Syren's Song by Claude G. Berube

We thought their defeat in 2009 had ended the insurrection. Our intelligence service had no indication of their plans. We received a warning that they would attack our harbors, so we closed them to traffic. We set our quarantine area, and our warships were on alert. I was not at sea,” he explained. “I was assigned to headquarters as an aide to the admiral coordinating the defense.”
    Stark offered him a cup of coffee and a bottle of water, both of which the officer took. He set the coffee down and took a sip of the water before continuing. “One of our warships reported increased chatter on the radio—far above normal. Then everything cut out. Everything , Captain,” he emphasized. “We lost communication with our entire fleet. Then we lost communication with our offices in Colombo, Galle, and Trincomalee. We don’t know much about what happened next other than eyewitness accounts from civilians. People in each city reported small fireworks in the harbors and then everything went dead. Cars, phones, radios. Anything with electronics.”
    â€œAh, yeah, uh-huh,” Jay said, nodding.
    â€œThe portions of the cities closest to the port were in chaos,” the Sri Lankan continued. “Our ships were dead in the water. And then the small boats came. Some were suicide boats, armed with some sort of high-explosive device. They simply rammed our dead warships and destroyed them. There were very few survivors in our fleet.” Ranasinghe paused again to drink some water.
    â€œThe situation is far worse than the media know, Captain Stark. Some of our military aircraft crashed as well. We suspect that the Tigers are still based somewhere in the northeast, but after the attacks they warned us that they could down any plane, stop any tank, and sink any ship we sent to the area. Our army and air force would normally go after them, but the Tigers proved so capable in striking our navy that my government is being cautious in deciding how best to move against them.”
    â€œJay,” Stark said, turning to the misfit technology expert, “you have an idea about this?”
    â€œYeah, boss, and it’s not good. Sounds like EMPs—a lot of them.”
    The Sri Lankan officer shook his head at the acronym.
    â€œElectromagnetic pulses,” Warren enumerated. “Bad shit, man. Fries fucking everything electronic.”
    The officer seemed to understand the scientist’s colloquialisms.
    â€œJay, I’ve never heard of an EMP actually being used as a weapon,” Stark commented.
    â€œNeither have I, but a lot of folks have been thinking it was just a matter of time. And here it is. But we need to find out what kind of pulses they used. There are a few options, but it takes a lot of knowledge. Not just anyone could come up with this sort of thing. And how an insurgent group—”
    â€œTerrorists, Dr. Warren,” Ranasinghe interrupted. “The Tamil Tigers are terrorists, not insurgents. What they did to my navy—that was terrorism.”
    â€œYeah, okay, sorry.” Warren raised his hands in surrender. “What I’m saying is that this takes a very high level of sophistication—something most home-grown terrorist groups don’t have.”
    â€œSo you think they had outside help, Jay?” Stark asked.
    â€œMost likely. They’d need knowledge, sophisticated equipment, and a way to experiment and test it. And they’d need the raw materials.”
    â€œWhat kind of raw materials?” asked Olivia Harrison.
    Warren shrugged. “Depends. I need to do some testing. If we can get to Trincomalee just for a few hours I can run some tests with my equipment.”
    â€œCommander, what was the effective range of those EMPs?” Stark asked.
    â€œWe believe it was between three quarters of a mile to a mile in diameter.”
    â€œWhat did they use for a launching platform?” Warren asked.
    â€œWe don’t