37º 10’ 26” North, 5º 36’ 24” West
Morón Air Base Command Centre, Seville
20:30 GMT+1
The last thirty minutes had been frantic. When it was confirmed that the Euro Hawk 1 had been destroyed by 2012 UA, President Alonso was left no alternative. He ordered for the object to be intercepted and destroyed before it reached Seville. The command instantly led to a flurry of calls and messages. A cabinet meeting was called for 21:00 GMT+1 when a state of alert would be declared across Andalusia. Due to the scale of the threat, the government required authorisation to mobilise and direct all necessary civilian and military resources during the crisis.
During this interval, Preston had seized the chance to report back to General Giles. As he had suspected, the general had been watching the same live stream and was already up to date with the latest events. The situation was chaotic. Every military and intelligence department was working overtime to analyse everything known about 2012 UA so far. Every expert in the land was working to determine its threat level, operating capacity and origins but they still knew nothing for certain. General Giles explained to Preston that conflicting opinions were being thrown around. Some analysts believed that, if they attacked its propulsion jets, the Spanish fighter jets would easily be able to shoot the object down. Other, more extreme, factions believed that only a total mobilisation of NATO troops would be sufficient.
The latter option had so far been rejected out of hand. No one was prepared to be held responsible for such a drastic move without concrete evidence that it was absolutely necessary. The political repercussions could be dire. Apparently, the loss of a reconnaissance drone alone simply wasn’t enough. Preston wound up the conversation, agreeing to report back to his superior once the Spanish F-18s had made contact with 2012 UA.
Preston glanced at his mobile phone. He had just sent a message to Chapman outlining the turn of events and telling him and the boys to be ready for anything. He hadn’t ruled out the possibility that this operation could spiral out of control. Images of that massive air-borne hulk kept flashing through his mind. Something in his guts warned him that they were in serious danger. Would two fighter jets be enough to take that thing out? When he had raised his concerns with General Echevarría, he was informed that no further resources were being allocated for the time being. In fact, the general agreed with him, also suspecting that they were up against something far more serious than anyone thought. But the president wasn’t yet prepared to order a large-scale mobilisation that could tip off the media. So, the original plan remained in place: a rapid response unit was being sent up. Their hopes were pinned on a few missiles being enough to see 2012 UA crash and burn.
Colonel Hidalgo approached Preston and told him they would shortly be speaking to President Alonso and the defence, home office, foreign affairs and public works ministers. Several high-ranking officers from the army, air force and navy would also be joining them.
Preston joined General Echevarría and Colonel Hidalgo and waited for them to resume the videoconference. President Alonso soon reappeared on the screen, his expression grave.
“General Echevarría, I’ve just spoken to the government of Andalusia, NATO, the EU emergency cabinet and the president of the United States. They’re all waiting for developments. Now, give me an update on the interception mission heading towards that goddamn thing,” they could hear in his voice the same tension they felt.
“Mr President, as we explained earlier, as soon as we were informed that 2012 UA was heading towards Spanish territory, a rapid response unit was immediately readied for action. Two F-18 fighter jets took off twenty minutes ago from Torrejón de Ardoz Air Base. Their mission is to shoot down the hostile object,” General Echevarría explained martially. “NATO has provided us with an AWACS from Naval Station Rota to help monitor and track 2012 UA.”
“Where is 2012 UA right now?” President Alonso was becoming more and more uneasy.
“Since the incident with the reconnaissance drone, 2012 UA has been gradually reducing its speed and altitude. It’s currently just over fifteen minutes away from Seville at an altitude of forty-two thousand feet.”
“Do you think it’ll attempt to land in the city?” His eyes reflected that he did not want confirmation of that fear.
“We have no way of knowing, Mr President. Its current course suggests it’ll stop somewhere between thirty and thirty-two thousand feet above Seville.”
“What’s our precise plan of attack?”
“We haven’t had enough time to run a thorough study. The Euro Hawk 1 wasn’t able to gather sufficient data. But we believe 2012 UA has some sort of energy-based weapon. Possibly some kind of laser. It didn’t attack our drone until it was really close and it hasn’t fired at any aircraft either. So, we believe its weapon has limited range.”
“Are you sure about that?” President Alonso looked at him, suspiciously.
“No, sir. We can’t be certain of anything. Don’t forget, we’re facing an unknown enemy with technology that no one has ever seen before. Right now, all we can do is make decisions based on guesswork. It’s a high-risk strategy, but we have no other choice,” General Echevarría admitted.
“What’s the risk to our pilots?”
“We believe there is high level of risk, Mr President. But they’ve been fully informed and are trained for unpredictable situations. We’ve drawn up a plan that will minimise the chance of the jets being detected. The two F-18s will approach Seville along the Guadalquivir basin and fly below radar coverage. Once they reach the city, they’ll ascend at full speed and launch their missiles at 2012 UA. It’ll be a short-distance strike. The object won’t have time to react and we can hopefully avoid any possible defence systems.”
“What about collateral damage?” President Alonso's voice became even deeper.
“It’ll be medium to high, Mr President. It all depends on whether or not we succeed in shooting the object down so that it crashes away from the city centre. The problem is that the whole metropolitan area has a high population density. It’ll be virtually impossible to avoid damage and civilian victims.”
“Isn’t there any other way? I don’t know how I’ll explain any fatalities to the public,” President Alonso said, glancing around at his ministers.
“Mr President, the emergency services are on stand-by and the MEU is ready to be deployed in Seville tonight,” General Echevarría explained. “Casualties will be kept to a minimum.”
“Other than the two F-18s, have any other troops been mobilised?”
“We’ve just deployed several air force observation units in helicopters. They’re getting ready right now. We already have soldiers in position at San Pablo airport, in Tablada, at the Torre Pelli in La Cartuja and at the Mirador del Aljarafe. We’ll have communication lines open in a few moments with visuals from each of these points. That means we’ll be able to observe the attack from different angles and specify the point of impact as precisely as possible.”
Preston watched as President Alonso moved in his seat and turned to face him.
“Lieutenant Colonel Preston, what are your thoughts? Do you believe this is the correct course of action?” He seemed to be begging for a miracle.
“Mr President, as General Echevarría has said, when you’re working by guesswork it means navigating uncharted waters. The situation is completely unprecedented. And unpredictable. And that’s the worst-case scenario in military terms. In situations like this, it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry. If you want my opinion, I’d say that relying exclusively on our current plan, just on the attack by two F-18s…Well, it may not be enough,” Jack spoke cautiously.
“Are you suggesting that we deploy more troops?”
“I’m afraid so, Mr President,” Preston replied firmly.
President Alonso gave him a harried look and the home affairs minister quickly leaned over and whispered something in his ear.
“The only way to do that legally would be to declare a state of siege. And that would have to be passed by the Congress of Deputies with an absolute majority. To be frank, Lieutenant Colonel Preston, I’m inclined to agree with you… It’s better to be overly cautious than caught unawares. But it’s impossible. I can’t take such extreme measures until I have conclusive evidence, I can use to convince Congress,” President Alonso looked at his ministers again, seeking their approval.
“I appreciate your position, Mr President. I hope the measures in place are sufficient. But something tells me we’re up against a bigger threat than we think…” Preston had a bad feeling.
“Right now, the way things stand, I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do. History will be the one to judge whether or not we made the right decisions. But I firmly believe in the bravery of our armed forces and am confident that those two pilots will be able to stop that thing.” President Alonso sighed hopefully.
The communications officer approached General Echevarría and whispered in his ear. The general gave a slight nod and called out a series of orders.
“Mr President, excuse me. We’re now linked up to our ground observation units. If you look at your screens, you’ll be able to see four new windows that show Seville and the sky from different points in the city,” General Echevarría pointed out.
Everyone watched as new images popped up on the main screen. Just as General Echevarría had described, they now had views from San Pablo Airport and the top of the Torre Pelli, Seville’s tallest building. The soldiers had taken the panoramic lift to its top floor and had an excellent view of the horizon. The third image was broadcast from Tablada barracks and the fourth was filmed by the observation unit at the Mirador del Aljarafe. This last team had the widest view across Seville and its surrounding area.
“General Echevarría, is it possible to see 2012 UA from Seville yet?” President Alonso was getting impatient.
“No, Mr President. It should come into sight in a few minutes, according to our estimates.”
“What about the F-18s?”
“They’re just about to start the final approach, Mr President. We’re linking up to them right now. We’ll put them up on the screen.”
“Good. I want to talk to the pilots,” Alonso felt it was the right thing to do; he had never experienced a situation like that before.
“Of course, Mr President. The link is being opened as we speak,” General Echevarría nodded.
The communications officer nodded to the general and everyone watched as two new windows appeared on the main screen. Each displayed one of the two pilots flying the F-18s.
“Serpent 1-1, Serpent 1-2, Morón Command Centre speaking,” the Communications Officer said. “You’re being patched through to General Echevarría and President Alonso.”
“Serpent 1-1, Captain Carlos García, copy.”
“Serpent 1-2, Captain Francisco Campos, copy.”
“Captain García, Captain Campos. General Echevarría speaking. President Alonso would like to say a few words.”
“We’d be honoured, sir,” Captain García replied.
“Captain García, Captain Campos… I’d just like to say, on behalf of myself and the people of Spain, how grateful we are for what you’re about to do. No one is more aware than I am that you’re risking your lives for the greater good,” President Alonso said gravely.
“We’re doing our duty, Mr President. We’ve been trained for combat and to protect our country and its people. We’ll give it everything we’ve got,” Captain García replied confidently.
“We’re ready for anything. We’ll make sure the target doesn’t put anyone’s lives in danger, Mr President,” Captain Campos also showed no doubt.
“I know you’ll do whatever has to be done. Shoot that thing down and come back to us safe and sound. That’s an order, pilots,” President Alonso said goodbye to them overcome with emotion.
“Yes, Mr President.” They both answered.
“Captain García, Captain Campos, you know what you have to do. All eyes are on you. Our thoughts are with you every step of the way. No losing heart when you see that thing close up. You show it that no one can attack this country and get away with it,” General Echevarría gestured to the communications officer. “Mr President, the link-up to the pilots has now been closed but we can still hear them. They’re very close to the object now.”
“Sir, the observation unit at San Pablo has something,” a technician called out.
One of the windows on the screen was expanded and everyone could now clearly make out an elongated object in the sky. It was moving slowly and inexorably forwards, leaving a fiery orange trail in its wake.
“General Echevarría, are you sure you’ll be able to shoot it down before it reaches the city? It’s almost on top of Seville!” President Alonso interrupted, visibly nervous.
“Mr President, we’re working on it… Listen to the pilots,” General Echevarría touched his right ear twice with his index finger.
Everyone watched as the windows displaying the two F-18 pilots now split into two to show the mission from their viewpoint. The aircraft rocketed forwards, flying at low altitude along the course of the Guadalquivir River. It was like watching a film on fast forward. They could clearly make out cars, houses and people, who must have been astonished to see the two fighter jets suddenly roar overhead. By now they could see some of the highest buildings in Seville in the distance. The aeroplanes were getting close. Everyone at the Command Centre listened in on the conversation between Captain García and Captain Campos.
“Images of the object coming through… Do you copy, Paco?” Captain Garcia wanted to know.
“Copy. What the hell is that thing?” Captain Campos wondered aloud.
“Whatever it is, we’re going to shoot it down… Keep an eye on your altitude before we ascend to meet it. Remember, civilian casualties must be kept to a minimum,” Captain García warned.
“Copy.”
“Morón Command Centre, Serpent 1-1 here. Requesting permission to arm missiles.”
“Morón here. Permission granted. Good luck Serpent 1-1, 1-2,” the communications officer said.
“Serpent 1-1 and 1-2 here. Copy that. Missiles armed. Initiating final approach towards object.” Captain Garcia couldn't stop looking at that thing.
37º 23’ 10” North, 6º 00’ 09” West
Isabel II Bridge, Seville
20:45 GMT+1
The sun was sinking down towards the horizon, dazzling the multitude of pedestrians who were crossing Isabel II Bridge from one side of the river to the other. Popularly known as Triana Bridge, the occasional car or bus was also driving across but, in general, few vehicles used the bridge. Ever since Calle San Jacinto on the far side had been pedestrianised there was considerably less traffic.
Maria Luces was standing with Carlos Domínguez in the centre of the bridge, on the south side, preparing for a live broadcast. Since the accident at the air show, Luces had been convinced that she would soon have a new opportunity to shine. Sadly, nothing could have been further from the truth. The channel had told her that if she managed to interview the skydiver involved in the accident, it would help her chances. So, she had tried. How she had tried. Two days straight she had spent in that bloody hospital, but neither the boy nor his family would speak to her. In the end she had had to accept that there was no other choice… It was time to get back to the grindstone. To being an insignificant correspondent who only reported on trivial events, her career eternally stuck in the doldrums. It was maddening. Of course, it was. But she wasn’t going to give up yet. Sooner or later another opportunity would present itself and when that happened, she wouldn’t mess it up again. She would grasp it with both hands and be bathed in the glory she so desperately wanted.
Domínguez interrupted her train of thought. “Maria, are you ready? Production says we’re on in one minute.”
“Yep, one second… Just let me fix my hair.”
Luces looked particularly attractive that afternoon. She was wearing pleated trousers, heeled sandals to emphasise her height and a light blouse, the carefully chosen outfit accentuating her slim figure. Her hair tumbled down loose across her shoulders and she wore minimal make-up; it was never a good idea to wear too much in the heat of Seville. She normally made an effort with her clothes when she was presenting but today was particularly special. As soon as she finished, she was meeting a guy for dinner. It was her first proper date in a long time so she had dressed to impress. She stood a couple of yards away from Domínguez, facing Triana with the centre of Seville behind her. Domínguez was fiddling with the camera and listening to directions from Ana Fernández, the programme’s director, through an earpiece.
“OK, Maria, listen up… I’m going to pan the camera from right to left. First, I’ll show the Triana side of the river and then I’ll finish up with an American shot. You enter as soon as I start to move. Got it?”
“Yep, got it. Let’s try to get this nonsense over with so that we can finish for the day,” Luces grumbled in annoyance.
“Maria, focus. Work is work. It can’t all be front page news. You’ve got to be more patient,” Domínguez shook his head.
“I know, I know… You’re right. You know me, always too hasty…”
Domínguez raised his hand to his earpiece and concentrated on his instructions. Luces put hers in her ear. She had forgotten to put it back after fixing her hair.
“Get ready, we’re on in ten seconds,” Domínguez began to count.
Passers-by threw them curious glances but didn’t stop, either out of embarrassment or because they didn’t want to ruin the broadcast. Luces grasped her microphone and held it in position with her right hand, ready to speak. Domínguez gestured to say that they were going live. He turned the camera so that viewers would be shown a view of Triana neighbourhood. The camera panned across San Telmo Bridge, the Guadalquivir, the Torre del Oro and the Cathedral topped by the Giraldillo statue. It finally came to a stop on Luces, who had the city centre behind her. As soon as he began to move the camera, Luces launched into her opening speech.
“Good evening, Spain! I’m Maria Luces, reporting from Seville. This evening, I’m talking to you from Isabel II Bridge. As you can see, Triana is over on the far side of the river and I have the historic centre of Seville behind me.” She began to say just as Carlos began the horizontal camera movement.
Luces stared straight into the camera with a winning smile, as if each and every one of the viewers was standing right in front of her. It might hurt her pride to be sentenced to covering trifling news and events, but she was still determined to give it her best. Domínguez raised his head from the viewfinder and looked at Luces, giving her a thumbs up to say she looked great.
“Today we’re here to talk about—” Luces continued, when suddenly a deafening roar interrupted her broadcast. Luces whipped her head around to the right to see what was causing the noise.
“What the…?”
All of a sudden, Luces, Domínguez and the camera were shaken by two air force F-18 fighter jets racing past at low altitude, practically skimming their heads. The aircraft were flying so fast their eyes could barely keep up with them; they watched as the aeroplanes followed the course of the river before suddenly pulling upwards. The two jets were flying in formation, one slightly ahead of the other. Luces couldn’t believe what had just happened but she certainly wasn’t going to freeze up now. She was live. The whole of Spain was watching her.
“Carlos, quick! Stay on them!” she shouted, trying to compose herself.
Domínguez quickly span the camera around and tried to focus on the two military aircraft. Still shaking, he managed to catch them in his sights and filmed them until they disappeared from view. Luces snapped her fingers to grab his attention and Domínguez quickly turned the camera back on her. She mouthed a question to him, asking whether he had managed to catch the fighter jets on film. Domínguez nodded.
“I hope everyone watching at home saw what we just saw. Something extraordinary just happened. Two air force fighter jets just flew right over our heads and…” Luces began to explain to viewers but was cut off by two explosions that were immediately followed by a further two shocking blasts. Luces turned to her left and looked up into the sky. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Viewers at home saw her expression change to one of pure horror.
“Oh my God! The aeroplanes… They just exploded!”
Domínguez quickly whirled around and tried to focus on what Luces was pointing at. Then he saw it too. The flaming remains of the two aircraft tumbling earthwards at top speed.
“They’re falling in balls of flames!” Luces shouted in alarm.
Domínguez turned back to his reporter again. He knew that it would be impossible to keep the image focused on the two burning aeroplanes. Luces continued to stare at the disaster, open-mouthed.
“I don’t know what’s going on… There’s a disaster unfolding here in Seville. Let’s try to…” she started to say, trying to keep her composure. She had to remain professional.
She was interrupted by another great boom. This time it was so powerful that both she and Domínguez almost lost their balance and he almost dropped the camera. Luces gathered herself and tried to work out the source of this latest explosion. It didn’t take long.
“Oh God! It’s impossible! Film it, Carlos! The bridge!” Luces was beside herself, unable to describe what her eyes were seeing.
Following her orders, Domínguez was horrified to see what had happened. A huge explosion had erupted on San Telmo bridge and part of it had collapsed. Strange green flames flickered over the rubble and black smoke started to wind its way upwards.
“It’s San Telmo bridge! It’s just been blown up! What on earth’s going on⁈”
Back at the Production Department, the crew was struck by panic and disbelief. Ana Fernández was firing off instructions to Luces and Domínguez through their earpieces but they didn’t respond. Perhaps they couldn’t hear. Domínguez focused on Luces again. She was staring at the bridge and trembling all over. Suddenly, something else caught her eye. She turned to face Domínguez and the camera, her face pale. She pointed up to the sky.
“This can’t be happening… Carlos, do you see that up there?” she said.
Domínguez panned the camera upwards, pointing it towards the sky.
“What the hell—?” he murmured.
Domínguez struggled to focus the lens properly, contending with both the distance and his sense of disbelief. He had to blink hard several times. Surely this couldn’t be real? His fingers trembled nervously on the controls; he had never been so terrified in his life. He breathed in and out slowly to calm his nerves and tried again. Just when he had finally succeeded in focusing the camera, there was a huge blast nearby and Domínguez and Luces were both knocked senseless.
Viewers at home and the Production team in the studio had seen the same sequence of events. The fuzzy image on screen finally becoming sharp and momentarily offering anyone watching a glimpse of a strange, elongated object flying high above the city. Then the screen had gone blank.
The image had turned to static and a simple message had appeared: ‘Connection lost’. Reactions to the broadcast were unequivocal; it inspired fear, anxiety and panic. Immediately after its transmission, telephone networks jammed across the country.
37º 10’ 69” North, 5º 36’ 24” West
Morón Air Base Command Centre, Seville
20:50 GMT+1
The Command Centre couldn’t believe what was happening. President Alonso was locked in a debate with his ministers. Preston was replaying the last thirty seconds filmed by Serpent 1-1 and 1-2 again and again, Colonel Hidalgo at his side. General Echevarría had a telephone firmly grasped in his hand and was barking orders left and right. It was hard to digest the latest turn of events.
Everything had been going as planned. The two F-18s had succeeded in approaching the target undetected. Once they had reached Seville, they had pulled sharply upwards to surprise 2012 UA on its lower vertical side. The fighter jets had armed their Sidewinder missiles, each launching one missile at the object when they were less than two miles away. The missiles reached their target in barely three seconds’ time and both exploded. But nothing had happened. The blasts had merely bounced off what appeared to be some sort of force field. Then, before they knew it, two flashes had shot out of 2012 UA and all communications with Serpent 1-1 and 1-2 had instantly been lost. When the NATO AWACS confirmed five minutes later that the fighter jets had been shot down, no one was surprised. This time there were no other possible explanations. No alternatives. Two courageous US Air Force pilots had just lost their lives and there had been nothing they had been able to do to stop it. Preston was turning their predicament over and over in his mind, now convinced that things were only going to get worse. To his deepest regret, the update that followed only confirmed his fears.
“General Echevarría, the observation units are reporting multiple attacks on Seville. After shooting down our Serpent units, 2012 UA has destroyed or seriously damaged all the city’s bridges,” the comms officer began to report.
“Get the link with the observations unit at the Mirador del Aljarafe up on the screen,” General Echevarría needed to clarify what happened.
Everyone fixed their eyes on what the unit had filmed, watching as the terrifying invader unleashed what appeared to be plasma bolts on the city. First, they struck the Quinto Centenario Bridge; it was rocked by two vast explosions and burst into greenish flames before collapsing. A wave of horror ran through the room as each person calculated the number of lives that had been lost in that one location alone. The bridge was always packed with rush-hour traffic at that time of day. Similar scenes were repeated across Seville’s bridges; they were all partially or completely destroyed. The recording ended, switching to President Alonso again.
“General Echevarría, what the hell is going on there?” President Alonso felt a great helplessness as he tried to control his panic.
“We don’t know, Mr President. All we know for sure is that 2012 UA is clearly hostile. It’s launched an attack on Seville. So far, it’s cut off the main thoroughfares through the city. This is deeply disturbing, to say the least,” General Echevarría tried not to lose his firmness of spirit.
“Why do you say that?” President Alonso didn't want any more bad news.
“Because if 2012 UA—” General Echevarría was suddenly interrupted.
“Excuse me, General. You have to see this,” the communications officer said, putting up a live feed of Seville on the videoconference screen.
Everyone watched as the city trembled under the force of several greenish blasts. The observation unit at the Mirador del Aljarafe contacted them.
“Sir, after two minutes with no activity, the object has restarted its attack. It looks like it’s randomly striking the largest buildings in the city. So far, we can confirm that a number of pavilions in La Cartuja have been hit plus the cathedral bell tower. There’s also been a blast at the Torre Pelli. Our unit there isn’t responding,” the soldier reported nervously.
“This is going to be a massacre… We have to do something! Mr President, you’ve got to order a full mobilisation of the army,” General Echevarría felt increasingly overwhelmed.
President Alonso watched the live images and then glanced back at General Echevarría, noting his drawn, pale face. The general seemed to have aged ten years in a matter of minutes.
“You’re right. There’s no other choice. This is an emergency. I’m going to declare a state of siege and the full mobilisation of our troops. The civilian population of Seville must be saved!” He exclaimed energetically, after taking a deep breath and gathering strength.
“Mr President, I’m afraid that won’t be enough,” Preston interrupted.
“What do you mean, not enough? Lieutenant General Gómez, what available forces do we have that can intervene in the shortest time possible?” President Alonso asked, turning to the Chief of the Defence Staff who was sitting on his right.
“We’ve got two Eurofighter squadrons at the Morón base. Plus two F-35 squadrons, one at Rota and the other deployed on the Juan Carlos I, currently positioned in the Strait of Gibraltar. These air units can act immediately. As back-up, we’ve got three F-18 squadrons at the Torrejón de Ardoz and Zaragoza bases and two Mirage F1 squadrons in Albacete. The closest army unit is the ‘Alejandro Farnesio’ division of the Legion based at Ronda in Malaga province. Two hundred legionnaires are already on their way to Seville by helicopter. Eight hundred more are on alert and can be deployed within an hour. Then there’s the ‘Guzmán el Bueno’ 10th Mechanised Infantry Brigade, quartered at Cerro Muriano in Córdoba province. In total that gives us over five thousand soldiers and nearly two hundred light vehicles and tanks. They can be here in two to three hours,” Lieutenant General Gómez read the information on his tablet.
“Do you really think that won’t be enough, Lieutenant Colonel Preston?” President Alonso seemed unhinged at times.
“Mr President, we’re facing an unrivalled enemy. Its technology and firepower vastly exceed our own and I’m worried that—” Preston wanted to try to be able to convey what his intuition was telling him.
“Sir, something new is happening!” came an alarmed voice from the observation unit. “Objects! They’re coming out of 2012 UA… Look!”
Just as the observation unit described, around two dozen small objects had started to emerge from 2012 UA. Some began to circle over Seville while others headed to each main route into the city. The observation unit were unable to see them clearly from their position, but one thing was certain. They had never seen anything like them before.
“They look like some type of smaller aircraft, like our fighter jets,” Colonel Hidalgo could not believe what he was seeing.
“This is what I meant, President Alonso. It’s as I suspected… 2012 UA is like one of our aircraft carriers,” Preston voice was mournful.
“This makes things considerably worse,” General Echevarría looked at him, nodding gravely.
“Are you saying we can’t fight off this threat? We should just let the people of Seville die?” President Alonso asked, indignant.
“No, Mr President, of course not. I mean that the Spanish Air Force alone won’t be enough. Our response needs to be as emphatic as possible if we’re going to stand a chance of saving the city,” Preston looked straight at him.
“So, what do you propose, Preston?” President Alonso was exasperated.
“You need to activate the Claymore Protocol,” Preston declared. Everyone stared at him in astonishment.
“The Claymore Protocol? What’s that?” He looked around disconcerted.
“Mr President, let me explain,” General Gómez interrupted. “The Claymore Protocol is an agreement all NATO allies signed two years ago. It states that, in the event of a massive strike that could seriously endanger the safety and stability of a nation under attack, this country can request immediate back-up forces from its allies. It bypasses the need for approval by their respective parliaments.”
“So no one has ever used it before?”
“No, Mr President. But I can’t think of a more suitable or more urgent situation than the one we’re facing now. It was drawn up with an entirely different type of threat in mind, but I agree with Lieutenant Colonel Preston… We’re going to need all the help we can get. And as soon as possible,” General Gómez had never imagined that he would have to face a situation where such a protocol would be necessary.
“What about the media? Are they on to it yet?”
The home affairs minister cut in. “Mr President, the state channel had a reporter on one of the bridges at the precise moment it was hit. By now the whole country has seen live images. Every channel is broadcasting breaking news reports about the attack. The ‘#SevilleDisaster hashtag has just become the number one trending topic on Twitter in Spain. Our PR Department is under fire, people want answers. We need to explain our position. And unsurprisingly, mobile phone networks are completely swamped across the whole metropolitan area of Seville.”
“Damn! This is getting out of control. Draw up an urgent press release. I’m going to address the nation. I have to explain what’s going on. And tell the people that we’re doing everything in our power to sort this out.”
“Very good, Mr President,” the home affairs minister replied.
“Fine. Very well, gentlemen. I’m going to declare a state of siege and activate the Claymore Protocol. I’m ordering a full mobilisation of our troops. Seville must be saved, whatever the cost. Now shoot those things down! Understood?” President Alonso ordered decisively.
“Yes, Mr President. We won’t let the country down,” General Echevarría clenched his fists tightly.
Once President Alonso had disappeared, the defence minister informed the Command Centre that an urgent videoconference had been called with Spain’s allies. They were going to formally request that the Claymore Protocol be activated in ten minutes’ time. Everyone sprang into a frenzy of activity, firing off orders and making urgent calls to mobilise all available troops. Colonel Hidalgo bid everyone a solemn farewell; he needed to prepare the forthcoming operation and his pilots had to take off as soon as possible. They would be the first to arrive on the scene.
Colonel Hidalgo invited Preston to join him but as soon as he agreed, General Echevarría interrupted. “Preston, where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m taking a Eurofighter up with my team. We’ll be of more use up there than down here, General,” Preston felt a fierce determination.
“I can’t authorise that. You’re here as an observer and advisor. I can’t let you put your life in danger,” General Echevarría said, shaking his head.
“Sir, if I’m not mistaken, you need more pilots. The members of your squadrons who were off duty have been trapped in the city. Besides, I need to see the enemy with my own eyes… That way I can better advise you on what tactics to use. It’s impossible for me to do that from down here. As you said, I’m here as an observer. To give you advice. I need to be on the front line to be able to form a more accurate opinion,” Preston’s words sounded firm and forceful.
“If I let you go up in one of our planes, you’ll be breaching both US and Spanish regulations…”
“I know, General. But people are dying in Seville. We don’t know if this is the start of an invasion or a larger scale attack. No one’s safe. I honestly think that if there’s the slightest chance of helping to defeat those things, it’s worth the risk. I’m not going to stand around here with my arms folded. Remember, when all’s said and done, I’m a combat pilot.”
“Fine, point taken… Colonel Hidalgo, do we have any spare planes for Preston and his team?” General Echevarría sighed, resigned.
“Yes sir, part of the squadron is trapped in the city. They’re trying to reach the base but we don’t know how long they’ll take to get here. I’ve just spoken to the head engineer and I think we can lend Preston some Eurofighters. Two single-seaters and one two-seater.”
“OK, then so be it. Lieutenant Colonel Preston can take our planes up. But you’ll be under Commander Aguilera’s command. I don’t want you taking part in direct combat. You’re there to observe. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. Thanks for trusting me,” Preston said gratefully.
“And one last thing,” General Echevarría stopped him.
“Yes, General?”
“Don’t even think about dying, Preston.” He stared at him with admiration.
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to,” Preston said heading out through the door.
General Echevarría watched him leave with the torn expression of someone who has had to send too many good men to their deaths.