From: will.keith@mail.utexas.edu (William J. Keith) Subject: Operation : Phoenix - Battle's Dawn Date: 1996/02/07 Message-ID: organization: University of Texas - Austin newsgroups: alt.barney.dinosaur.die.die.die Battleıs Dawn The first I heard of it was when the screen blanked in front of me and squealed like a banshee that sat on a tack. The videoconference Iıd been speaking on was lost completely, probably along with the report Iıd just sent via data line to Research Coordination at HQ. Everything I tried failed to bring it back up, as I kept running into: ³System barrier: request denied.² Finally I kicked the damn thing and said: ³WHAT system?² ³Spongification Material Safeguards.² Well, thatıs a different story, now, isnıt it... and I had been forgetting that this station had been equipped with voice input recently; impressive equipment for a raw Ensign, even in a major battlefield. No problem; an operative occasionally managed to log into JihadNet and start mailbombing, and usually got headed off at the receivers, plus located and shut down in minutes, never getting anything major done toward interfering with operations. Iıd been detailing the latest field results on weapons for hours now, anyway; I could use a break. I stood up and stretched, looking over to the Com boys who were responsible for getting my conversation back on track. What I saw was not what I expected; a flurry of activity, even some personnel that looked near to panicking. Screens were off, staticky, or showing blotches of Demon-Purple that were wiped off as fast as they came on. Radios were off, except for the hand-held short-rangers. The officer in charge glanced at me, gave a curt reply to the technician he was talking with, and cut to the chase. ³Keith! You got a terminal on in there?² ³Yes, sir; or well, it was until-² ³Shut it down! This is bad enough without extra terminals on we donıt need.² ³But I do need it, sir! Iım in the middle of sending a report to Headquarters, Resear-² He straightened up; I shut up. ³Nothingıs getting through anywhere, and it wonıt for a good while. This isnıt your average mailbomber. Shut it down and make preparations to leave Atlanta for Headquarters. Deliver your report in person, if you make it.² ³Youıre... sending me back, sir?² He was gruff, but he saw what I was thinking, and knew Iıd misinterpreted him. ³No, Ensign, youıre not getting sent back. This whole unit is packing up and heading to HQ. And since youıre assigned to us until your assignment is over, youıre with us until we get back there. Now move!² He turned back to his station, an obvious dismissal. I said, ³Aye, sir,² just to be on the safe side, and went back to shut down. ³...if we make it?² It was always chancy moving personnel out of a war zone, but the airspace between here and TRES HQ was relatively secure, wasnıt it? And why would we be moving out a communications unit? For that matter, why would we be transferring personnel at all? We were just about even right now, although the Admiral had been pulling off some pretty impressive stunts recently, especially that bit with the power grid(yeah, okay, Iım biased, I calculated that resonance frequency myself). Iıd expected this to be a short assignment, so Iıd packed light - even with the awesome computing power sitting in the left pack, everything fit in the battlesuit prefectly. Two transports were ready, one filled with the unit and its gear, one with the communications equipment that their life revolved around. As soon as cruising altitude had been secured, we gathered around a few makeshift stations in the forward part of the plane. ³All right, no oneıs been working on the whole problem, so Iıll fill everyone in on the details. To begin with, our equipment wiped the mailbombing pretty fast, so we didnıt get the message everyone else in the Jihad has by now. Fleet Commander Samhain is dead.² No one moved. The pilot, who had apparently already found out, just bowed his head for a moment and continued on. This monumental blow to the Jihad stunned us thoroughly. When we roused again, it was with revenge in our eyes. ³But the time for mourning is later. Right now, TRES HQ is under massive siege. We have conflicting reports placing the minimum number of spoungies at 65,000. Thatıs not the problem. The problem is another 40,000 Xıhirjq that, for Grimace knows what reason, are still pissed enough to want to kick our asses. Not mad enough, however, to miss attempting to do the job well. JihadNet has been mailbombed, and thoroughly. Messages are continuing to come in at short, regular intervals, in large amounts, and a hell of a lot faster than we can clean them out. Weıre generally lucky if one in ten short messages can get through via flash traffic on the JihadLinkers. ³Gentlemen, this is no way to run an army. ³We have two priorities. First: find the source and quit it transmitting. Once that happens, the terminals will be smart enough to clean themselves out and we can communicate again. Devon, you pick half the staff and concentrate on that. These terminals are linked to the equipment set up in that plane to our left. Itıll be slow, but get started - weıll seriously buckle down at HQ. ³Second, we need to get the Jihad communicating again. Radios are down except for short range communications; standard practice of Xıhirjq invasions, most likely. Theyıre jamming frequencies up and down the range, past microwave and below ELF, and rotating frequencies for their own use. Weıve got no long-range equipment to handle transmissions any other way. Find one. Keith, youıre a researcher, so youıre with this group. ³Questions?² Silence. ³Move.² Our group gathered in the back of the plane near the gear, thoughtful and, in a few cases, frustrated. How do you set up a national/global comunications net with squat? Jack Desmond, a transplanted Brit, started first, and the rest of them jumped in. ³What about the old-fashioned way? Telephone lines?² ³Tappable, cuttable, and downright unreliable. Let the civilians keep Œem.² ³Weird thought: power lines. Could we get the word out, and find some way to send the message that way?² ³Even if you could figure some equipment to use it, howıd you transfer it in the first place? New York power stations donıt supply California lines.² ³Besides, weıd still need to get the word out.² ³And, no one else could use the power grid. Forget it. Itıs not worth the trouble it would cause with civilian contacts and supply lines.² ³Well, how ARE we going to get the word out? Runners like the Mayans? Weıd be conquered before a message got to Wyoming.² I decided to toss in my idea. ³How about this: the Xıhirjq are jamming the EM spectrum everywhere in the radio range. So send messages outside that section. Modulate visible light.² Every one of them looked at me as if Iıd lost my mind. ³Keith, how are you going to modulate a light beam over any distance and keep it contained without a fiber?² I grinned and pushed back with my elbow, incidentally activating the sequence of commands that powered-up my VR-141ıs laser(safety on, of course). ³Manufacturerıs guarantee, extremely powerful for long distances, cohesive for at least 10 miles. You couldnıt knock over a card house with the pulse after itıs out of range, but we arenıt trying to kill the guy at the other end anyway. Enter the message, adjust the power for the distance, and use the firing mechanism to modulate the signal. Bingo. Flash traffic that can be read with a sensitive optical sensor and a medium-powered computer.² They thought for a moment, and Jack spoke up. ³Youıll need appropriate software; even if the message is just in simple ASCII, the optical sensor will need to feed that information to whatever text reader there is.² ³Include that with the first message. Design it like a virus that expands itself once when the processor tries to analyze the visual data. The programıll recognize and translate the optical message, which will basically be just instructions on how to send this on at first.² ³I think I can swing that.² Fred, the tech geek in the troop. ³But how can we send a message over long distances?² I chuckled. ³Once we get the initial message out, weıll use Bethıs idea.² ³RUNNERS?² ³Darn close. Station troops with appropriate equipment at intervals over distances between major hubs. Have them launch up to a height, fire the message at the next guy in the chain, and move on to the the next prearranged spot. If a breakdown occurs, everyone moves up from the hubs until the gap is filled.² ³The guys running this are going to have to be serious hit-and-run types to survive; theyıre gonna have half the Xıhirjq scout groups looking for them.² ³I know. Hopefully, weıll have few casualties until Devonıs group can get JihadNet back on line.² The officer in charge came up to us and asked for a progress report. We spelled out the idea and the casualty risks, and waited for his opinion. It came shortly. ³Do it.² Time passed quickly for several hours while we worked on the program for the initial message and mapped out the most likely hub spots: TRES HQ, Atlanta, various JAO headquarters, certain major troop gatherings. By the time everything had been loaded into my battlesuitıs Comptech A-4 (the only available workstaion not tied up with the security search in front), we were surprised to hear the pilot calling for seats for final approach. As we headed for the seats, we could see the front of TRES HQ in the night. For miles in front of the Gate, bright lights dotted the sponge positions as they waited for the attack, framed more ominously by the dim lights of the Xıhirjq campsite in back. Behind it all, like a diamond nestled in its rocky home sind the land was formed, stood TRES HQ, a shining pyramid topped with a jewel of light, giving a sense of stability and hope to all of us. That stability was quickly shattered as the plane rocked beneath us. ³Screw your seats! Get into your gear and strap down! Weıve got company!² Underscoring the pilotıs words came a wicked bolt of green light passing by us, followed immediately by the sound of its twin hitting the fuselage. We ran to the back of the plane, getting set up in our battlesuits or armor as the case might be, and trusted the plane and maybe our lives to the skills of the men in front of us. Never will I say that they failed, only that the Xıhirjq flyers were better that night. First down was the plane with the equipment, wringing gasps as the men whose lifework was those machines flamed into oblivion on the plain below. As we powered up for independent flight, should that become necessary, the plane tilted like a roller coaster and threw us into a freefall spin. Holding firmly to the fuselage, it was clear that the front end had blown off. Their memories will be with us. We launched into the night, scattering as the plane fell and bolts from the Xıhirjq pilots chased us through the dark. I quickly found myself alone, save for the flying corpse who thought he was going to take me down. I circled tightly, far tighter than he could, and waited patiently on his tail until the armor-piercer got a lock. Just for the hell of it, and since I knew he was in black, I broadcast my name and I.D. on all channels - he should have picked up one - right before I blasted the scum to wherever an Xıhirjq goes when he gets fragged. I turned and faced TRES HQ again. Our troop transport had had the cover of its own weapons and a dark blue painting for night flights, but my silvery battlesuit was already drawing sporadic fire in the early dawn light from the enemy artillerists. The land routes were completely covered. There would be no making headquarters today. The next best place to head was the ski town, visible as a sharp-edged shadow a few miles away. I headed down and transformed the suit into cycle mode, making top speed for the next stop on my way to headquarters. To be Continued in Battleıs Day William J. Keith