Ichiro took the soft packages reverently from Madam President. He touched them to his forehead as he bowed to the President. “You do my family honor, Madam President.”
“You do our citizens honor by helping us free our country from an occupying enemy, Captain Yamamoto. It is an honor to stand in for your family.” Captain Yamamoto came to attention, saluted, did an about face, then returned to his seat.
“Now that we have concluded the fun portion of our business, let us address the serious part,” announced the President. “Mr. Williams, the PowerPoint, please.” The lights dimmed, and enlarged images of an area map and military base appeared on the screen. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Key West Operations Base and new capital of the Occupied States of America. Home to Director Lloyd and his minions.”
A second image appeared, showing a huge installation ninety percent underwater. “Marquesas Keys, once a National Park. Now home for His Tschaaa Lordship, who adopted the Earthly name of Neptune from our human mythology.”
Madam President turned and looked at her small audience. “This is our target. We need to plan a strike at these nerve centers as soon as possible. After six years of occupation, resistance from the general population outside of the Unoccupied States has all but disappeared. The only attempts at defying Tschaaa control have been breakouts from Cattle Country and failed attempts at assassination of Director Lloyd. We just lost five operatives. Director Lloyd has a very charmed life.”
She continued. “Captain Torbin is putting together a very highly classified attempt at a major attack against Key West and the Tschaaa installation. You all will be involved. You will know only what you need to know. Captain Torbin will be the only one with the complete picture.”
Madam President clicked to the next slide in the PowerPoint presentation. A series of pictures of men and women appeared. “Here are photos of the Director, his right hand man Chief Hamilton, and various members of his inner circle. As you can see, many of them are female. Adam Lloyd seems to have a way with ladies, and has been able to ‘turn’ all the female operatives we have slipped into the area. For you Russian officers, General Reed thinks the Director is a modern day Rasputin.” Aleksandra raised a respectful hand. “Yes, Captain.”
“Madam President, it is commonly reported in Russian history archives that Rasputin was able to hypnotize, to take mental control of those around him. Do you and the General believe that the Director has such power?”
“Yes, Captain Smirnov. He either has some ability to exert mental control on all those around him, or he is just plain damn lucky.”
The President suddenly displayed a small smile. “Now is as good a time to mention Mr. Williams’ source of expertise of this subject. George, care to elaborate on the subject?”
George Williams stood up, and sighed. “The Director, Chief Hamilton, and I served together in the U.S. Air Force prior to the first rock strike. Both were commensurate professionals and Adam Lloyd was one of the nicest people you could meet. Not a racist bone in him.”
“Before someone asks what happened, I do not know. I think he actually believes that he is insuring the survival of at least part of the humanity by sacrificing another part. Intelligence we have obtained is that Adam Lloyd and the Chief have personally saved dozens of people. And when I mean personally saved, I mean they have killed some real assholes, pardon my French, to save other humans. They have even taken out some harvester Robs with no ill effects on them. His Tschaaa Lordship has given him unprecedented power and latitude under the so-called Protocols of Selected Survival, and so far it has worked. Every day, the Director broadcasts over his reconstituted mass media new successes, new advances. They are about to launch a Tschaaa supported space launch from Cape Canaveral. Bottom line, he gets things done.”
“But,” George Williams continued. “There has appeared a chink in the armor. This morning, while we were getting ready for this meeting, an alien lifeform known as an Eater appeared on Key West and ate a child.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from the Russians.
“Yes, I know. The Eaters have already appeared in substantial numbers in East Russia, now Free Russia, after being dumped in China. However, it is physically impossible for an Eater to travel unnoticed from the last known location on the U.S. west coast, all the way to Key West in just over a week, unless it had help.”
The former Chief clicked to a new screen. “We have some excellent computer and communications hackers, former Homeland Security and U.S. Customs cyber agents, who hacked this picture of a meet of a Falcon with a human go-fast boat just off the Key Largo area. The hacked information points to the fact that another Lord is screwing with Lord Neptune.”
The President chuckled. “The fact is, the Squids have no concept of communications and signal security. Only those systems that Director Lloyd has put in place have any security or anti-hacking software. However, the Tschaaa do talk over secure lines maintained by the new crop of robocops, which are more difficult to hack.”
The officers watched the short surveillance video, and then the Kathy Monroe broadcast of the complete story, gory details and all, minus the secret meet between boat and craft. Seeing his brother’s former fiancé on the broadcast made Torbin do a double take. The last six years had been kind to her, or she was just very tough. She still looked great.
“The Eater slaughtered a young eight year old girl before being killed by Major Jane Grant,” Kathy reported. “Major Grant did this using an improvised spear. To say she is a hero is an understatement.”
A woman identified as Professor Fassbinder was then on camera. “Major Grant saved my life and the lives of my other students. If the Medal of Honor still exists, she deserves it.”
Back to Kathy. “Our Lordship, Lord Neptune, personally provided this reporter the following audio recording.”
A generic photo of a large Tschaaa was displayed as the Shakespearean voice he had created for human contact proclaimed, “To all the humans in the Tschaaa controlled area of North America. Rest assured that the Eater threat will not be allowed to continue. And, to the parents of the victim, the little young one, it is a source of pain that I, with all my resources, was unable to prevent this death. The young are of supreme importance, for Tschaaa and for humans equally. My sorrow is great, but my resolve is greater. The young will be protected.”
The video ended. Captain Torbin spoke up. “Is that statement from the Squid Lord for real, or just so much bullpucky?”
Madam President looked toward George Williams. He answered, “Yes, Captain, believe it or not. The Squids have an extremely developed sense of duty toward their young. Now, this Lordship is apparently beginning to extend that sense of duty and protection toward human children associated with those under his direct control. This may be a potential weakness that we may use against him.”
“And how would that work?” General Reed asked.
“Threats of attacks on breeding areas may distract the Tschaaa, and get us a chance to hit them in their main command and control centers. Failing that, an actual capability to interfere with their breeding on a large scale basis might force them to deal with us an equals, rather than as chattel.”
“Or, it would cause such a massive retaliation that all of us will be living in caves as they take breeding stock and leave,” pointed out General Reed.
“We have considered that. It is our assessment that the Tschaaa are becoming much too attached to our oceans. We think our planet is a bit younger than theirs, and our oceans are a reminder of younger, happier days that the Tschaaa will have difficulty leaving behind. Or destroying.”
General Reed grunted. “I certainly hope you are right, Mr. Williams.”
The President interrupted. “Since everyone in this room has been cleared both by us and their respective countries, and the room has been secured from eavesdropping, let me cut to the chase. We, and by we I mean all resources of the U.S.A., have been working on multiple scenarios by which we might attack and expel t
he enemy from our country, and eventually the entire Earth. This includes biological and chemical attacks.” She paused a few seconds to let that sink in. “We have even looked at trying to replicate the disease that made the original prey creatures–the meat primates on their home world–poisonous and infect us with it. If it won’t kill us too, that is.
“We are looking into specific attacks against the Squid’s breeding Crèches. But that is taking time. We need to make a strike soon, to show the world that the human race has not just rolled over and acquiesced to being food for an alien species on a daily basis. Inertia is beginning to set in, people. The idea that people of a darker skin pigmentation are just fine as sacrificial lambs is becoming commonplace...
“...And that is unacceptable!” Madam President slammed her fist on the table. Torbin saw anger in her eyes that brought him a new level of respect. It appeared that, given the chance, she would gut a Squid herself with a dull blade.
Madam President drew a deep breath. “The idea of an alien invader occupying much of my America makes my blood boil. I am an old-fashioned patriot. Death before dishonor. If anyone here isn’t willing to buy a ticket for this ride, it’s time to get off the train.”
No one spoke. Then Ichiro slowly stood. “Madam President, if I may.”
“Of course, Captain. You have certainly earned the right to be heard.”
He began. “In my country, my people have accepted the possibility of death since the first day the Tako–Squids–arrived. Through an accident of history that resulted in high radiation levels in parts of my country, we were spared the harvesting the rest of the world has suffered. Although we have had to work hard to feed our people, we have suffered only limited physical attacks. The spirit of Bushido is now strong in our people. Not the Bushido depicted in your Hollywood, but what Bushido, the way of the warrior, was originally meant to be. Be honorable. Protect the weak, the old, and the young. And fight and die if necessary, for our country, our people.
“My government, my people, want all to know... this fight is also our fight. Everyone, every human, is now an honorary Japanese. We will fight and die rather than let another person be used as a meal for a Tako.”
The President looked at Ichiro. She thought what a fine young man he was. He reminded her of her son, but her son was dead. She was the President of many, not just a mother of a few.
“Now I know why you were just honored by your countrymen, my new Captain. I think you just put into words what everyone has been thinking for a while. We are honored to be considered your countrymen and countrywomen.”
Ichiro bowed. Madam President bowed in return. What she did not realize was that Ichiro had just adopted her personally as well, a long lost relative now reunited, a family member to be honored... and protected.
“Back to brass tacks. As of this moment, attack planning begins, with each of you as representatives of your respective countries. Yes, this has all been coordinated with your respective leaders and commanders. Captain Torbin will work out more of the details with each of you. Much of the information will be compartmentalized, built into an organization of cells, each with a specific duty. As we reach D-Day, then everything will be put into the big picture and communicated in total. This extreme caution concerning specific details is because our so-called Lord Neptune seems to ferret out things even before we realize what we are about to do.”
The President continued. “I will say two specific things about assignments now. Captain Yamamoto, you and Mister Gunn will have the task of bringing a Squid delta up to flying status in record time. Just imagine that it needs to be done as of yesterday, because it does. The Japanese government is transporting more pieces and a couple of fairly complete deltas to us. Thanks to the numerous dogfights the Squids seem to be enjoying having with the Japanese Air Force, rather than just bomb it out of existence, quite a few deltas have been lost over and around the Japanese islands, one credited to Captain Yamamoto. We need an operational delta, to be flown by the good Captain here. Clear?”
“Hai. Crystal, Madam President.”
“Now, Captain Smirnov. You and your Lieutenants, all trained intelligence operatives, spies–let’s just air that dirty laundry now–get to figure out how to successfully infiltrate Director Lloyd’s inner sanctum. Preferably, by one of you three attractive ladies. If not, we need you to find a another likely candidate, as soon as possible. Mr. Williams can assist with details about who Director Lloyd and the Chief really are, and what they really believe.”
The President looked directly at Torbin. “The General and I have details to share with you. Right now, we need you to start planning how you would attack Key West and bring down the Director.” She paused. She knew she was about to send many people to their deaths, possibly people in this room. Tough as she was, she was still human.
“As I have said before, acceptance of the status quo is unacceptable, especially when it means quotas of humans being sent to slaughter. We have to shake things up now. I know you have heard that the Tschaaa have removed most of their large generational star craft from Earth orbit. Our scientists surmise they will eventually attempt a sun dive maneuver to slingshot themselves out of the solar system. Sounds like good news, right?”
She gave a wry grin. “The problem is, they are leaving most of their brethren behind. Once they are gone, the Tschaaa won’t be able to leave, even if they want to. So, we have about four years at most to make Earth so uncomfortable–maybe even deadly–that they will want to leave on those ships. If not, it will be a species fight to the death.
“Now, time for me to go to the General’s office. It has been a pleasure to meet you all, and it is an honor to serve with you. You are the future for humanity. So, as we progress, go with godspeed. Thank you.”
The sun was setting when Torbin headed back to his quarters. Aleksandra would meet him there later. He frowned. The concept of her being sent undercover was not a pleasant one. However, they were soldiers, and were paid to head to the sound of battle.
He heard a cry of greeting. It was Ichiro. “Torbin-san! A moment please.”
He stopped and waited for Ichiro to catch up, which didn’t take long. Damn, he could move fast when he wanted to. Apparently, Ichiro’s slender appearance belied the fact that his body was a coiled spring of energy. “What’s up, my new Captain?”
Ichiro grinned a bit self-consciously. “I did not expect that, my friend. There are so many more qualified Japanese officers…”
“Oh, bullshit. Ichiro, there are times when you are just too self-deprecating. You deserve whatever you get, if for no other reason than you’ve managed to stay sane after dealing with me and the other crazy gaijin.”
Ichiro gave a short laugh, before returning to a more serious expression. “Torbin-san, I have…something for you. From my home.”
Torbin was about to respond with a typical smart ass remark when the look in Ichiro’s eyes told him this was very important to the young Japanese. “Go ahead, Ichiro.”
Ichiro handed over one of the wrapped packages that had been given to him by the President. “Please, Torbin-san. Open it.”
Torbin carefully unwrapped the package. Inside was something he, being an amateur military historian, had read about but believed was a thing of the past. “Is this a thousand stitch belt?”
“Hai, a senninbari haramaki. A belt for eternal good luck in war, for protection. My Aunt had two made. This is for you. I am wearing mine already.” The thousand stitch belt was literally, a cloth belt made up of one thousand french knot stitches, and not just by one person’s hand. Ichiro’s Aunt had one thousand different Japanese women add a single stitch to the belt, one at a time. She might have stood on a street corner, asking passersby to each sew one stitch in the belt, in the traditional way. Or maybe she took it to work. However she did it, this belt represented a way of life not seen in the west. The stitching was interlaced with red color, and what appeared to be human hair. Torbin touched the soft cloth of the six inch wide
belt.
“Ichiro, I can’t take this. I am not Japanese and I am... unworthy.” He stammered the last word of the sentence. He was a man never at a loss for words. Until now.
“Torbin-san, now it is time for me to tell you not to be so humble. First, as I said to Madam President, you are all honorary Japanese. And, you are my brother, from this day forward. No, do not argue. You have the spirit of the Samurai in you. You must have been Japanese in a past life. There is no other explanation. You have shed blood and given your own blood as a warrior. You are worthy.”
Torbin had an unfamiliar lump in his throat. Damn. No one had ever done something like this, other than his late brother William. Quickly, he unbuttoned his uniform blouse and his shirt, and wrapped the belt around his waist. It felt like it had always been there, like it belonged there. He buttoned his uniform back up as a smiling Ichiro looked on. Then, from under his blouse, he removed his Ka-bar that he always carried, even when wearing his dress blues.
“Ichiro, some of our Native American tribes had an ancient ritual.” He slit his left palm. “Please do the same to your palm.” Ichiro produced a tanto knife and slit his left palm. Torbin reached out and Ichiro, seeing what was needed, clasped his cut left palm to Torbin’s left palm. “Ichiro, we are now blood brothers. Our blood has mixed. We are now brothers here, and in death, when we pass on to the next realm. This bond cannot be broken by other humans…or aliens.”
Ichiro beamed. “This has been a good day. We are now brothers in blood. We will now be invincible. We will slay the Takos in numbers that will be as numerous as grains of sand on the beach. Now, we need a drink, a toast. I have sake in my room.”
“Okay, but just one drink. I need my rest. I have a shitload of things to do.”
“Hai. Of course…brother.”
Early the next morning, Aleksandra and Torbin were sharing breakfast in his quarters prior to setting out for another long day of work. She had chewed his ass out in both English and Russian when he had been delayed at Ichiro’s for more than just one cup of sake. Then, they made up with some raucous sex, after which they had lain together in bed, Aleks snuggled up on his chest, gently running her nails across his body. And, as countless humans before had done, engaged in a little serious pillow talk.
The Gathering Storm Page 23
