Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or mentioned in this draft, and am most certainly not making any profit off of it.
Chapter 9
The battle was starting to take a turn for the better after the advisor arrived. It was amazing what happened when you got a person who knew what they were doing in command.
"Firing control, target sector five-two-three mark zero-one-four. 15th armored division, engage the mechanized units to the northwest." Seymour had done in forty-five minutes what had taken Hawke and Henson three days to accomplish. His knowledge of the unit's weak points definitely had an impact. "261st infantry, target the light recons front grill. The bullets will sever the various hoses and lines running in the main engine, rendering them useless. 17th artillery division, fire on the heavy armor divisions to the west."
The battle was going smoothly, when a bomber was sighted over the hills at the top of the beach. This made Hawke and the admiral nervous.
"Where did he come from? I don't recall any airfields in this sector," the admiral said. "Do they have any underground airports? Is that a seaplane?" The craft's droning engines could be heard over the fanfare of the battle on the shores.
"No, he has flown in from one of Sturm's monitor stations," Seymour said. "The nearest one with an airfield is about one hundred twenty kilometers away. He has been in quite a hurry. Listen to the tone of the engine: that is the sound of an engine that has been running hard for at least an hour."
"Its origins are irrelevant" Hawke said. "We do not have the means to destroy it. What do you suggest?" he asked the admiral.
The advisor turned to look at him. "We have the means to destroy it."
The admiral and field marshal both looked at him and said in unison, "What did you say?"
"If we have a supersonic rifle, then we have the means to destroy it. Captain, would you send someone to my quarters? I should have an M1 Garand in there. Please have someone bring it to me." He turned to explain to the other commanders as the captain had sent an officer to retrieve the rifle.
"That particular bomber model is a B-48 Hell Bat, or also known as the 'Wings of the Abyss' model. The cockpit, bomb bays, and engines are encased in armored plating making any conventional attack on any vital systems ineffective. However, the plane does suffer from one weakness. The fuel tanks are built into the aft fuselage; an area with only minimal enforcement."
"You're going to target the fuel tanks?" Hawke interrupted. "I am sorry to tell you this, but that won't do any good. Fuel tanks that explode when shot are the things of action movies. Real bullets don't spark when they hit metal."
"You are correct," Seymour conceded. "However, that was not my plan. If you notice, the engines are located on the wings. Common sense should dictate that there has to be some means of getting the fuel from the aft fuselage to the engines on the wings. Now the Wings of the Abyss have one prime weakness: the wings are not reinforced. A well placed shot can fly right through them. The fuel lines have to run through the wings in order to get to the engines. If I can sever one of the lines approx. three decimeters from the engine on either wing, the fuel will bypass the injectors and flow directly into the jet engine. The fuel will ignite and the fire will flow back through the lines into the tanks, igniting the entire fuel reservoirs. This will result in a magnificent and satisfying explosion."
An officer entered the command deck sporting a finely crafted Garand rifle. Seymour took the rifle and went out a side door that led to a balcony just outside the command deck's large windows overlooking the ship's bow. He held the rifle to his shoulder and took careful aim. A single shot rang out, then… nothing. He stepped back into the bridge and waited.
"You missed," the admiral said.
"Give it time."
"But…" The admiral was interrupted by a loud explosion. The entire back half of the plane was blown completely off and the bomber began to spiral back towards the ground.
"Your lack of faith caused you to miss a truly satisfying sight," the advisor said to the admiral. "One thing you should both know," he said staring them down with the ever so intimidating glare of the sunglasses, "is that I never make mistakes. Ever."
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Jess passed through the large double doors that led to the older part of the Headquarters. This part of the building was mainly a tourist attraction and served historical purposes mainly. However, parts of the building were not included in the tours and were used as storage and archives. She remembered these halls well: this was where she had started her career. It had been a long time since those days, and she welcomed the nostalgia that came with the change of scenery. She couldn't believe that she had never been back here since the new offices were completed; some of her best memories were in these halls. She went from hallway to hallway until she found the right one: Corridor Twelve. This was where the offices of the finest commanders in Green Earth were located a long time ago. She went through the double doors and started down the hallway, scanning for the nameplate of her ex C.O. She was having trouble remembering the location seeing as the admiral, err, Sir James always seemed to be annoyed by visitors when in his office or quarters. Because of this, she never really came back here. In fact, she rarely even saw him. He wasn't one to meet with people too low on the chain of command. It wasn't because he was snobby and considered it condescending; it was because he was always busy. No one other than the people who served under him knew this, but he spent more time saving other officers from humiliating defeats than he did maintaining his own forces. She came up to the room she was looking for: SEYMOUR, ADM. JAMES M. She opened the door and walked into an office that literally took her breath away. The walls were decorated with racks and racks of finely crafted guns. Ruger, Springfield, and Colt firearms lined the walls. I didn't know he was a gun enthusiast. What else do I not now about my own C.O.? She walked over to his solid oak roll-top desk and looked at the computer. Geez, what an antique. I wonder if it will even start up. She hit the power button and the computer began to boot up. After a few minutes, a snail's pace compared to her computer, the main login screen came up; it required a user name and a password. Now she knew that there was very delicate information on the computer, and Adm. Seymour was a very cunning man when it came to concealing information, so she suspected that trying to access his computer could quickly become personal. However, she knew that her C.O. was also guilty of using the names of his subordinates as passwords to various files and archives that he had; they were probably easy to remember, and less likely for someone to suspect than the names of relatives or personal affiliates…or any women that may have been in his life. Now that was an interesting topic for discussion: the thought of him being in love with someone. She had always heard her superiors talking about his complete and total lack of anything resembling emotion. She suspected that the username would be his. Now came the tough part. She would have to go through every commander's name that served under him. Hoping to find a roster, she opened the center drawer. A large Colt Anaconda .44 Magnum revolver greeted her. What's this cannon doing in here? She picked it up and looked it over. On the wooden handle, there was a coat of arms emblem. The name on it was James. He has coat of arms? His family must have a distinguished history. Under the stainless steel magnum was a brown leather-bound note book. She opened it up and began to read the first entry.
"I was given my first assignment as Admiral today. I have been looking forward to commanding forces to victory. My flagship is nothing short of exemplary. It is the epitome of firepower and class. Never has art and mechanics merged to conceive such a tool of destruction and yet make it so magnificent. I should know, seeing as I designed her. My lovely Raven, together we shall bring respect and honor to Green Earth. We shall rule the waves as Richard rules the skies. Together, there is nothing that we cannot accomplish; no goal unachievable. You complete me as I complete you. I cannot imagine undertaking this responsibility without you by my side. You and I shall become inseparable. Together, we will create a new era; one which the world will never forget. My beautiful Raven, tomorrow we shall meet and forever be as one."
Jess looked up from her reading. Wow, he's quite the romantic. Who is this Raven? She must have been quite a woman to inspire such feeling from the cold calculating C.O. I heard about. Wait, what's this on the bottom of the page? Jess looked at the writing on the bottom of the page and read it out loud.
"When everyone is present, all will be revealed."
What the hell does that mean? It sounds like something out of Biohazard. Was he referring to a mission briefing? A family meeting? A officer conference? B this time, the sun was beginning to sink low in horizon. The room was beginning to become dark, so she turned on a light… and realized that another one of the guns hanging on the wall had the same coat of arms. Actually, they all seemed to be sporting the same emblem. They all had different names on them: Alexia, Alfred, George, Alexander; the list went on. "When everyone is present…" Jess thought out loud, "Of course!" She quickly began to look for an empty space on any of the walls, but couldn't see any. Then turned her attention to the desk…and noticed an empty rack sitting on the wall above it. "Aha. So simple, yet so clever." She reached up and placed the magnum in its space. The rack sagged from the weight of the gun, and a panel on the side of the desk opened. When did he have the time build this? I know he used to design weapons and defense systems, but did he moonlight as a funhouse architect as well? The open panel revealed not only a piece of paper with the username and passwords, but also a page of his journal that was torn out. Now we're getting somewhere. She sat down at the desk and began to type in the needed information.
USERNAME: MAGNUM
PASSWORD: RAVEN
INVALID PASSWORD
"What?! But I had to solve a crazy puzzle to get that!" Jess said, her patience wearing thin. She looked at the paper again and noticed something on the back. It was…her name.
PASSWORD: JESS
EFFORTING…
AUTHENTICATING…
ACCESS APPROVED! WELCOME JAMES.
Jess was thinking about why he had chosen her name as a password. His security system was pretty innovative; a double password system. You enter the first password and it denies it, but you have to enter the first one in order for it to accept the other. A person could try all day to find the right password and never get it, because it resets itself if the first password is incorrect. She looked at the desktop and found an icon labeled LOGBOOK. She clicked on it and it pulled up not only reports from Seymour himself, but video footage, and pictures. Sonja would eat this stuff up. She'll probably lock herself in her room for a month in order to go through this information. There was one picture with him standing on the very front of the bow of a battleship, looking out into open sea. He was dressed in his admiral uniform with an overcoat to protect him from the brisk sea breeze. And, of course, there were his signature sunglasses. Why are you wearing those? It doesn't even look dark outside in the picture! She took out a disk and inserted it into the computer and began to load the entire logbook onto the disk. After she had done this, she put the disk into her pocket and grabbed the journal entry that had been torn out of his notebook, the notebook, and a gun case, so that if someone asked her what she was doing, she would be able to say that she was retrieving something from his office for Eagle. As she grabbed the journal entry, she noticed the heading of the entry: Concerning my new tank commander Jess. She heard footsteps coming toward the office; probably a guard coming to see why the light was on and who was snooping around. Gathering all of the fruits of her labor and the gun case, she turned off the light and headed out the door.