Read Scrapyard Ship 7: Call to Battle for Free Online Page B

North Korea. Who, exactly, was he dealing with? What he soon discovered was sobering: The country seemed one of the most miserable places on the planet to exist; most of the population had no flushing toilets and survived on less than ten dollars a month. Meat is considered a luxury item. Children stunted in growth from malnutrition are commonplace, while the ruling dictator has an estimated personal wealth of one hundred billion dollars—of course, all kept in secret accounts outside his wretched country.
    Jason continued to read about North Korea. He shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more deprivation for its citizenry. No, it was its leadership he needed to have a one-on-one with, this Kim Jong Un. “What’s the local time here, Orion?”
    “Zero five-thirty, Cap.”
    Jason changed his search parameters, now looking to see where the leader’s residence was located. “Huh, well, there’s this Kumsusan Palace of the Sun …sometimes called Kim Jong Un Palace ,” he said.
    “That looks like quite a place,” Orion said out loud. She’d joined him at his side and was reading over his shoulder. There was a picture of the palace. “Wow, no need to worry about finding sufficient parking space for the fleet,” she said.
    The palace and its grounds were immense.
    “Looks like Kim Jong Un has multiple residences … who knows where the little squirrel is hiding out. We have to start somewhere. Helm, take us to Pyongyang— Kumsusan Palace of the Sun .”
    “Aye, Cap,” McBride answered.
    “And take us back down to a thousand feet.”
    “Aye, Cap.”
    The overhead display zoomed in on the landscape moving below them. Currently, they were passing over building after building of tightly grouped apartment dwellings. All looked the same—in the same state of grimy decrepitude. The landscape opened up and several small farms appeared. Workers began running, scattering in all directions, apparently terrified by what must seem tantamount to an alien invasion. Others, crouching low, stopped working to observe the spectacle above. Eventually, they would notice the U.S. flag emblems on the warships’ undercarriages and then know exactly where the vessels came from.
    “Pyongyang, sir. The palace is on the display ahead.”
    Jason was back on his feet and watched as the large, marble-sided and square-ish three-tiered structure came into view. Whereas the image he’d seen earlier, on his virtual notepad, showed acres and acres of open space at the palace’s front quad, now a uniformed army of at least ten thousand green and red coated men awaited. Tanks and batteries of artillery were poised to fire from the structure’s east side.
    “Nowhere to land, sir,” McBride said.
    Jason continued to watch in silence. He nodded his head, as if coming to some sort of mental decision. “Have the fleet positioned right over them. We’ll need all this space. Make sure the fleet commanders understand they are to bring their vessels down slowly. Those below who are too slow or stupid to move away will quickly find themselves dead.”
    “Aye, Cap,” McBride answered, then began talking on comms to the other ships.
    Ground fire below initiated everywhere: from soldiers’ automatic weapons, to tank and mortar munitions. In unison, the warships began to descend. Even from close to one thousand feet aloft, thruster heat hitting the ground would be extreme. As expected, the regiments of North Korea ran—the soldiers who’d waited too long, or had followed orders not to abandon their positions, came into contact with the vessels’ virtually-impregnable lower shields. More than a few soldiers were crushed as the fleet of ships settled onto solid ground.
    Jason hailed Billy.
    “Go for Billy.”
    “Got your team assembled, ready to deploy?”
    “We’re at the forward airlock.”
    “I’m on my way,” Jason said. “XO, keep me apprised of any developments.”
    “Aye, Cap,” Orion replied, taking the command