Von Neumann’s War

“Yep. We’re almost through with a composite Corona setup. But I hope we don’t need it because the information from that will be much less useful than from these little bad boys right here.” Roger patted the little satellite lovingly as if it were his child.

* * *

“Cady, you awake?”

“Yes, sir?” the sergeant major answered as he raised his cap to look over to the major. Gries’ feet were propped in the window of the open Humvee door and Cady could tell he was focusing on something in the sky.

“They’re here. Time to dance.”

“Yes, sir.” Cady rubbed his face and straightened up in the driver’s seat. “Where, sir?”

“There!” Gries pointed at a spot in the sky just beyond the Tennessee River south of the airport. Then two F-16s zipped over the trees and touched down side by side. Those two were followed by two more and then two more and so on. The fighters taxied in to the parking area and parked in formation about a hundred meters from where the Humvee was parked.

“Let’s go, Sergeant Major.”

“Sir.” Cady started up the vehicle and drove them up to the base of one of the fighters that had “Colonel Matthew ‘Bull’ Ridley” painted just beneath the cockpit. There were also eight shiny boomerangs painted on the nose of the plane. The sergeant major noted that they were unusually small. The pilot obviously intended to add lots more.

“Colonel Ridley, sir! I didn’t expect to see you so soon, and congratulations,” Major Gries saluted the colonel as he climbed down from the F-16. “If the Major may make so bold, Colonel, sir, you’re looking one fuck of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“Greetings, greetings Major,” the colonel said, smiling as he returned the salute. “Good to see you too, Sergeant Major. At ease, gentlemen. No need to stand at attention for the newly promoted full colonel; kissing my ring is sufficient.”

“Yes, sir,” Gries replied, grinning. “I’ll keep that in mind. How’re the shoulder and the feet, Colonel?”

“Hurt like hell before it rains, but other than that I’m good to go according to the flight surgeon.”

“Hard to keep an old dog down, right, sir?” Cady smiled.

“Damn skippy, Sergeant Major. Now, let me find Rene and get my boys situated and one of you two can buy me a drink.”

“We’ll have to skip the drink, sir,” Gries replied, shrugging. “Dr. Guerrero told us to get you and Rene over to the AS HQ asap. There’s a liaison here waiting to get your squadron situated.”

“A woman she work from sun to sun but a cunnel’s work is never done?” Ridley tucked his flight gloves into his new all composite helmet and started loosening the g-suit.

“Sir, let’s make sure your fellows are taken care of. That seems soon enough for me.” Shane grinned thinly and turned to Cady. “Sergeant Major Cady?”

“Sir?” Cady barked, snapping to attention theatrically.

“Sergeant Major, it looks like that damned motor pool gave us another Humvee with shit tires. Looks like that right rear is running on the run-flat. How long do you think it will take you to get it fixed?” Shane asked.

“Yes, sir, Major, sir! That is so totally my fault. I should’ve given that damned specialist at the pool an earful when we picked up that shit-ass vehicle this morning! I guess it should take, oh…” Cady paused and consulted his watch. “Carry the two…”

“About an hour and a half,” Ridley said, smiling.

“I’d say about an hour and forty-five minutes, Major, sir!” Cady finished.

“Good, see to it, Top.”

“Colonel,” Cady winked and saluted, then boarded the Humvee.

“Now Colonel, let’s see about your squadron.”

* * *

Support for the Huntsville Redoubt Air Support Squadron had been trickling in for the better part of the week before Colonel Ridley and the “Rednecks,” as they were calling themselves, landed. Ridley had decided if they were going to be assigned to protect the rednecks down in Huntsville, Alabama, that they might as well fit in.

An equipment hangar had been designated on the commercial side of the airport where the FedEx aircraft had been maintained before the alien invasion. The USAF was in full swing, commandeering and operating the fighter wing out of the commercial side of the airport.

On the other hand, somebody had dropped the damned ball figuring out where thirty new pilots were going to bunk once they got there. Shane and Colonel Ridley spent the better part of an hour kicking people out of the Airport Hotel and having them relocated to hotels farther away, Ridley’s reasoning being that in case of an air attack, the pilots had to be right there on call and only minutes from take-off; civilian contractors could stay anywhere. The entire town had pretty much been turned into a redoubt, so moving folks farther from the center of the base or the airport was not a major issue from a protection standpoint. Hell, Gries or Ridley didn’t think it would matter much anyway having seen first hand how the probes attacked. But, of course, they never said anything like that.