The Mighty First, Episode 2 Read online

  The horror of the occupation was at last over for Jenny and Weiss. It was only in the beginning stages for Minerva and her cadre.

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  Oklahoma

  Dropping south into the Free Zone had been easier than Jeff expected it to be. The Storian Field Marshall in command of that region had been expecting his arrival on the Kansas side of the line, and refreshed him with food and drink. After a day’s rest, he was smuggled across the demilitarized zone into the Free Zone and told how to approach the American forces there.

  He wandered on foot, pretending to be a refugee. There were a number of them at any given time, people who had managed to escape the Occupied lands and sought asylum. Jeff was treated as any other and taken to an intake facility in Oklahoma City. He refused medical treatment, not wanting to reveal the Device implanted on his back, but was enthusiastic when introduced to the placement officer--- whose job it was to help refugees reach friends or family in the Free Zone.

  “My home is in Winslow, Arizona, “Jeff stated with a big smile.

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  GNN Headquarters

  Los Angeles, California

  Anchorwoman Lisa McClain was in the editing room, reviewing the latest feeds that had come in from the Ohio Front, shaking her head sadly as she did so. She was happy that the Storians were still on the retreat--- that in itself was hopeful, but the high cost falling on the Marine Corps was a disheartening one.

  Tom Thomas entered the booth, breathing heavily from climbing the stairs that led from the lower hall, clasping a manila envelope in one beefy hand. He took the seat next to her, the thing creaking in protest at his lumbering form, and gave her one of his infamous smiles. He was up to something.

  “Whatcha got for me?” Lisa asked wearily, trying to sound interested.

  Thomas placed the envelope on the sound board in front of her and patted it lovingly, “Your ticket to stardom, my dear.”

  She looked at it, then at him with suspicion, “What are you up to, Tom?”

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  “Look at it,” he told her.

  Lisa opened the envelope and studied the papers within it. They were military-type travel orders with a bunch of abbreviated legalese, including a waiver of liability.

  “The Network is sending you to cover the Mighty First in person,” Thomas announced. “We already have camera crews embedded with them, but having you there to report on the daily action, is going to be golden! Just golden!”

  She nodded, “I’m actually glad to go, but not for the sake of your ratings. It would be very humbling to actually meet these kids in person.”

  Thomas chuckled, looking at her condescendingly, “You people…”

  Lisa froze, regarding him with new-found hatred, “What’s that supposed to mean, you people? Does my being an educated black woman intimidate you?”

  Thomas back-tracked, “I didn’t mean it like that, take it easy.”

  The anchorwoman snatched up the folder and started for

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  the door, “I need to pack. Goodbye and good riddance, Tom Thomas!”

  Thomas let out a breath and watched the cuts of the news feed on the screens. He inwardly hoped that the woman would step on a land mine or something.

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  Lisa had very little time to pack and find a ride to L.A. International Spaceport. By the time she got there and found the military terminal, it was already time for her flight to depart. Luckily, the flight crew had been notified to expect her and opted to wait. It was a C-130 type cargo shuttle, packed to the gills with equipment heading for the front. The loadmaster helped her to get situated and stowed her carry-on bag among the vast stores secured around them. Her seat was just a canvas net attached to the hull, and she joined a dozen others that were already reclining there.

  In less than half an hour, they were in the air and on their

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  way for the first stop-over in Dallas. The others there with her were officers, all trauma surgeons that had been recruited from various hospitals, willing to volunteer to serve in Mobile Army Hospital units that followed the line divisions. The hospital ships up in orbit were being overwhelmed with the recent flow of casualties, not only from the Marines, but also the Army and Allied Nations forces fighting on the other fronts.

  The others recognized her from the news programs and treated Lisa well, even asking for autographs. When she told them where she was going and why, their enthusiasm soared. She had become a trusted national icon, and the thought of having her representing the Armed Forces was a welcome one.

  Later in the flight, while talking to one of the doctors, she wondered aloud, “How are we going to reach the line units without crossing enemy-held airspace?”

  The man seemed unconcerned, “Oh, it’s easy,” he drawled, “We just have to go about it in a round-about fashion. The Army will fly us to Texas, where we’ll switch to a Marine Corps shuttle that will take us on the last leg up to Pennsylvania, which is still in

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  the Free Zone. Then we’ll fly into the Liberated Zone via gunship, or maybe on a Blackhawk, and they’ll catch up to the regiment from behind, so we’ll never actually be in a danger zone. Not until we meet up with the battalions, anyway.”

  “How long will it take us to get there?” She wanted to know.

  The doctor shrugged, “That’s anybody’s guess. Depends on how things go. At least several hours, to be sure.”

  Lisa nodded and settled back into the harness, trying to relax. It was going to be a long journey, and she wanted to be as rested as possible, but there was no denying the excitement mixed with fear that dwelled inside of her. As much as Tom Thomas was an annoying little turd, he had actually given her exactly the very opportunity that she had wanted, even if inadvertently. She would at last be in a position to give the 1st Battalion the truer recognition that it deserved.

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  New Bedford, Pennsylvania

  10:30 PM

  By the time Lisa had arrived at the garrison, she was wearied to the point of feeling half-drunk. Her thoughts were sluggish and things seemed to be moving just a tad too slow. A trooper whose name and rank escaped her provided a ride from the flight line into town, where he deposited her before a Holiday Inn.

  “The clerk already has a room waiting for you,” The marine told her, handing over the backpack that she had brought. “Someone will pick you up at seven in the lobby, so eat early.”

  Lisa nodded her thanks and waved as he drove away. She stood there for a moment and took in the view. The streets were utterly deserted, the night silent. It was muggy and overcast, everything wet from recent rain. She resolved to get to her room, take a shower, and slip into the sheets, knowing that this might be her last opportunity to do so for a long time.

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  The next morning, she was waiting outside, clad in jeans with a rugged outdoorsy kind of shirt, and well-worn boots--- ready for life in the field. Her backpack was filled with sundries that she felt might be needed. An open-top jeep pulled up right on time, and she was whisked back to the airfield. The driver pointed at a Huey gunship, “That’s your ride, Ma’am.”

  Lisa realized that the doctors from the previous day were nowhere to be seen and inquired about them. The driver only shrugged, “I just know that you’re heading out with the gunship pilot. It’s safer.”

  She accepted that and hurried over, not really knowing what to expect. It was a total surprise when an Attayan female stepped around from the other side of the Huey-shuttle, clad in a flight suit, evidently conducting a check of the weapons racks.

  “I assume you’re Miss Hayden?” The furry wom
an asked, smiling kindly.

  Lisa smiled back, “Yes, you don’t recognize me?” She winced inwardly, realizing that must have sounded pretty arrogant.

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  The pilot seemed not to have taken it that way, “Don’t get to watch much TV,” she replied, extending a hand. “I’m Rose. Are you ready to head out?”

  “Can’t wait, actually,” She answered, accepting the greeting and shaking firmly.

  Rose climbed up into the cockpit and indicated where Lisa should put her toes in the hull to follow. There was just enough space inside for two people with her pack stuffed under her feet. The pilot pulled the canopy down and it locked into place. She put her flight helmet on and began touching controls, bringing the craft to life. Within a minute, they were gliding up into the air and sailing over the trees, heading west.

  “Would you like to see the path that the battalion has followed so far?” Rose asked, her voice raised over the engine noise.

  Lisa nodded yes, “That’d be great, thank you!” She unzipped her pack and took out a small camcorder to film the scenery below.

  They first passed over the ruins of the Wall, where the

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  D-Day landing had been initiated, and then the liberated town of Hubbard, which was already rebuilding. Cruising south-west, the flight over Youngstown was more profound. The destruction of that city had been near-total. Rose circled once, then veered due west. In just over an hour, they were coming up on Akron, and were able to see the bird’s eye view of the artillery damage, the following ground battle evidence, and the collapsed sections of freeway where Storian demolition teams had set traps for the approaching Marines.

  “We’re almost caught up to the regiment,” Rose mentioned. “They---oh, wait a second.”

  The pilot had been distracted by something she had spotted on the ground, and brought the Huey around, circling a line of boxcars on a rail spur. A rocket suddenly lanced out from inside the open boxcar door and whooshed past them, frighteningly close. Rose jerked the Huey sideways and squeezed the trigger. The cockpit was filled with the roar of her Gatling’s as two streams of plasma tore into the train cars, sparking and ripping against the iron. She pulled on the stick and they lifted higher, then Rose

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  loosed a rocket of her own. The boxcar went up in a fireball, rearing sideways for a moment before keeling the rest of the way over onto its side, spewing flame and smoke.

  “Just a sapper,” she stated nonchalantly. “There are a lot of them spooking around, left behind as the main Storian units withdrew.”

  Lisa was reassured by the Attayan’s collectedness, yet surprised by the suddenness of the whole thing. It made Lisa realize that they were no longer in friendly territory. This was the war zone, and death lurked at every corner. Rose resumed their flight at a higher altitude, drifting slightly south.

  “I-Seventy-Six merges with South Seventy-One up here a ways,” The pilot explained. “That’s where the convoy---there it is, see that line in the distance?” She asked, pointing.

  Lisa squinted and did indeed spot them. The line of vehicles was miles long, the troopers appearing to be the size of ants. It had come to a stop for some reason, and the marines appeared to be dispersing casually into side fields along the shoulders.

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  “Probably a lunch break,” Rose surmised. “We timed it good.”

  They reached the center portion of the convoy and hovered down into an open grassy area not far from a group of Marines, sitting and eating, watching the landing with half-interest.

  Rose keyed her helmet mic, “Gunship pilot to Ground One, where can I find Bravo Company?”

  There was a slight pause, then someone answered, “You’re right in front of them.”

  The pilot pulled off her helmet, smiling as the engines cycled down. She popped the canopy and pushed it open, “Excuse me for a minute, will you?”

  Lisa nodded, “Sure.”

  Rose climbed down, glancing about, “Manny!”

  One of the Marines looked up from a group not far from the Huey, and stood. Rose saw him and walked over with a purposeful stride, face serious again. The two met half-way and he appeared about to say something, but she grasped the front of his armor and pulled him close, planting a long kiss on his mouth

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  before he could react. Cheers and whoops sounded around them.

  When the kiss broke, Rose smiled and looked down at him, being slightly taller, “I’m glad you’re alright. Everyone heard about the overpass being rigged to blow, and that half of your company was killed.”

  Manny, visibly flustered, kissed her again. He didn’t care about any racial divide any longer. This girl had stolen his heart at first sight.

  Lisa watched all of this with some wonder, but it charmed her at the same time. It was exactly this quality of resilience that made these kids so special and so loved throughout the star system. She was thankful in noticing one of her GNN colleagues was catching the event on camera from a respectful distance. This was going to be something--- on the ground for less than a minute and already getting great footage!

  Lisa walked over to the cameraman, who immediately knew who she was and greeted her with a smile, “Pleasure to meet you in person, I’m Mac.”

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  “Nice to meet you, too,” she replied. “So, what’s it been like, being out here with the First?”

  Mac stopped filming and returned the camera to its pouch on his side, the smile waning, “To tell you the truth, these guys are none too pleased with us, right now. I’ve been assured that I’ll be handed my own head if I step on any toes.”

  The anchorwoman frowned, “That doesn’t sound like what I would expect from them. The footage has always been of a great bunch of kids.”

  Mac shook his head, “ Thing is, these other cameramen have been pretty insensitive in their work, referring to the casualties as great ratings--- putting it in the faces of these marines. That bearded guy is the worst, and he nearly had his clock cleaned by none other than Ford himself.”

  Lisa crossed her arms, fire brewing in her eyes, “Is that so? Well, I’ll take care of that right now. Go tell that joker to come over here.”

  Mac grinned, happy to do so.

  While Lisa busied herself with establishing the

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  enforcement of her operating procedures, the senior staff was having another conference of their own. Strasburg had been referring to the tactical grid that each of them were studying on their visor displays.

  “The Army Hundred and First is heading south-west on Route Three, and will link up with us on I-Seventy-One just outside of Alum Creek Lake. At that point, we’ll be on the ten-mile marker for the outer limit of Columbus. We can expect more heavy resistance from that city. We’ll hit it from the north, and the Army Air Calvary, with support from the Mexican National Marines, will strike simultaneously from the south. The Attayan Fourth Armored is landing artillery units that will soften the perimeters from the east, setting up from a tiny burgh by the name of Adams Mills. This three-point assault is intended to push the Storians west, where Navy fast-movers will napalm them once they’re out in the open on Highway Seventy.”

  Ford nodded, “Sounds pretty cut and dried, assuming that the other units are in place in time.”

  Captain Hannock regarded the gaggle of reporters gathered

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  in the field nearby, “What about these clowns? It’s going to get pretty dicey once we engage at Columbus.”

  Colonel Lafferty made a dismissive gesture, “They understand the risks involved with following us around. So long as they stay out of our way and allow us to do our jobs, we have to let them do theirs.”

  They
turned at the sound of a distant jet and watched as a Storian fast-mover passed over the not-too-distant horizon, up high, from west to east. The enemy was watching them, sizing them up, anticipating their next move.

  “You can see that we have Grozet’s attention,” Strasburg stated. “I wonder when he’ll realize that he’s bitten off more than he can chew.”

  Sergeant Major Ford kept it to himself, but he had been wondering the same thing about their own forces.

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  Indianapolis, Indiana

  Storian Command and Control

  Grozet and Over- Marshall Garrow were seated near one another in the conference suite that served as the C.I.C for their ground operations. Technicians monitored numerous screens that provided daily intelligence on the Allied advance, courtesy of the Earth’s very own news-vids.

  On the table between them, the two officers reviewed the latest stats and made notations where applicable. Grozet’s mood had been more positive lately, which made the task of reporting to him and receiving orders much easier and more productive.

  The dictator was studying a grid map and the indicators stenciled on it, a pleased expression on his face, “I see that the Allies are about to close in on Columbus.”

  Garret nodded, “Their progress has not been easy for them, I imagine they are feeling quite pleased with themselves right now, thinking that they have surmounted our forces.”