenses
posed no threat to him, it could slow him down; and right now, time was of the
essence. He stayed just under the speed of sound, not wanting to trigger the
high velocity speed sensors placed on buoys that bobbed intermittently on the
ocean's surface. Even still, the water split, rising in twin walls, and pulled
upward in the wake of his passing. He pitched his hearing towards his
objective, and could hear the increase in the pitch of the voices. The
tightening of the vocal cords, and their rapid-fire heartbeats told him that he
was running out of time. He would have to risk the attention of their defenses
if he was going to make it on time.
With little effort,
The First accelerated, blasting past the sound barrier and arching higher into
the air. The shoreline was in view, and again he accelerated, hoping that he
would be past whatever defenses they might have before they could lock onto
him. He heard the air raid sirens blast in the distance, triggering their
anti-aircraft weapons. The air around him lit up as tracer fire and flares
marked his location. He heard the hypersonic scream of air being split, and
felt the pressure wave ahead of the first artillery shell that struck him in
the chest. At least in the air he didn’t have to worry about controlling the
deflection of it, steering the debris so that it would not hit innocent
bystanders. Instead he just let the mortar hit him and explode harmlessly.
He instantly marked
the half buried turret that had fired on him, but rather than advance on it, he
spun in mid air, his hearing detecting the sounds of approaching jets. The
surface to air attack had been meant to keep him busy while the fighters
approached from behind, hoping to take him out unaware. He accelerated through
the air towards the first fighter, banking left at the last minute as the jet
rolled right. He glanced back to track which way it would come at him again,
when he realized that the second fighter had taken the opportunity to get a
lock on him from his right side and was firing. The atmosphere around him
crackled as twin barrel twenty-three millimeter cannons strafed him. Armor piercing,
three hundred and twenty gram rounds hit him at over three thousand rounds per
minute.
Despite himself, he
flinched as the shells bounced off his skin. He turned in the air and
accelerated away from the first jet. He listened for the roar of the turbines
as the plane accelerated to keep pace with him. He let the craft draw closer
and waited until it once again began to lock onto him. Before another barrage
of rounds could be unleashed on him, he turned in mid air to face the craft.
Flying backwards, he slowed his pace and let the jet fly into him. It was a
Jian-10 fighter; designed for air-to-air and air-to-ground fighting. But most
of all, it was designed for speed; a flattened silhouette, and extreme
aerodynamic profile gave it the ability to achieve supersonic speeds.
Unfortunately, the long, sleek nose cone ended in an antennae shaped projectile
that easily fit under The First’s powerful arms. As the second jet shot passed
them, it looked like The First had simply grabbed the one billion dollar fighter
in mid air; much like a rodeo cowboy would wrangle a steer to the ground.
Inertia caused the
plane to begin to crumple and tear itself apart as its forward thrust came to a
stop. He ripped the nose unit from the body of the now shattered craft, and
tore it into two pieces. He turned, spotting the now banking second jet just as
the wreckage became a giant fireball around him, and hurled one of the metallic
pieces at the circling jet. With the same fluid motion, he swung around and
hurled the second piece of the plane at the ground. One piece of shrapnel tore
through the second fighter plane, shearing through it like tissue paper. The
second hit the base turret with the force of an MX missile, tearing through
layers of concrete and steel to destroy the targeting system that ran the
ground to air weapons array that had first attacked him.
He sped on,
streaking towards his destination. Five miles, and barely seconds later, he
zeroed in on what appeared to be a desolate area of desert just outside of
large shantytown that was built at the base of a mountain. He dropped from the
sky feet first, his landing sending a tremor through the ramshackle constructs
that passed for houses. A few children that were kicking a ball in a nearby
field stopped to gawk at the imposing figure that fell from the sky.
The First had landed
straddling a hatch that had been spray painted the color of the ground around
it. Roughly five feet in diameter, there was a circular, iron wheel attached to
it that controlled the locking mechanism. He had spotted the imposing brown
tank that had rolled up to within fifty feet of the hidden entrance from the
air. It would present no threat to him, and he had intended to ignore it, but
he realized that while it posed no threat to him, the same could not be said
for the throng of children that were now gathering to stare in his direction.
He heard the rumbling of the big engines that powered the tank, and the
distinctive metal on metal grinding of the cannon swinging around to target
him.
The first shot was a
direct hit, striking him in his back as he bent to grab the wheel that was
bolted onto the latch. The explosion was deafening and he could hear the
children scream and begin to run in all directions. He grasped the top of the
latch with both hands and wrenched it free from the ground. He held the steel
lid in his hands as he turned to face the tank. As casually as one of the
children might toss a Frisbee, he threw it at the tank. The lid struck the
opening of the cannon, splitting it into pieces as it burrowed through the
front of the tank and drove the entire machine backwards and into the ground.
Just as the lid was
impacting the tank, The First was already deep within the underground
structure, the terror filled voices drawing him to the center of the hidden
construct. A two feet thick steel door crashed open under his fist and he
walked into the central control room. Ten sets of eyes stared at him, their
fear turning to awe.
“Where is it,” he
said in perfect Farsi.
No one moved, until
a single scientist stepped forward, his hand shaking as he pointed to a grey
and black metallic box, about four cubic feet in size.
“What is it,” The
First asked.
“It’s an RDD. A
Radiological Dispersal Device. A dirty bomb.” Still, none of the other
scientists in the room had spoken or moved. “When we realized what it was, that
it was armed, we brought it down here, but it won’t matter. From what we can
tell, the explosive device inside is only designed to propel the radioactive
isotopes inside into the air. The ventilation system in this control area will
automatically vent the contaminant outside into the atmosphere. It will―”
“Shut up you fool!”
One of the other scientist had found his voice and rushed over to the where
they stood looking at the bomb. “This is an agent of the Americans! We will be
put to death for even speaking to him―”
“I don’t care,” said
the first scientist. “We are dead anyway. When this thing explodes, everyone
within twenty-five miles will die a very slow and agonizing death! If he can
stop it―”
“I can’t,” said The
First. “How long before the detonation?”
The two scientists
looked at one another, before the second finally shook his head and moved away,
a look of sadness and acceptance flooding his face. He looked at his watch, and
laughed. “Just inside of one minute.”
The first scientist
swallowed hard and turned to The First. “It wasn’t supposed to be live. I don’t
know how it became armed―”
He was cut off as
the First stepped forward and picked the box up, and leaped skyward. He flew
straight up, blasting effortlessly through tons of concrete and steel that
separated the bunker from the outside. He powered through the earth and into
the open, accelerating on contact with the air. The sonic boom and scorched air
were all that marked his passing. In the blink of an eye he achieved escaper
velocity, and within the span of a couple of human heartbeats, he was at the
Earth’s upper atmosphere. There he paused his ascent, drawing back one heavily
muscled arm to throw the box as hard and as far as he could. It instantly
disappeared into the heavens, but he watched it until he saw the detonation,
far away from the earth, where the vacuum of space absorbed the radiation,
gently scattering it along the solar winds.
The First turned and
flew back towards Earth, gently altering his trajectory to take him back to the
United States, no longer concerned with the actions of a few madmen bent on
genocide. He was confident his latest display would give them something to
think about before they again tried perfecting their weapons on their own
people.
The underground
Bunker was quiet. The ten scientists that had been cowering in fear were all
dead. They had been lined up single file against the wall, and shot through the
left eye at point blank range.
A tall, older man,
with striking white hair stood in the center of the room. He cradled a laptop
in one outstretched arm that worked hard to download the data from the array of
sensors that were hidden throughout the complex. Two guards stood at attention
by the entry, eyes fixed on the thin figure in the room.
“Well that was a
mess,” came a voice over the Bluetooth earpiece the man wore in one ear. “Those
scientists were some of your brightest. Was it really necessary to waste such
talent?”
“They were more than
expendable,” he replied.
“Well, at least we
know the alien is working with the American government somehow. They are controlling
him. But other than that, we have nothing to show for six weeks of research and
development. Those isotopes were not cheap you know.”
Oh, I wouldn’t say
it was a failure,” said the old man. He smiled as he walked over to where the
dirty bomb had been sitting. He looked up at the hole made by The First as he
had flown out. Metal and rock shrapnel had rained down onto the spot where he
stood. He bent over and picked up a piece of razor sharp alloy. He lifted it
carefully and held it up the light. A single drop of blackish fluid was
contained on the tip of it. “I wouldn’t say it was a failure at all.”
