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Phase 15:The Wakanda affair
=SI=
Part 5
=SI=
Royal Palace
The Golden City
Wakanda
"None of this was supposed to happen! You need to explain yourself!" M'Baku roared. Behind him, his two guards looked particularly murderous.
M'Kathu looked up from the holo-display showing attrition rates and confirmed successful strikes. The former was already catastrophic, and the latter was far from enough to cripple the outside world properly.
"That is a conversation for us alone," M'Kathu grumbled. M'Baku dismissed his guards with a gesture, and the leader of the Border Tribe waited until he got a confirmation that the door behind them was sealed shut. "We gambled and lost," The old warrior glowered. "Spare me your fake outrage. You knew exactly what you were supporting when you backed us to remove T'Chaka. We always had only two realistic options. We would either be fully open to the outside world, something most of our people would only accept with a blade to their throat, and some not even then, or reverse the outsider's technological advancement. I went for what those fools demanded because it was the only plan within grasp that might work."
"Do you really believe that?" M'Baku sounded much calmer and genuinely curious now.
"We've seen the outsider's anti-air missiles in action. They are all but useless against the armor of our fighters. The few somewhat dangerous models exist in minimal numbers, and our pilots had orders to prioritize taking out ground defenses before pursuing their primary targets in the relevant regions."
"Then why do I hear that much of our air force is dead?"
"A third to a fourth by the time it's all over," M'Kathu corrected him. Ordering retreat would have warned our friends in the War Dogs and their backers, and we can't have that. As for the reason why? We underestimated the outsider's other weapons and overestimated the capabilities of our fighters. That has proven to be a lethal equation and not in our favor."
"Do you intent another coup so soon after the first?" M'Baku scoffed.
"We are now at war with the whole world, or at least the parts of it that matter. It is not a war we can win. However, we are in the middle of Africa, and our location shields us. After this campaign ends, we will conserve and rebuild our air force as much as possible. There will be months until the outsiders muster a force to come and conquer us. The War Dogs and their supporters should be gone by then, and I, as the commander of our military, will fall on my blade. So will you, M'Baku. We will be the sacrifice that will allow Wakanda to endure what is to come."
"Your loyalty to Wakanda is commendable, old warrior. I salute you!" M'Baku nodded, and respect shone in his eyes. "However, I can't allow you just to surrender. We need more time," M'Baku's next nod was different.
M'Kathu stared at the Jabari Tribe's elder in incomprehension. Old instincts kicked in, and he moved, surging to his feet. His hands went for the vibranium blade hanging from his blade. M'Kathu felt a burning sting in his neck. His hands refused to move, and his legs gave away under him. He collapsed, hitting his chin on the desk on the way down.
Strong hands gripped M'Kathu's shoulders, rolling him to his back. A cool, hard palm touched his neck, and he stared at an inhuman face. As the elder watched, the face above him slowly shifted, into a replica of his own, just a grayish-green one, before the color darkened, and he was looking into his mirror image.
"You are right, M'Baku. We can't just surrender," The impossible impostor spoke in a perfect replica of M'Kathu's voice. "After their mission is done, we will recall and conserve our air force. They will be in use when the outsiders gather a ground force to come and invade. A few months should be enough to develop new weapons allowing our fighters to strike outside of the enemy's effective range. We will let the outsiders advance, then destroy their logistics and strand them in the middle of nowhere. That will buy us sufficient time, would it not?"
M'Kathu heard the door open, and heavy footsteps softly echoed over the metal floor.
"I can assure you, mining operations continue apace. We will have an impressive haul. That much vibranium? We could retire with our share of the spoils!" That was Zawavari's voice, but it was impossible! M'Kathu saw her body! She died in the coup alongside T'Chaka!
She had also been replaced; it suddenly dawned on the paralyzed man. All M'Kathu could do was watch with impotent horror as what could only be an alien looked down at him and smiled again.
"We must thank you. Without your people or the War Dogs, we would have never been in a position to do this. We will drink in your honor when we retire and enjoy the spoils of this adventure!" M'Kathu's face smiled happily at him, and he knew no more.
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General Dynamics Research facility
Outside of New York City
Waiting in the basement, alongside many scared scientists and engineers and even more people who muttered to themselves in disbelief, wasn't my idea of fun. However, even with a very eager and ready-for-action Mjolnir floating by my site like an attack dog, I couldn't justify going out and hunting those sent to kill me. That was a novel experience. Back in the day, this would only be true if I was busy commanding a battle or dealing with political issues that simply couldn't be set aside for something as mundane as an assassination attempt.
With the state of the Force in this universe and the reality of how much my body could handle even its diminished glory, the equation was very different these days. The least I would need to feel confident I wasn't being a complete imbecile would be a good set of Bescar armor. Bescar was obviously out of reach even if it existed in this universe. Armor-wise, a proper power armor, ideally portable, would be the best answer I was likely to get any time soon. In theory, enhancing my body could help. However, such things tend to play poorly with the Force. One day Reed Richards may act as a useful test subject.
Until then, there were two pressing issues. First, the metal in my chest wasn't getting out in the next few years, at the very least. The odds of death or getting stuck in a bed due to complications were excessive. They would gradually decline over the coming years, but that was cold comfort right now.
The armor issue was more vexing because it was at least partly under my control. I could design a passable power armor right now. Yet, I lacked the tools and technologies to make it more than a slow firepower magnet that couldn't take enough punishment to matter. Existing armor alloys that can be produced outside of trace amounts in a laboratory were lacking and would remain out of reach for a few years at the very last. A ballistic gel with non-Newtonian properties to mitigate or neutralize shock waves was under development but potentially years away. Miniaturized power source… a backpack-sized Arc-reactor might cut it. However, without other vital components, the absolute best I could do right now was a powered exoskeleton that could resist light weapons fire. The precursors to that technology were either in development or in testing, and it was only a question of time before my engineers in SI cracked all the issues.
Such armor, while helpful, was far below what I would require to get into a fight. The answers were right here, just out of reach, and they would remain so until the next steps of the uplift were completed. Now, of course, there was a new addition to the equation I was eager to get my hands on, and my would-be assassins were courteous enough to bring advanced gear for me to study. It was an entirely different question of how Wakanda got ahead of the rest of the world. Every instance I was aware of involved one faction on a planet being in contact with the wilder galaxy and simply trading for what they could.
That was what I wanted and needed to get the uplift a booster shot or ten. I hoped Thor's people might provide a solution that would save us years, if not decades, of effort, yet instead, they were now a potential threat.
Wakanda, whatever the truth about it, fell in the same category! Why weren't those bastards willing to trade? Any price we could afford without compromising the uplift effort would have been a bargain we would eagerly go for, and I was sure I was talking with the World Council's authority on this.
Distant and not-so-distant explosions kept shaking the building, and Mjolnir kept prodding me to go out and have fun. I was beginning to wonder if it influenced Thor in being Thor. I looked at the hammer with questions in my eyes, and it did its best 'innocent' expression, so to speak.
"Mr. Stark, the last known member of the enemy strike teams, has been neutralized," The leader of my SWORD-issued bodyguards informed me.
"Status of the air raid?"
"Most remaining enemy aircraft have been damaged and attempting to retreat while the Air Force is in pursuit. We are to bunker here until heavy reinforcements arrive to move you to a safe location, sir."
"Make sure to grab some of the attacker's gear for study," I reminded them. It wasn't like there were many people better qualified to take the first crack at anything salvaged from the ongoing fighting.
=SI=
Part 6
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Razor flight
Wakanda airspace
The French pilots were surprised no one and nothing had intercepted them yet ten minutes after entering Wakanda's airspace. They kept flying and recording what their recon pods could glean – which was the expected small village herds of goats and the people keeping an eye on them. One of the pilots was quite sure he gleaned a small group galloping on horseback. Yet, there was no trace of an advanced civilization capable of striking across Europe and beyond with stealth craft that blew the American bombers and F-22s out of the water.
One thing command thought obvious, and the pilots agreed – modern cities were hotter than the surrounding areas. One of the best places to hide one was where no one would think twice about seeing hot spots on thermal. Even if you somehow concealed a city, what about the heat it produced?
Wakanda conveniently had such places near its border with Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of the Kongo. That region contained more than a few volcanoes, which have been partially active for centuries.
They could detect no tracking radars, a trace of modern civilization, or even towns and cities resembling those they flew over while passing through Kenya before reaching Lake Victoria.
Half of Razor Flight flew high, just below the cloud cover. At the same time, the rest went low in the hope of avoiding effective detection by any SAM emplacements.
On the ground, surprised people looked with confusion at the unfamiliar aircraft flying above them. Here and there, members of the Border Tribe who weren't deployed in the cities to keep the peace reported the intrusion. However, while noted, those first reports were dismissed as distraction attempts by units that obviously were not loyal to the new regime. Orders went down the chain of command to detain and interrogate the warriors who raised a false alarm.
By the time more and more reports reached the new leadership, which was stretched thin trying to keep the country together and maintain an illusion of strength and legitimacy, it was too late. Wakanda was a small country, and the French fighters flew quickly. In ten minutes, the air raid could cover almost two hundred kilometers, moving at the maximum subsonic speed of the Strike Fighters. That was fast enough to cover a good chunk of the country's length. More importantly, it was just enough to get from the border near Lake Victoria to the holographic field surrounding the Golden City.
After the coup, the people responsible for Wakanda's air defense were either dead or in custody, awaiting the military government's decision about their final disposition. The warriors of the Border Tribe crewing their stations were unfamiliar with their equipment. Their first reflex upon receiving a warning about intruding foreign aircraft was to run a diagnostic. Indeed, no outsider would dare attack Wakanda or know to do so!
When people comprehended their new reality and began to react appropriately, the first French Strike Fighter was less than a minute from flying above the Golden City. Of the Dragon and Talon squadrons that should have been Wakanda's first line of defense, there were literally a handful of aircraft left in the country, with a few designated as transport for the new leadership and not meant to engage in combat. That left only a few Dragons that had returned from delivering weapons and were being loaded with their next batch of cargo while their crews rested.
A ring of automated concealed energy cannons was meant to provide a second line of defense and back up the Air Force in case of an attack. When they were activated, the French aircraft were out of range, leaving only the Golden City's defenses to meet them. Several weapon emplacements were built into the hills, cradling Wakanda's real capital. The only issue with them was that opening fire would disrupt the holographic field covering the city, exposing its location to outsiders. The same was true for activating the shield.
Ultimately, the order to activate those defenses came only after two Rafales, followed by six Strike Fighters, entered the holo field, believing they were about to overfly a smoking volcano with its sides covered by lush forests.
The French pilots' exclamation of surprise broke the radio silence, followed by excited reports to the rest of the flight and the Carrier Battle Group, sailing off the Somalian coast and heading for the Persian Gulf at maximum speed. The Holyfield distorted and deflected their calls. If it wasn't for the rest of the flight flying right above the city acting as stations to transmit data to the Charles de Gaule, the fighters that found themselves above the Golden City would have seemingly vanished without a trace.
The automated cannons came online, and their armored hangars opened. Radars and more exotic sensors awoke, painting the airspace above the Golden City.
However distorted their transmissions were, they were understandable. Warning icons and targets appeared on target computers. Three Rafales and six Strike Fighters went evasive. Their plane's computers could detect the threats. In many cases, the pilots could see the cannons unlimber and begin tracking on the mountainsides beside them.
In the city below, thousands, then tens of thousands, looked up with stunned disbelief. The cannons opened fire, throwing blue streaks of energy calibrated to avoid the tallest buildings in the city. Missiles answered them and six more Strike Fighters descended like ravenous birds of prey. The remaining three Rafales stayed on station above the city, looking for threats and transmitting priceless information about Wakanda.
Some cannons rotated to aim up and went to rapid fire, bracketing the descending Strike Fighters with energy bolts. Missiles and rockets slammed into the mountainsides, engulfing cannon emplacements in fire. A Super Etendard blew up, touched by an energy bolt. A second one followed, proving not agile enough to break the targeting lock. A missile struck true, yet its warhead failed to detonate due to the too-short distance it was launched from before impact.
In the sky, two then three Strike Fighters died while racing to fly through the holographic field, but not before one unleashed its rockets and two gravity bombs in the general direction of the incoming fire. A fourth blew up as it flew through the hologram of a tree. The remaining two Strike Fighters lived long enough for their targeting pods to lase targets and launch missiles, followed by rockets and bombs. More explosions shook the cannons shooting up, throwing off their aim for precious moments.
Seconds later, two more Super Etendards blew up, spreading debris and burning fuel all over the Golden City. In response, the mountain range to the west of the capital turned into an inferno when the bomb and missiles struck true. Capacitors burst, and energy cannons blew up, turning into burning beacons. A single Super Etendard and two Rafales were still alive below the holographic dome, and only because they were flying too low for the automated cannons to target without hitting the city itself. Three, then a fourth Dragon finally rose to meet them, resulting in a short, one-sided air battle.
At the same time, a Wakandan fighter shot down the last surviving Rafale within the city limits; the remaining French aircraft hit their afterburners and split, heading towards US bases in Saudi Arabia.
Their mission was an unmitigated success, despite the heavy losses. NATO now knew the location of one of Wakanda's modern cities, as well as the area of some of its defenses and their capabilities. Now the Carrier Battle Group had targets for cruise missiles, and they would launch them soon, matching the timing to ensure that NATO satellites would be above Wakanda the whole time the strike flew above the country. That, in turn, would reveal more targets for a follow-up strike that would be launched hours later from US bases across the Middle East and US Navy elements in the Persian Gulf.
The following day, there would be no doubt that an unexpected and unwanted war came to Wakanda. Hundreds of thousands of angry and confused citizens would be demanding answers from their new government.