THE TSCHAAA INFESTATION
VOLUME 1
THE GATHERING STORM
MARSHALL MILLER
Blue Forge Press
Port Orchard | Washington
The Gathering Storm
Copyright 2017
by Marshall Miller
First eBook Edition
November 2018
First Print Edition
November 2018
Interior design by Brianne DiMarco
Cover design by Brianne DiMarco
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except in the case of short excerpts for use in reviews of the book.
For information about film, reprint or other subsidiary rights, contact: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and all other story elements are the product of the authors' imaginations and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or other elements in real life, is purely coincidental.
Blue Forge Press
7419 Ebbert Drive Southeast
Port Orchard, Washington 98367
360.550.2071 ph.txt
DEDICATION
To my wife, who puts up with my ramblings and ranting, and serves as the two-legged mother to our four dogs.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This is the Second and Revised Edition of THE TSCHAAA INFESTATION, a three-volume chronicle of what was once referred to as “the War and Peace of alien squid invasion novels.” Thanks to the hard work of my publisher, Blue Forge Press, specifically Jennifer and Brianne DiMarco, I now can present a new and improved version of a long labor of love and creativity. I have had many people help me in learning my craft of being a ‘Wordsmith.’ This is a career and an endeavor of beating words and phrases into a finely tempered work which, like a blacksmith does with steel fresh from the forge, cuts with a clean blade, but ideas rather than wood or flesh. At the same time, like a samurai's katana mentioned in the series, it can also bend to new concepts and opinions without breaking due to its flexibility.
Of course my wife, Sheri, has often times been a Writer’s Widow as I disappear for hours on end, especially late at night, to hone my craft. Thus, without her understanding and support, this would have been a still borne offspring.
Author and Esquire Thomas Mengert helped me with the first editing of this work of speculative fiction as well as suggested a companion volume of short stories. Thanks for all the hours spent with me and this futuristic War and Peace.
My good friend Gregory Brashear, an accomplished local teacher, was a sounding board for many of my ideas. Truth be told, a main character of the series is based on his life and adventures. I'll let the readers figure out which character fits this mold.
Peter Stockwell and all the other members of Kitsap Literary Artists and Writers helped provide ideas on designs, marketing, and publishing. The Bremerton Kitsap Access Television interview show Peter and I do on a monthly basis is an outgrowth of this group. The KLAW show was the reason I met Jennifer and Brianne and became affiliated with Blue Forge Press, which is leading to bigger and better things. Sometimes it takes a while for “good things and people” to come into one's life.
I hope all “wannabe” Authors read my artistic endeavors and think “Hey, I can do that!” For writers must write. We all hope that what we write will find a group of readers who will appreciate our ideas, concepts, and the worlds we create as we spin our web of ideas. Especially when those ideas involve humans being cattle for invading alien squids.
In closing, I also must thank all the people I have met and worked with over the years as yes, you all provided models and fodder for my characters and stories. Hopefully, those who knew me will read my books and say “Hey! Cool!”
As a final thought, remember:
Watch The Skies! The TSCHAAA COMETH!
THE TSCHAAA INFESTATION
VOLUME 1
THE GATHERING STORM
MARSHALL MILLER
CHAPTER 1
IMPERIAL PALACE
TOKYO, FREE JAPAN
Princess Akiko of the Free Japan Royal Family sat at her desk. She was still for a long, silent moment; she was not a woman who rushed anything. Finally, slowly and deliberately, Akiko looked down at her manuscript. She agreed with authors before her that writing a book was like giving birth but with months of labor instead of hours. She’d heard writers even attest to having labor pains.
She picked up what her publisher had called the “proof copy,” a bound draft of her finished manuscript. It was not a small work, both the subject matter and the number of pages required to record the events had a distinct heft to them. Actually, when she was first approached by the American publisher, she doubted her ability to complete the project.
Not only had a significant amount of time passed since the events she’d been asked to record, but the memory of those events–despite the passage of time–was still bitter for Akiko and for many others. After all, she was no fairytale caricature but a true Samurai Princess; she had played her own active role in the resolution of that chapter of human history. The origin of the Great Compromise–which had allowed two dominant species to share dominion of Earth–had been so startling in its advent that it had seemed almost unbelievable. That the Tschaaa were willing to accept the human race as more than just a food source had been a game changer of immense proportions. And to encapsulate that story into a single volume of history? Yes, it had seemed an impossible task many times. But it had to be done. The story had to be told while memories were still first-hand but not so raw that no one would be able to endure the recollection.
Akiko nodded to herself. Now that it was complete, she felt confident she had captured the bright spirit and the dark reality of those times. Even though she was Samurai first and foremost, she felt within herself the abiding instinctual drive to produce and preserve life on this planet. She understood well the importance of recording such a pivotal events between two species. What other option had there been, really? Coexistence was predetermined from the moment the Tschaaa discovered the oceans of Earth. The life giving reefs, the warm water of the tropics, the sun lit blue waters, and the diverse deep sea life– specifically the Tschaaa’s seeming cousins, the Deep Ocean Giant Squid–created a magnetism for the aliens that imprinted an indelible psychic impression upon them. The Tschaaa weren’t going away... and neither were humans.
Her publisher had been emailing, voice calling, video calling, and generally yelling at her to, “Get it done!” But Akiko did not bend to pressure, especially from a pushy American Northwest publisher who hadn’t even been there to see the events Akiko committed to paper. She knew she had to get it right, not just get it done. She had to pay homage to all those who had been there. The title, of course, was The Great Compromise and the subtitle was longer than most:
The History of the Coming of the Tschaaa
of the heroes and villains the Coming produced
and of the Great Compromise which allowed
two species of apex predators
to exist together in relative harmony
It almost read like a poem. And there was a type of beauty to it; the truth always has a layer of beauty... and a layer of darkness.
The publisher’s cover was colorful, with eye-catching bright oranges, reds, blacks and whites symbolizing the major participants and events of those seven years, from the first Rock Strike to the Great Compromise itself.
Inside, Akiko had dedicated the book with careful and sincere words:
This work of history is dedicated to those who fought, loved, coped, survived and died during the period of the Tschaaa Invasion, as well as to t
hose who created the Great Compromise and made it work. They did not just strive to preserve a certain way of life. They struggled, sacrificed, bled and sometimes expired so that homo sapiens as a species were preserved and could co-exist with their former sworn enemy, the Tschaaa. These members of humanity are truly our Greatest Generation.
She did not care that the publisher had wanted the book done months ago. This is what she felt in her bones, her heart, and her soul. Even if there had been even one small revision in this history, Princess Akiko would not be sitting here today, the proud mother of twin daughters, both away at military school to follow in her footsteps.
Akiko paused as she felt a moment of frustration. She had hoped they would find a different path. But she had raised them to be just as independent as she was–though her father (and many others) used a different word: Stubborn. Maybe someday they would emerge from her shadow and strike out in a different direction. But no matter, Akiko was fiercely proud of them. As was their father, the newly-elected Prime Minister of Free Japan. Also was their cousin Ichiro Yamamoto, who had also been a major participant in the Great Compromise.
The Princess looked at another stack of papers on the corner of her desk and smiled again. She reached over for the title page of her newest work-in-progress, Banshee: The Complete History of the 101st Special Attack Unit and the Sisters of Steel, Madam President’s Own.
Banshee was another labor of love from someone who was there from the very beginning. Akiko considered the two projects. They would tell a companion story of all that had occurred, all that had helped to create and cement the relationship between humanity, the Tschaaa... and any other alien species.
She wanted to publish her work as close to the twenty-fifth anniversary of the formal signing of the Great Compromise as possible. Everyone, especially the younger generations, needed to be reminded just how close they’d all come to a War of Extinction. If not for the actions of small bands of people–the prototypes of the current new family paradigm–any homo sapiens who may have survived Harvesting would either be hiding in caves or mines, deep forests and jungles... or they’d be service animals or pets of the Tschaaa Lords.
Banshee, which mostly covered the aftermath of the Great Compromise, would be published in a year.
Akiko leaned back in her high-backed desk chair and closed her eyes. On and about her desk were pictures of humans, of War Dogs, and even a few Tschaaa who had become part of her story and often her family. It was hard to believe she had a photograph of her “holding hands” with the Tschaaa Warrior Pilot, Dorothy. Dorothy had been a fellow Banshee–just over a year after they’d been sworn enemies. Not for the first time, Akiko mused that how learning to love and respect the Tschaaa had evolved them from calamari, tako, and sashimi to comrades. It seemed too simple, almost childish, but it was the truth. Today, she counted Dorothy as one of her dearest friends; they had faced death together.
The photos gazed back at her: Torbin Bender and his wife Aleks Smirnov; Ichiro Yamamoto and his wife Abigail Jorgensen-Yamamoto; Brynhildr Jorgensen; Commissioner Miller; General Reed and, of course, the late Madam President, she of the Spine of Steel. Then those of the other side: The Director and his wives, Kat and Mary, and his best friend the Chief, Andrew the cyborg. An image of the Tschaaa Lord Neptune scrolled through Akiko’s mind. Memories of times, actions, faces, births and deaths.
A large wet tongue made her eyes snap open. General, her War Dog from the long line that started with Abigail’s Sergeant Fuzz, brought her from her reverie.
“What is it, my large and faithful friend?” Akiko asked as she scratched his ears. Akiko knew that with each generation these War Dogs became smarter and even more sentient. Soon…who knew? Maybe someday they would take over and run things far better than Tschaaa and humans. For now though, General just snuffled her then gazed into her eyes. Theirs was a true love just has as Abigail had had with Sergeant Fuzz. Akiko hugged the great animal then kissed his massive muzzle.
“Did I ever tell you the story, my General, of how this all was started? How this younger daughter in the Japanese Royal Family became the great and grand Samurai Princess Akiko, heroine of many an anime epic?”
Akiko chuckled at her own words and tone and General wagged his tail.
“Well, my good sir, it started far before me, with other heroes and heroines, with perceived and actual villains and monsters. Do you have a while to listen to me? How about if I give you a dog biscuit? A large one.”
Akiko leaned back in her chair, remembering, deciding where to start. General laid his mighty head in her lap and absently–comforting him as much as herself–she stroked his head and began.
“How do the Americans say it? Always start by explaining who is trying to do what to whom....”
CHAPTER 2
KEY WEST, FLORIDA
The radio woke Adam Lloyd with a soft rock hit of the late 1980s or early ‘90s. Even before the Invasion, he had always preferred music that was just loud and snappy enough to wake him up without overwhelming his senses. Now, per his mandate, the only remaining radio station played soft rock between the hours of 6:00 and 8:00am. And as usual, he was awake in an instant–a survival characteristic that he had developed over the past six years.
Although fully alert and aware of his surroundings, he did not immediately leap up. All that would do was possibly lead to a pulled muscle, not to mention upset the other occupant of his spacious king-sized bed. But so far there had been no complaints from other listeners, as if that mattered.
Adam lay quietly, turning his head just enough to see the time on the clock radio. 6:45am. Mary Lou stirred next to him. He turned in her direction and saw that, once again, she had no bed covers on. Her back, and full, rounded curves were an inviting sight. She stirred, playfully reaching out her hand to caress his inner thigh. He gently pushed her hand back, then reached over and kissed her on her right cheek.
“Later. Don’t forget the new arrivals will be at the theater at 9:00am. You young ladies need to be there on time also.”
“Don’t worry, we'll be there.” She rolled over, and eyes still half closed, grinned. “Party pooper.”
Jeanie and Jamey, whose identical blond hair and proportions made them appear almost as twins even though they were not related, began to stir in the adjoining room. As usual, they wound up sleeping with their nude bodies pressed up against each other. Adam surmised some time ago that they liked each other’s bodies more than his. He smiled. It didn’t matter as long as they were there for him in other ways were important, and occasionally–when the mood hit them all–in his bed as well.
All three women had been by his side for the past three years. Under his watch, they were among the few special women who did not have to explain why they weren’t trying to get pregnant as their conquerors had demanded.
Adam rose quickly from the bed, reset the alarm for the ladies to 7:30am, and left the bedroom. He passed through the connecting door between his office area and the extended living quarters, locking it behind him to insure privacy. His living room office, built to his personal specifications after he had taken over the Naval Command Headquarters at the former Key West Naval Air Station, was now the equivalent of a huge suite, with a large entry way and reception room on the main floor to receive guests and hold staff meetings. His assistant, who held the moniker Chief–from the days when he was Chief Master Sergeant in the Air Force–had even created a small armory to store his favorite weapons as well as any new acquisitions waiting to be tested.
With speed Adam had developed over years of practice, he showered, shaved, put on some deodorant and then his undergarments. A high end three-piece gray suit with matching tie followed, along with his two ornamental as well as functional pistols. He knew exactly what made him look his best, and an old-fashioned U.S. flag lapel pin was the finishing touch. Some people thought he was rubbing salt in recent wounds with the pin. The old U.S. of A. may not exist as a real entity, but he knew where his roots were.
He paused, recalling the dream he had last night. It was the same dream he usually had once a week, the one he always had before welcoming new arrivals to Key West. It was difficult to accept that in reality it was not just a dream at all, but the memory of when that first large meteor struck in Atlanta, Georgia, as he and the Chief were meeting in a local diner.
One minute, they were bullshitting with each other as usual, the next hitting the diner floor as the the impact levelled the parking garage next door, while the force of the same simultaneously caused the diner’s front windows to shatter inward. After that, normal life too was shattered, and nothing was the same. It became all about survival.
A sharp knock on the outer door jarred him from his reverie and let him know that the Chief was here already with his morning coffee. It had become a ritual that the Chief brought him a mug of coffee on such mornings, usually some high quality blend that he had discovered in his many travels.
Chief William Hamilton, of the former U.S. Air Force Security Forces, had done the traveling for both of them during the last six months, as Adam Lloyd had been spending more and more time with the Tschaaa Lord who owned North America. The area from Panama Canal on up to the Arctic regions was now often referred to as the Reconstructed States of America, although people residing outside the Tschaaa-controlled areas often called the area the Occupied States, or the Infested States.
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