by G. R. Carter
“No. From what I understand they’ve been cozied up together for the last couple months. Have Bobby watch over Maxwell.”
“How do you know this stuff?” ARK’s Premier fumed. “You’re two hundred miles away and you know who’s dating who! And what’s she doing dating an underling anyway!” The irony hung for a moment. “Okay, fine. Any other suggestions?”
Satisfied with the plan, Nicole gave one last order. “Tony, I’m telling you right now, don’t do anything to provoke them. The Hamiltons, I mean. They’re looking for a reason, don’t give them one. We can’t afford to take on the Republic right now. We have to finish this beta site in Independence, that’s our…your number-one priority. That’s the future of ARK just as much as the rivers. Understood?”
Tony grimaced. Nicole had come to ARK as just a computer programmer before the Reset. But he saw something in her, not just personally but professionally. He knew she had those intangibles that got things done; got people to follow her without realizing she was leading. Now the infamous Tony Diamante, of the feared and reviled Diamante family, was clearly second in command of his own organization. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was sure about one thing…at this point he didn’t have much of a choice.
*****
Tony stared at the two subordinates seated in front of him. He said nothing for a moment, observing as they both shifted, one nervously and one impatiently. He’d had an hour to think through his questioning since the call with Nicole. Now he needed to get some answers.
He broke the silence. “What have you two heard about the north river lands?”
“Not much. Same rumors but nothing substantiated,” Kathy replied.
Tony’s stare took them apart piece by piece. They’re lying to me, holding something back. Why?
“Why isn’t Mrs. Diamante here? I needed to get her opinion on something,” Maxwell asked.
“Just ask me,” Tony said. “Is it connected to my question?”
“It’s related to RenOne,” Maxwell replied. Tony’s face twisted in a frustrated look, and Maxwell explained. “Simply has to do with some programming architecture. Not content, I assure you that, Premier Diamante.”
“So where is she, Tony?” Kathy asked sternly. “She should be here to discuss what our next steps are.”
“I’ll decide what our next steps are, Kathy. Or did you forget who calls the shots around here?”
Kathy’s face took on a sarcastic glare. “Hmm. Well, I was thinking maybe you were the one who forgot. You’ve been hidden in this office for two days. Our people are waiting for information, for orders. All our First Citizens know is that we got our tails kicked by the Buckles.”
“That’s not true!” Tony shouted back, infuriated at Kathy’s disrespect.
Maxwell winced at the Premier’s boiling red face, but not Kathy. She’d seen it before, more than once.
“Mt. Horab is in flames, and what’s left of the Buckles are cowering on the Red Hawk side of the river!” Tony finished with an open-handed slam on his desk.
Kathy remained calm. “But they are still alive, and the Red Hawks are protecting them. Controlling one bank of the river doesn’t mean you control the whole river. You might as well not have any of it.”
“What do you suggest, Kathy? That we cross the river and take on the best-equipped and -trained force in the known world? On their territory? And since when were you anything more than a file clerk for this family? Now you’re playing armchair general?”
Kathy ignored the insult and pressed on. “They’re nothing more than a bunch of hick farmers playing army in the dirt. You should have let them get overrun by the Americans and the Black Flags. At least we could have done business with those groups.”
Tony steamed. Family members often argued with him about strategy, that was something he encouraged. But always behind closed doors. Discussing this in front of Maxwell, at best an underling and at worst a spy, was unprecedented. Even for her.
But she was right. The Red Hawks should have fallen years before. They were useful to the Diamantes at first. Without the food and fuel of the resourceful little cooperative that survived the initial chaos of the Reset, ARK wouldn’t have survived for long. Still, Tony had to admit he had allowed himself to become sentimental about the Hamilton family. He let friendship get in the way of business when the time came to change allegiances. He ignored Uncle Jack’s advice in that instance, and it was costing him time and resources now.
He took a deep breath and looked at Maxwell. “Mr. Maxwell, will you please excuse us? I think my cousin and I need to discuss some things.”
Tony noticed a quick glance between the two, as though one sought permission from the other.
But who’s in charge between these two?
“And please get Bobby in here on your way out. I’d like him to join us.” Maxwell gave a slight bow as he stood up, then turned and walked out the door. Tony could hear the man’s nasal voice relaying orders to the assistant seated in the foyer. Then silence.
He turned his attention back to Kathy, eyes glaring. “I don’t care who you’re sleeping with, but don’t ever contradict me in front of the help again. Do you understand me?”
“Or what, Tony? You finally going to get some guts back and beat me around? Or make me disappear? Frankly, I think I might enjoy that. At least I would know the family was back in strong hands again,” she said with apparent disgust.
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“You let those rednecks kill Uncle Jack! They burn down our flagship with him inside, destroy half our skyship fleet, and kill hundreds of our men…and your response is to make sure Essie Hamilton is unharmed?”
“She’s leverage—”
“Against what? We should publicly execute her for the terrorist she is! I told you, those religious fanatics needed to be wiped out!”
“I listened to you, and to Uncle Jack for that matter. You told me to wipe out Mt. Horab, and I did. Now I get grief from all sides for the trouble. Did you think they were going to give up without a fight?” Tony asked incredulously. Kathy had always been opinionated, but usually reasonable. Not now.
“They wouldn’t have fought at all if you had used the VX.”
Tony hesitated. Poison gas wasn’t a route he had been willing to take, even to eliminate a rival. Nicole had put her foot down on that, no negotiation. She had been against buying it from Vincennes in the first place. General Hopkins and his men had plenty after taking over the Ft. Knox VX storage facility and were willing to share, for a price. Even after Tony assured her it would only be used in a last-ditch attempt to save the city, Nicole made it clear she reviled the thought of even having it inside the walls.
He quietly wrestled with his regrets. “That’s water under the bridge now. And we can’t use it against the Red Hawks anyway.”
“I don’t see why not,” she spat back.
“Think it through!” he shouted again, once more pounding the desk. “They’re too spread out to make it work. And there’s no way our skyships can get to their capital without getting blown out of the sky by their Raptors! Non mi rompere i coglioni!”
“Then quit being a pigliainculo and stand up to that puttana wife of yours.”
“GET OUT!” Tony screamed, pulse pounding in his temples. “NOW!”
Without another word, Kathy stood up and stomped out, pushing cousin Bobby out of the way as he stepped through the office doors. He was laughing at the look on Kathy’s face until he saw Tony’s.
His grin turned to a concerned frown. “Cousin, you look like you need a drink. Man…I’ve never seen you so red-faced, and that’s saying something.”
Tony didn’t reply, trying to ignore the tingling in his arm. He turned to the full wet bar recessed into the wall behind him. He poured a full glass of scotch and quickly sent the brown liquid down his throat in one gulp. He refilled his nearly to the top again then poured one for his Head of Security.
Bobby knew t
his mood; best to wait until Tony was ready to talk. To pass the time, Bobby accepted the crystal glass with a nod and walked to the map wall. He stood and stared at the Mt. Horab area. Red lines and the occasional X marked important targets. Bobby knew what each meant, since he had just returned from the area.
“What’s it look like down there?” Tony finally asked as he fell into one of the overstuffed armchairs he and Uncle Jack used to sit and discuss strategy.
“Seventh circle of hell,” Bobby replied.
“I don’t know what that means. Can you please translate?” Tony huffed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his unoccupied hand. Then he rubbed his temples, trying to massage away a terrible headache.
“What our bombs and the fires didn’t destroy, our own troops did when they finally got inside the city. They were pretty upset about the losses we took…I guess they took it out on the town,” Bobby replied without turning to look at his cousin and family patriarch.
“I’ve heard that happens in war. What’s the mood now? How’s their morale?”
“Was pretty crappy, but our officers are doing a good job of pumping them back up. Calling it the largest land battle since the Reset. Told them each veteran will receive a special allotment of land for their own estates after their rotation is over,” Bobby replied. He finally turned to face Tony and stepped behind what had been Uncle Jack’s chair.
To Bobby’s surprise, and delight, Tony waved a hand for him to sit where the elder statesman of the Diamante family had offered so many suggestions.
“Is that really working?”
“Seems to be,” Bobby shrugged. “Most of the men who went in the first waves weren’t from ARK families, so the idea that they’ll have their own estate someday is pretty appealing to a yokel from some little backwater town.”
“Any Buckle survivors?”
“Not anymore. A few stayed behind to hold us back while the refugees got across the bridge. Once the gunboats finally got to the city walls, they were cut off. Like I said, our guys were pretty upset with the losses we took.” If Bobby was upset about Peacekeepers not taking any prisoners, he certainly didn’t show it.
“So we’ve captured a productive area, but in essence depopulated it in the process. Not a very good investment of resources on our part,” Tony sighed.
Bobby shrugged again. “You wanted rid of the Buckles, we’re rid of the Buckles, right?”
“I actually wanted rid of the Buckle leaders. The farmers and river rats could have been useful to…”
He suddenly found himself trying to speak…words wouldn’t come. Then he was slumping out of his chair until he felt his head hit the soft carpeted floor. Darkness began to creep in, he wasn’t sure what was happening…so tired…he looked up to see Bobby’s face, a mixture of terror and concern creasing his forehead.
Then Bobby was pumping on his chest—hard—again and again. So tired…
Chapter Six
Terre Haute Aerodrome
The Night Before the Invasion of Vincennes
Men and women chatted nervously, waiting for their commander to arrive at the hangar. The wide span building was crowded by several Raptors parked inside, while others sat quietly out on the runway. Ground crews finished arming and fueling the precious warbirds, each receiving a thorough going over by teams of mechanics. Crew leaders barked orders and pointed out any little detail that was missed. Tensions ran high with so much riding on these sturdy old planes. The pre-Reset Air Tractor never received such attention, but its Raptor descendant had a much more dangerous job.
Most had flown in today. Only a handful were based out of this airfield. The rest were gathered from small bases all over Grand Shawnee, the Okaw and Old Main. Some even came from as far as Lafayette. The pilots on hand were the best and brightest of the Republic’s armed forces, a belief willingly expressed to anyone from outside their tiny fraternity. Anyone with flight training was either here in Terre Haute, or out on the western border of Republic territory, guarding against any further ARK aggression. East or west, experienced or fresh out of Old Main flight school, they were all anxious to get in the air and put their skills to the test.
An old jeep pulled up to the hangar door. A tall man with a military style high and tight haircut jumped out before the vehicle came to rest. In one fluid motion he was in the door and gliding towards an elevated stage dominated by maps of the entire Wabash River area. He exchanged nods and smiles to the men and women gathered as he made his way through. Republic leaders were never big on formality, most of all Sam Hamilton. When he finally arrived and took the podium, everyone in the hangar simply took their seats or gathered around the edges.
With a sly smile, Sam raised his voice in a smooth boom. “May we all get to heaven…”
As one, the entire building replied “…before the devil knows we’re dead!”
Sam no longer cringed at the Air Wing’s slogan…not since Bishop Hart told him to lighten up and enjoy the harmless irreverence. Soldiers facing death had a right to an edge, a little morbid humor to lighten their spirits. Now he participated wholeheartedly. He raised his mug in salute to the men and women assembled in front of him. He had trained each and every one of them, taught them to master the aircraft they wrestled into the sky. Sam wasn’t sure how many pilots there were left in the world…in fact he wasn’t even sure how many people were left in the world. His family had kept enough alive to build a new nation, though, and he intended to keep his pilots alive to train a new generation anxious to get at the stick.
Sam drank the dark brew to the bottom. He wasn’t a man who believed in luck, or fate, but he did believe in tradition. And toasting his squadrons while leaving a half-full stein would be bad form. As the last rich swallow went down, he wiped off his mouth with his sleeve and shouted, “Against the Storm!”
“Eternal Republic!”
“Warriors of the Republic, men and women of Squadron Piasa, my beloved Thunderbirds, today we are going to war. Real war, against a real enemy. Not savages who will cower in fear at the sight of our warbirds, but trained killers who have seen combat themselves.
“Our mission today is twofold. Our Founder has asked Vincy to stop attacking our friends in Evansville. Unfortunately for Vincy, he has refused.” He paused as nervous laughter rippled through the hangar. The thin metal walls and ceiling echoed back every sound, making each reverberating syllable a bit more dramatic.
“So now our Founder intends to express his displeasure with Vincy’s actions by having us send him a message.” No laughter now, steely looks of determination. “We’re going to strike his lines of supply. There’s about forty or fifty miles of open country between their bases and the front line. Evansville and the Creeks have been holding them back as best they can. But it’s only a matter of time before they fall.”
Sam soaked up the faces locked on him—he didn’t want to see a single one of his group hurt, but this was precisely what they had trained for: to go into harm’s way against evil. “We’re not going to let that happen.” Cheers and shouts of “Eternal Republic!” and “Piasa!” filled the open space.
“The Shawnee Trackers are spread thin. They’ve got the best info they can for us, but mostly we’ll be operating on intelligence given to us by the Creeks.
“They’re not as good as the Trackers, but they know the area. Point is, you’re flying to a location where we think you’ll have good targets. But use your head, we’ve only got so much ammo and fuel. Part of our job is to distract Vincy, get him looking over his shoulder instead of straight ahead. Maximize the values of your attack.”
Sam turned to a chalkboard behind him. He missed the wipe-off boards they used to have, but the last removable ink pen had died long ago. Somehow, they still had dusty old chalk. The green slate held a rough sketch of the city of Vincennes, with squares and triangles drawn around it.
“You’ll get individual assignments, but I want you to get the view of our bigger picture. This is going to be fluid today, changi
ng as needed to support our shell-backs.” Sam gave a smile; he still enjoyed calling the Republic’s armored troopers names, especially since “airheads” was the nicest thing the land-based troops said about his pilots.
“People, stay together. If for any reason one of you has to perform a field landing,” (no one ever said “crash”), “your wingman is to stay with you until fuel doesn’t allow. Don’t break radio silence, use the wireless code to signal grid location.” He stopped and smiled. “I know I don’t need to tell you all this, you’re well-trained and highly motivated. I just feel better for it.”
A woman stood up from the middle of the group. “Commander Hamilton, you mentioned a twofold mission. I only heard one.”
Sam smiled brighter. Leslie Stinson was one of his best students, and a natural talent. “That’s right, Lieutenant Stinson, I did. Even as we speak, the Founder himself is leading the attack against the defenses of Vincennes.” Sam watched as heads nodded and some slapped others on the back, others exchanged high-fives. It was clear these young people wanted a fight. How many will still feel that way in a week, if they’re still alive? he wondered.
He gathered himself and continued. “As soon as we get the signal—he’s waiting to call us in to keep the element of surprise—we’re going to begin striking targets all over the city. The code word is ‘wildfire.’ When you hear that, I want you all to focus on the maps we’re giving each of you. There’s a target ‘A’ on each map, that will be your primary, after you hear ‘wildfire.’ But not until then, understood? Unless you’re flying overwatch for a fellow pilot on the ground, you get to target ‘A’ when you hear ‘wildfire.’”
Every head nodded. They were a smart group; they would have washed out of training long before setting foot in a bird if they were stupid. Hours in the classroom tested their resolve, giving instructors a chance to evaluate their attention and patience.
“Okay, your squadron leaders have your maps, you know your missions. Get out there and do your preflight. We take off at 0530,” Sam commanded.
