The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  “Now, Admiral, could you please show Kathy your excellent repast?”

  “Of course. Cookie!” the Admiral bellowed, and a short man in a chef’s hat appeared. He had a steaming plate of fish, crab, lobster, cornbread and silverware all ready to go.

  “With compliments of the Conch Republic.”

  Kathy’s eyes went wide, and she glanced imploringly at Adam.

  “Thank you, Admiral. Now, if you will excuse us, Ms. Monroe needs sustenance.”

  “Only if you promise to bring her back.”

  “Of course, Admiral.”

  Adam escorted Kathy over to a nearby round table, and watched as she sat down and began to eat. A pang of guilt hit him as he realized that Kathy’s diet had probably been hit and miss over the last few years, and here he was playing politician. She ate in a concentrated manner, not sloppily, but like one who did not know when her next meal would come. It took her about five minutes to realize he was watching her, and she blushed, swallowed and put her fork down.

  “Hell of a date I am. You buy me dinner, and I ignore you to stuff my face.”

  Adam looked at her intently. “Sorry. I forgot that this spread I take for granted is the first you have seen in years. I will admit I have a selfish streak in me that what I think is important is important to everyone. I’m fat, dumb and happy, and forget sometimes most people in the last six years are not.”

  Kathy took his right hand in hers. “Adam, you saved me and this whole auditorium of people from a continuous hand to mouth existence at best. And now I know you are working hard to provide this, ‘spread’ as you call it to as many people as you can. You need to apologize to no one. The Squids need to apologize. But I know that is impossible. It would be like me apologizing to a beef cow for eating meat.”

  She sighed, let go his hand, and took up her fork again. “I am not going to let guilt about how I survived and others did not spoil my appetite. But, please, I hate to eat alone. Why don’t you get a plate and join me? I have not had decent seafood in years.”

  Adam replied, with a flourish of his hand, “Your wish is my command. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The Director obtained a matching plate of seafood, much to the enjoyment of the Admiral and his cook. He returned to Kathy’s table, sat down and began eating. Maybe it was the effect of his company, but the food seemed much more flavorful than ever before. He ate in silence for a few minutes, stuffing his face. Then he realized Kathy was now watching him intently.

  “A penny for your thoughts, Ms. Morgan.”

  “You need to enjoy life more, Boss. I can tell that usually eating and drinking to you is just fuel for the engine, to keep you going. You need to enjoy the proverbial fruits of your labor.”

  Adam looked at her. This so-called porn star had wisdom and insight that was hard to ignore. And, he had a warm feeling in his lower body regions that wasn’t just from the good food.

  “Point taken, Kathy. But, I have to keep the eye on the prize.”

  He took another bite, chewed, swallowed, used his napkin to pat his lips and wipe his hands. He then stood up. “Please excuse me, but I must mingle. Everyone must have access to the Director tonight. A dance later, if you please?”

  Kathy flashed her smile and wrinkled her nose. “Of course. But Mary Lou may fight me for it.”

  Adam chuckled again. “No need for that. Everyone who wants a dance gets one, even if I have to stay here all night. Although I try to get around the base, some people won’t see me again for weeks. Now, finish your meal, and relax. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He walked toward the other side of the auditorium, Kathy watching him the whole way. She took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. A lot of people believed Adam was just this side of Hitler or Pol Pot.

  But he wasn’t.

  This was hard.

  CHAPTER 6

  MALMSTROM ARMED FORCES BASE, MONTANA,

  UNOCCUPIED STATES OF AMERICA

  Even as Director Adam Lloyd set up sanctuaries full of the formerly lost amenities and trappings of 21st Century civilization for his Chosen, others in the non-occupied or controlled areas of the world were getting by on their own. The inhabitants of the Feral areas, some near Tschaaa-controlled areas, tried to leach and scavenge what they could without drawing the attention of the cyborgs/robocops and other Tschaaa minions.

  However, there still existed free-minded people who firmly remembered what the world had been before the coming of the Tschaaa. Some of these people set up Free States or Countries.

  In the center of the former United States of America existed the Unoccupied States of America. Those who had fled there, away from Tschaaa control, had not just sought to hide. As in days of the Swamp Fox Colonel Francis Marion during the American Revolution, they ran away and waited to fight again another day.

  - Excerpts from the Literary Works of Royal Princess Akiko, Free Japan Royal Family.

  Torbin Bender sat waiting for the Commander to finish speaking, literally twiddling his thumbs. The former Marine Sergeant, Navy Seal and Delta Force team member, now Field promotion Captain, was up next. He had a PowerPoint presentation that should knock the socks off all the occupants of the briefing room.

  This was a big deal. In the room were representatives of Free Japan, as well as a few ragged representatives from former Russian-controlled areas now known as Free Russia, primarily from Siberia. This was a first attempt to organize a world-coordinated Resistance to the now firmly entrenched alien Tschaaa. He had to provide information they all needed and hopefully wanted to hear. The situation was still unstable, but Torbin felt his data was as reliable as possible. Six years of the Occupation had still left pockets of Ferals and Free Agents who provided information on the activities of the aliens. Torbin enjoyed the field craft, the nitty-gritty operations in the unsecured or Tshaaa-controlled areas. Sneaking around worrying about being discovered by the minions of Tschaaa brought back memories of his days in Delta Force and the SEALs.

  However, this Intelligence Officer role was giving him fits. He was a Field Ops man, not a POG, not a REMF. He had recently managed short field ops, permitted after he told the Commander he was getting cobwebs in his combat reflexes. He had been in on the first capture of a quisling renegade biker, one of three who tried to sneak into Montana by the back roads. This had been the first probe or enemy recon in months. Torbin was ordered to interrogate him after he had been softened up a bit, which had helped provide further information for this briefing.

  As he waited for General John Reed, his Commander and former U.S. Air Force pilot to finish speaking, he looked at his Captain’s bars and still found them foreign. He was “enlisted material”, never wanting to become an officer and a gentleman despite his four-year degree. But a well over sixty percent casualty rate in the lower forty-eight states, amongst surviving military of all branches after the first forty-eight hours of the Invasion, had led to some drastic promotions. Total casualties counts in this war usually meant ninety percent dead. And then eaten.

  Torbin was built like an Olympic athlete, just under six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, with a profile befitting a tv soap opera star. He had become a certified physical trainer in civilian life, after eight years of active duty, five of those in the SEALs and delta. His four-year degree was in Education, as he enjoyed teaching, so being a trainer combined his desire to instruct with his desire to remain physically active.

  He had stayed in the Marine reserves, which led to his recall in the first forty-eight hours of the Invasion. Due to his SEAL training, he helped lead a hasty attack as the senior NCO in a thirty man assault platoon in the first seventy-two hours. The target, a harvester ark outside of what was left of Marine Corp Air Station Yuma, Arizona, would mark the last time the Squids tried to harvest in the desert.

  The brass saw it as a chance to obtain some good intel, maybe some prisoners, as the Squids seemed to have landed in Yuma by mistake. They were proving to be fallible. The problem was, humans were much
more fallible, and the Squids still had the “high ground”... space.

  His memories quickly jumped from scene to scene. He had survived, but others, including a young Army Lieutenant, had not. A C-130 Special Ops pilot, an Air Force Captain, flew tree top level and dropped them off and picked them up in the middle of the night just outside Yuma, Arizona.

  He had spent a night of passion with the female pilot after the mission. Both had needed the affirmation that they had survived by having a nice, warm human body to hold, and love. She had dropped off the face of the Earth after that, never to be seen again. As had millions of other humans.

  The photos and video he and the others had provided, especially his up close and personal contact with a Front Man (the creature did not survive) provided much needed intelligence on the Tschaaa and their minions. But it was too little too late. And just afterwards, he found out his younger brother William, an Air Force pilot, had been killed. He had died a hero, but he was dead nonetheless. Torbin would trade ten heroes for the chance of having a beer with his brother again any day of the week.

  What was now referred to as the Battle of Yuma Overpass had gotten him “noticed”. So when he and numerous other military members fled to the Malmstrom Armed Forces Base, a certain newly-minted General John Reed found Torbin and latched on to him. It also eventually got him a battlefield commission, which stuck him doing briefings when he would much rather be kicking ass and taking names.

  “Captain?” General Reed’s voice cut short his reverie. “You’re up.”

  It took a moment for Torbin to reorient himself from his past to the here and now. He stood up quickly.

  “Sorry, Sir. Wool gathering again.”

  “Well, as they say, time’s a-wasting.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Torbin scanned his audience. There were eight male representatives from Free Japan. Free Japan had embraced a return to a form of traditional pre-Commodore Perry code of Bushido infrastructure. This return to traditional Bushido culture was an attempt to deal with the horror of the demon-like creatures trying to kill and sometimes eat them, although the Japanese had been successful in keeping their 21st century technology intact.

  From former Russian areas, primarily Siberia, the Russian military personnel were six in total, three of them were women. The women appeared to be all age thirty or younger, the Russian men well into their forties. Torbin thought the women were likely former Russian intelligence officials attempting to insert operatives using sexual attraction. All three women were highly attractive, but still retained the air of military training. Russian and Soviet spy habits die hard.

  Three young “butterbars” from the U.S. were in attendance–one male, and two females–apparently ordered to get this updated briefing before going operational. Either he was getting older or they were getting younger, as the three young officers looked barely out of high school.

  The two young women had darker complexions, probably part of the last group of humans to escape from Cattle Country about a year ago. They would definitely be motivated to get some payback.

  Torbin began. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I know it has been a rather long day, and it’s getting late, so I will be as concentrated in my briefing as possible.” He clicked the PowerPoint on, the first screen displayed showed North America, divided by color into Squid-controlled areas, Feral areas, and then the Unoccupied States of America (Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, parts of Minnesota and Idaho, and off by itself, the State of Alaska). Most of Canada was listed as either feral or unorganized, even though Torbin knew of some former Canadian military units that had fled to the Northern Provinces, the extreme cold keeping the Tschaaa out.

  Both coasts, the Great Lakes, all of the Mississippi River valley, and the southern part of the Missouri River were under Tschaaa control, as was the Gulf of Mexico, Florida, Baja, and the Panama Canal Zone. The Columbia River area between Washington and Oregon was shaded as in flux, the Tschaaa and their minions trying to reclaim the river from the horrible effects of the Hanford Nuclear Storage Area detonation, not to mention the volcanic activity of Mounts Rainier and Saint Helens. The oceans, other large bodies of water, and the areas of land extending about twenty miles from these water sources were firmly in alien control. Human naval vessels had almost ceased to exist.

  The Japanese representatives had used low and slow aircraft to fly to Alaska. The Russians had crossed the Bering Strait in a Soviet-era hover landing craft, the Tschaaa disliking the cold winter seas and generally ignoring the movement of smaller craft. Humans could get away with limited sea travel, if they stayed away from Tschaaa breeding areas. The Russians had met with the Japanese and made the arduous overland trip in two weeks to get to this briefing. Torbin hoped they found it worth the effort.

  Torbin pointed out the areas of interest. “Us, them, and No Man’s Land, since about six years ago.” He then pointed to the former states of Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia. “Cattle Country. As far as we know, the largest human meat stock breeding and containment area the Squids have on Earth. Three to four million souls reside there. It is made up entirely of people with skin of a darker pigmentation, due to the psychological fixation that the Squids have. To them, dark meat is cleaner, safer, their best option for nourishment and survival.”

  Even in the darkness of the auditorium, Torbin could see the faces of the two young Lieutenants from the U.S. flush with anger, their lips tight across their faces. If he were them, he’d want to invade the area, tonight, and free their former friends and relatives. Torbin knew, unfortunately for all their sakes, that was not likely going to happen anytime soon.

  He pointed to Key West, Florida. “The capital and control center of Squid-occupied North America. Home to what we believe is the most important Tschaaa Lord on Earth. Why so important, you ask? Because, although not the most senior Squid, his were the plans used for the Invasion. Specifically, he developed the technology, the tactics, and the decision for a long term stay.

  “This has its positive and negatives. The worst case scenario, which nearly happened, would have resulted in an even longer bombardment from space and more nukes. The Tschaaa would have left as soon as they had sufficient meat in their larders, and obtained DNA material as well viable breeding pairs for meat reproduction. We could be at the point of complete extinction, instead of just being temporarily beaten.

  “We know this because we’ve managed to slip in a couple of agents down there. Plus, Director Lloyd, the Tschaaa puppet leader, tells everyone within earshot the alien ‘master plan’ whether or not they want to hear it. The Tschaaa, at least the Lord in charge of North America, thinks hiding anything from humans is a waste of time and effort. OPSEC and COMSEC are apparently foreign concepts. Where they come from, once they take control, the idea that someone would try and revolt or resist is an ‘alien’ concept.” That got a few chuckles from the fatigued participants.

  Torbin continued. “This Lord, who apparently has a sense of humor as well as knowledge of human mythology, calls himself Neptune, after the Roman ruler of the sea. He was the one who convinced convinced the other Lords them that our oceans were viable places to breed and to raise their young. Now, they have large, permanent ‘nurseries’ along all the coastlines in the more temperate waters of Earth.”

  “This is a good lead in to the ‘know your enemy’ segment of our presentation.” Torbin advanced to the next slide. It showed a very dead young male Tschaaa, spread out on a large platform. The quality of the photo caused all of the personnel to lean forward intently, with some whispering in Russian between two of the male senior officers. Torbin knew what was on their minds. How did the Americans obtain such a prime specimen of Squid? The Japanese and Russians had only been able to obtain incomplete bodies due to combat damage.

  “This not-so-little guy came into our possession much undamaged at the beginning of the second year of the Occupation. His delta fighter crashed in a corn field in North Dakota. Tech
nically, it was what was left of a cornfield, because as you might recall, we had a bit of that nuclear winter going on at the time. A very nasty snirt blizzard–that’s snow mixed with dirt blown about by high winds–seemed to have knocked him down, and interfered with the eye in the sky locating him. No one came looking for him until what passed as spring occurred a year later. A patrol of ours scavenging for food and anything else of use found the delta, saw the frozen body inside, and started screaming for attention.”

  Next slide showed a different angle view of the same Squid. “We now know Tschaaa are very closely related to our cephalopods here on earth in form and function. They possess combined characteristics of our giant Pacific octopus and larger squid species. They have a thick body, a rounded dome with ten appendages, consisting of eight arms and two specialized tentacles. They have a limited skeleton-like structure, a frame made of a type of cartilage. This prevents them from squeezing through small openings like a true octopus, but gives them extra body and frame strength that enables them to mobilize on land for short distances like a crab, rising up on their appendages supported by this frame. They have a combination gill and lung system that makes them a true amphibian, though they exist best in an ocean environment.

  “Average weight is around one hundred sixty kilos, about three hundred to three hundred fifty pounds. So, as you can imagine, their appendages are rather strong in order to be able to support that mass while on land. There is very limited dimorphism in the Tschaaa, the males and females being about the same in size.”

  The next slide was a detailed illustration of the differences between male, female, and young Tschaaa anatomy. “Average appendage span is about six meters, their arms a bit stubbier than our octopi or squid as related to body size. The males have two longer tentacles, similar to squid hunting tentacles, with specialized grasping fingers, five per end. The females’ two tentacles are shorter, with grasping appendages which are slightly smaller, almost ‘dainty’, if you will.”