Chapter 3: Ring of Fire

“You freaking want us to do what?!” Richard’s jaw dropped, and Smokey smacked the back of his head. Clearly, in the years since leaving the Army, Richard’s spit-and-polish demeanor had stayed behind.

“Would you mind repeating that?” she politely asked their boss, as the now experienced pair of smoke jumpers sat side-by-side at a conference table in their hotel’s meeting room.

“I know that what you heard is what I said,” Reggie Torn sighed and told them. “To elaborate, the Air Force wants the two of you on loan as FOs and spotters for their scorched earth strategy to contain the advancing dickheads. They think your Army experience combined with your firefighting can multiply the effectiveness of their strikes by orders of magnitude.”

Reggie gave them a minute to think, then continued, “The overall strategy is to deny the Sa’arm access to organics – their food – that they need to survive. Regardless of delivery method, the double prong tactics involves one prong burning far in advance of Sa’arm lines to minimize exposure to their quick reaction and targeting. The other prong is going to burn as close as possible to their advance.”

“The Sa’arm don’t have individual fighter planes like we do. I suppose that might change, but nevertheless even ground units are incredibly fast and good at spotting, triangulating, and firing – even with their basic infantry-type weapons. Low-level Vietnam style Napalm bombing just will not work. Low-level bombing and strafing means a downed bird, every time.”

“Does this mean we’re recalled to active duty?” Richard queried.

“Not at all,” Reggie responded, “you’ll each be sworn in as a US Marshal. There are enough idiots who won’t evacuate that the marshals have been given two missions. They will spearhead evacuations, forced if necessary, and will designate areas cleared for interdiction or burning. There has to be civilian oversight for military action in the USA – especially given the number of unbelievers and antagonists against the Confederacy.”

“I don’t see our skill sets best utilized to root out recalcitrant assholes,” Richard told his boss.

“They don’t either,” Reggie told him. “You might have an occasional assignment involving jerks, but what they really want is to use your knowledge of fires to direct the types of ordinance and placement to maximize the coverage of large burns.”

Smokey looked at her partner, raised an eyebrow, and gave a slight nod.

Richard stood and leaned over the table. “Subject to a deeper briefing,” he declared. “If they guarantee Gwen and I will continue to be a team working together, we think we are all in.”

A day later they were sitting with a small group in civilian dress in an auditorium filled with men and women wearing flight suits and toting a variety of note taking paraphernalia. From the rear of the room came a stentorian voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. Colonel James Medford will begin your briefing.”

A short, flight suit clad man with eagles on his shoulders, strode to the stage and began, “I want you to know that you will be one of this nation’s primary lines of defense against the Sa’arm incursion. This is a strategic briefing to make sure we are all on the same page so that your tactical assignments will make sense.”

“So, let’s review what we know and what we postulate about the Sa’arm colonization process,” Medford told them. “Picture a colony ship landing on the planet named Sa’arm Heaven. The Sa’arm immediately start defrosting the stored Sa’arm-sicles. A contingent begins digging an underground complex. Above and below ground, Sa’arm units begin – we’ll call it – ‘exploring’ outward from the ship in all directions. They’re looking for resources.”

“Once the Sa’arm get to tunneling, they are increasingly difficult to detect, stop, and destroy. Not that countering them above ground is a piece of cake.” He paused to let the tense laughter die away, then continued. “And that, my lads and lassies, brings me to your role. While the Army, the Marines, and Earth Defense Forces have their usual missions to fight on the ground and in the warrens, you are going to starve the dickheads to death.”

“Think about it. The Sa’arm seem to be able to eat and survive on just about anything organic, but we really don’t know how long they can survive without eating. While we think we know the optimum composition of nutrients, we also think if we can burn everything within several days march, we should be able to weaken their abilities. Complicating our calculations, in other locations some dickhead carcasses have been found to be carrying packets of kibbles – apparently their version of MREs. It’s pretty much pure speculation how universal kibble packets are and what are the equivalent days of nutrition a packet supplies.”

The colonel sighed, “And one more thing, we think but don’t know, that the Sa’arm cannot directly eat petroleum or coal. Probably, since they lack Confederacy replicators, they can’t convert either into their kibbles. God, we better hope that’s the case or their arrival at the Dakota oil fields or the Alberta oil sands will totally negate our efforts.”

Richard turned to Smokey and whispered, “I gotta think the Canadians are in on this, too.”

As if the colonel had read his mind, he stated, “Our Canadian brothers and sisters think pretty much the same as we do, so with minor changes, what I’m about to describe south of our border will be mirrored by them. So folks, with the Canadians, you are going to firebomb and burn a ring around the Sa’arm colony ship at least one hundred miles deep and, hopefully, two hundred miles. The state of North Dakota is a little over two hundred miles deep, so that portion of the ring would be up to seventy thousand square miles of burn.”

“We will start at the Red River in the northeast corner of North Dakota, and with prevailing winds allowing, work west along North Dakota’s border with Canada. Part of this approach is to see if we can herd or direct the Swarm incursion away from more densely populated areas. The populace and politicians in the burn areas are going to scream, but the reality is, those areas are going to be our first northern battlegrounds with the dickheads. One way or another, they are lost.”

Colonel Medford banged his fist on the lectern and boomed, “That’s the strategy. Take a bio-break, top off your cups, and jaw about this for half an hour. Put your butts back in your seats at zero nine thirty, and we’ll talk tactics and logistics. Spotters Ames and Novak come see me as soon as you’ve accomplished your drain and fill.”

Smokey grinned, elbowed Richard, and declared, “For once, there won’t be huge line for the female facilities. Promise me a good licking tonight and I’ll smuggle you into the girls’ room before these flyboys catch on.”

“Ya know, that bird colonel’s pretty savvy setting off a yak session before he gets to nut cuttin’,” Smokey told him as they made their way to the front of the auditorium. “Get some of the ‘what the shit’ out of the way. This stuff is really gonna be gut wrenching, and he needs everyone’s full attention.”

The pair strode up to the colonel and came to a posture between attentive and casual slouch, “You asked for us, Colonel?” Richard asked.

Medford looked at them, laughed, stuck out his hand, and said, “You know, I had some doubts, but I think the two of you might have the gonads to pull this off. You can’t get away with that ‘I’m not still in the Army crap’ with me! I’ve read your records, talked with some of your NCOs. Neither of you know how to be anything but all in, but you’re going to have it worse than any of my pilots.”

It appeared that the colonel had planned what he wanted to say, but then found it very difficult, “I wanted to talk with you earlier, in private, but it didn’t work out. So here it is – my sky jockeys are your weapon, but you have to use your knowledge and expertise to aim and pull the trigger. But this isn’t a sandbox; this is your country, your home, your people, and you are going to burn it and kill some of them. Not with malice but out of necessity.”

“Now my pilots may or may not see much of what they destroy or who they kill, but you certainly will. I’m going to tell them that regardless of rank or former rank, it is your call. It’s going to tear you all up – can’t help but...”

He let them absorb this and continued, “There will be after action debriefings and critiques so we can learn to do better, but know this, there will be no blame. My direct number has been texted to your phones. If you need anything I can give, you are to use that number, night or day.”

The trio stood silent for a few minutes, then Medford told them, “Time to get back and seated. If you have questions, see me after the briefing.”

Back in their seats, they tried to relax before the light dimmed and the newly lowered screen was filled with alternating images. Confusing imagery, until the colonel began speaking again, “Almost everyone in this room, including me, is a rejuvenated retread and so are the assets you see on the screen. We’re going to match you up with birds you know best. Enhanced birds. You won’t like the idea, but current plans are for your active duty brothers and sisters to tackle the Sa’arm, and you are going to be firebugs.”

He was right as the volume of muttering showed. Medford paused, then used his ‘clicker’ to brighten the lights and stop the video. “All right. I know you think you’re getting the pussy assignments, but suck it up. Picture a low flying wing of crop dusters, traveling upwind, spraying gasoline instead of pesticides. You’re flying the igniter. Use poor timing when you fire your tracers or if you pull up late and are caught by the fireball – instant Post Toasties. This will NOT be a picnic!”

The colonel smacked his fist on the podium, “Ladies and gentlemen, unless things change, the Sa’arm will not have air cover, so you are potentially your own worst enemies. But then, there are the misguided souls who forcibly object to your burning their farm. I remind you that some of them have combat experience and sometimes weapons to match. Maybe worst of all, your own conscience will give you hell as you attack your own country.”

He restarted the video and continued, “Enough gloom and doom. How about a sample of the good news? A number of years ago, starting in Tucson, the Confederacy placed factory scale replicators at all our aircraft bone yards. We started feeding all the aircraft into their recyclers – all the required elements for new birds, you see. The aircraft designs were tweaked, and thanks to replicators, new and improved versions are waiting for you.”

“You’ll be briefed on specific modifications to your craft, but if you need to punch out, you’ll now have two options. The first is traditional, but for the second, a Confed transporter has been installed in your canopy. You’d eject through that into the air over your home base. After a pleasant drift down, you’ll be ready to pick up your new bird. As standard practice, nanites will eat your castoff bird to prevent the Sa’arm from getting any useful technology.”