The Attack

Posted on Tue Jan 7th, 2025 @ 8:55pm by Colonel Silas Hunter

1,820 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Towers of the Void (Series Premiere)
Location: Fort Myer, Joint Base Myer-Henderson Hall, Arlington, VA
Timeline: July 24, 2024

The sun was low in the sky as Colonel Silas Hunter turned his car into the main gate of Fort Myer, the quiet hum of the engine underscoring his thoughts. The summer heat lingered even in the late afternoon, casting long shadows across the base as soldiers moved through their daily routines. This was familiar ground for Silas. Over the years, he’d been to Fort Myer countless times on official business, but something about today felt different.

As he approached the checkpoint, the young MP on duty saluted sharply, his crisp uniform and attentive posture embodying the discipline Fort Myer was known for.

“Evening, Colonel,” the MP said as Silas rolled down the window.

“Evening,” Silas replied, returning the salute. “Everything running smooth tonight?”

“Routine as ever, sir. Welcome back to Fort Myer.”

Silas nodded, driving past the gates and into the heart of the base. The familiar sights greeted him: the stately buildings of Henderson Hall, the well-maintained parade grounds, and the steady activity that defined military life. Fort Myer, with its history and proximity to the nation’s capital, had always been a hub of importance—a place where tradition and readiness intertwined.

Parking near the headquarters building, Silas grabbed his briefcase and stepped out, the late-day breeze ruffling his uniform. His visit today was standard business: meetings, paperwork, and a briefing about a potential shift in operations across the capital region. Nothing urgent, but nothing to be taken lightly either.

Inside the headquarters, Silas was greeted by his longtime colleague and friend, Major Rebecca Marsh, who was always assigned to him when he arrived on base. She saluted with a smile as she approached.

“Welcome back, sir. How’s the wife?” she asked.

“Good, thank you. She sends her appreciation for those baked Independence Day cookies you made.”

“Always happy to help,” Marsh said. “Just let me know when she wants more.” She handed Silas a slim folder, her tone shifting to business. “Thought you might want an update before tomorrow’s briefing.”

“Always appreciate being ahead of the curve,” Silas replied, accepting the folder.

They walked together through the corridors, the hum of air conditioning and distant conversations creating a background of calm that belied the growing unease in the world outside. Silas opened the folder, scanning the latest updates on cybersecurity concerns and reports of strange anomalies in defense systems.

“These malfunctions… they’re not isolated, are they?” Silas asked, his brow furrowing.

“No, sir,” Marsh admitted. “Similar reports are coming in from other bases and the Pentagon. Communications interruptions, system errors, even some equipment activating without human input. Command thinks it might be cyberattacks, but no one’s sure yet.”

“Cyberattacks,” Silas muttered, shaking his head. “Could be, but it feels bigger than that.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Brigadier General Alan Grayson, the base’s commanding officer. Grayson, a no-nonsense leader in his mid-50s, extended a hand to Silas.

“Hunter. Good to see you,” Grayson said.

“You too, General,” Silas replied. “Heard you’ve been running this place like a well-oiled machine.”

Grayson chuckled. “It’s Fort Myer. The heart of the Old Guard doesn’t have the luxury of running any other way.”

The three of them shared a brief laugh before heading into a small conference room for an evening meeting with other senior officers.

The meeting stretched into the evening, covering everything from regional readiness to the growing unease about the reported malfunctions. By the time Silas stepped out into the night air, the base had settled into its usual rhythm. Floodlights illuminated the parade grounds, and the faint sounds of soldiers training in the distance carried on the breeze.

Silas made his way to his temporary quarters, a modest room in the officer’s barracks. Dropping his briefcase on the desk, he removed his uniform jacket and sat heavily on the bed. He loosened his tie and leaned back, his thoughts drifting to his wife, Melissa. They’d spoken briefly earlier in the day, and he’d promised to be home by the weekend.

He reached for his phone to send her a goodnight text, but the device displayed “No Signal” in the corner. Frowning, he set it aside. It wasn’t unusual for the base to have spotty service, but combined with the day’s discussions, it left him with an uneasy feeling.

After a quick shower, Silas sat at the desk, flipping through personnel reports and operational plans. He’d developed a habit over the years of preparing for the next day’s meetings the night before. It was his way of staying sharp. But tonight, he found it hard to focus. Something about the reports—about the malfunctions, the unexplained anomalies—nagged at him.

Shaking off the feeling, he finally turned in for the night. The base was quiet, save for the distant hum of a generator and the occasional call of a sentry.

July 25, 2024 | Fort Myer, Joint Base Myer-Henderson Hall, Arlington, VA.

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as Colonel Silas Hunter stood in front of his bathroom mirror, tightening his uniform collar. The reflection that stared back at him was one of a seasoned officer—brown eyes sharp and deliberate, a touch of gray at the temples adding weight to the authority he carried. Today was meant to be another day of routine, filled with briefings, inspections, and planning.

By 8:00 a.m., Silas was seated in the base’s officer mess hall with Major Marsh. The two had found a quiet corner away from the clatter of trays and the hum of early morning conversation. Silas nursed a cup of black coffee while Marsh picked at her eggs, her focus on the tablet in her hands.

“You’ve been quiet, Major,” Silas said, glancing at her over his coffee.

Marsh frowned and set the tablet down. “Sir, the reports aren’t making sense. More anomalies overnight—systems locking up, drones activating briefly without orders, and now Andrews is reporting outages in their satellite network.”

Silas raised an eyebrow. “That’s the third base this week reporting similar issues with the satellites. Any word from Cyberdyne on what’s causing it? Have they traced the source or can they tell us anything?”

“Not yet,” Marsh replied, shaking her head. “And the comms with their tech team have been… intermittent at best.”

Silas leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing. “It’s not adding up. One or two issues I can write off as bugs, but this many? Across multiple installations?” He let the thought hang in the air before continuing. “Keep pushing. I want to know if anyone at Cyberdyne or at the Pentagon taking this seriously.”

“Yes, sir,” Marsh replied, though her tone carried the same unease that Silas felt.

By 8:45 a.m., the two had finished breakfast and headed to the officer’s conference rooms prepare themselves on the day’s briefings. But for Silas, the feeling of something larger lurking just out of sight continued to gnaw at him, a quiet harbinger of the chaos that was only hours away.

At 9:30 a.m., Hunter and Marsh were still in the conference room getting ready for the meetings when suddenly the hum of Fort Myer’s operations came to an abrupt halt. The lights flickered and died. The faint sound of the air conditioning unit faded into silence, replaced by a brief, disconcerting stillness. Then, the emergency lights clicked on, bathing the room in an unsettling red glow.

His phone buzzed once and then went dead. When he checked the desktop computer in the room, the screen was dark, unresponsive.

Within seconds, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the hallway outside. Silas stepped out of the conference room and saw officers and staff about the hallways not knowing what to do. Some conversing amongst themselves as to what was going on. Silas stepped back in, “Marsh, do you have anything for me?”

Marsh took out her device and started to search. After a moment, “All systems are down, sir,” Marsh said. “Power, communications, everything. The backup generators are holding some essentials, but we’re essentially blind.”

“Just us, or other bases too?”

“Unknown,” Marsh replied, her voice tight.

Silas’s gut tightened. “Alright. Get the engineers on restoring power. I want patrols around the perimeter and a headcount of all key personnel. And find me General Grayson.”

“We’ve been trying to reach him, but no one knows where he is,” Marsh admitted. “His last known location was near the motor pool this morning.”

“Keep looking. If you find him, patch him through to me immediately,” Silas said. “In the meantime, let’s boot up the command center. We need answers.”

By 9:50a.m., the command center started to become a hive of activity. Officers and technicians worked frantically under the dim emergency lighting, their voices blending into a chaotic hum of status updates and troubleshooting attempts. The staff needed to be summoned manually and by word of mouth. Pagers, radios, and phones did not work.

Silas stood at the center of it all his presence commanding but calm. But he was concerned. “Status?” he demanded, addressing the base engineer.

“Sir, the main grid is completely unresponsive,” the engineer replied. “Generators are stable for now, but we’ve lost all external comms and satellite links. We’re running diagnostics, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the whole network just… vanished.”

“What about the Pentagon? Have we been able to raise anyone there?” Silas asked, glancing at Marsh.

“No, sir,” she said grimly. “Not a word.”

Silas crossed his arms, his mind racing. The patterns were too deliberate to be a simple malfunction. But if it wasn’t technical, then what?

At precisely 10:00 a.m., a new sound shattered the uneasy quiet: the unmistakable whine of engines overhead.

Silas was just about to address the staff again when one of the technicians shouted, “Sir! We’ve got unidentified drones in the air above the base!”

The words sent a ripple of alarm through the room. Silas rushed outside, flanked by Marsh and several junior officers. His eyes scanned the sky, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Hunter-Killer drones.

They moved like predators, their sleek metallic forms cutting through the air with terrifying precision. There were at least five of them, their plasma cannons glowing faintly as they descended into tighter formations above the base.

“Everyone underground” Silas barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Major, get the back up command center up and running, now!”

“Yes, sir!” Marsh replied, running off to relay the orders.

The drones broke formation, their cannons charging with an ominous blue light. Seconds later, a fiery blasts began to erupt all over the base sending vehicles flying and soldiers diving for cover. The explosions was deafening, and the shockwaves rippled across the base.

Judgment Day had begun.

 

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