by Rod Porter
“Let me guess: you were expecting fire and brimstone, and a bunch of savage uncivilized people running around, poking their human captives with tridents and bowing at the feet of the alien plague who patrol our colony, collecting taxes and taking our young off to be their slaves?”
“Pretty much, yes.” Jackson had been sent to what he had been told was called a secretary. It was these people’s responsibility to integrate new arrivals into the colony, provided they wanted to stay.
“You are pleasantly surprised, I take it?” the secretary asked.
“I am pleasantly surprised. The hospital was wonderful as well. Being from just a rag-tag colony, I’m not used to such advanced technology and medical care.” The secretary wrote some notes on his clipboard.
“And your thoughts on being released from the hospital? What do you think about the rest of Hivestown?”
Jackson thought it best to be honest; he had a feeling he needed to be on the good side of this man writing importantly on a clipboard. His future with Stephanie could depend on it. “I think you people are putting something in the water. I’ve never seen people this happy to just be alive. It is also very impressive-the layout and all. Never seen anything quite like it, to be honest.”
“What colony were you a part of before you came to us?”
“Like I told the doctor, I don’t remember a whole lot. About all I do remember is that it was a real shithole. Nothing like this,” Jackson partially lied.
“You had some interesting injuries, according to the medical examination. Three gunshot wounds to be specific, and some fractured ribs. Can you tell me how you got those injuries?”
“Honestly, I’m drawing a complete blank.” Jackson was nervous, but he maintained his cool. It could be that this secretary already knew the answers to these questions, in which case he was already screwed, but there was no sense in burying himself. The way he figured, if they thought he was just a regular guy, he would be okay. As nice as these people seemed, they would turn him over to the aliens in a second if they found out who he really was. Of that, Jackson was certain. “I just wish I knew if anyone else was hurt or needed assistance, other than me.”
“Very noble of you. And you said in your petition that you would like to stay here in Hivestown?”
“That’s right.”
Originally, Jackson had done some mental sparring with the choice of leaving or sticking around. On the one hand, he had a duty to the Unconformed and the city of Jade. At the same time, he had no idea where he was, and it was not as if he could ask the treacherous colony of Hivestown for directions to the one city that everyone in the wastelands knew housed resistance headquarters. So he told himself that he would hunker down in Hivestown as a spy. He would learn the system and garner as much information as he could, then take it back to Jade. Yet, the other part of him had agreed to petition to be integrated into the colony because he wanted the lifestyle of a free civilian, not saddled with the burdens of command.
The secretary scratched his beard. “I am going to assign you to sector seven. You are going to be working at that sector’s power supply plant.”
“Can I ask you something, sir?”
“Of course.” The secretary put down his clipboard and folded his hands thoughtfully.
“This is a treacherous colony, correct?”
The secretary laughed. “‘Treacherous’ is a term created by those who do not understand the way things really are. We do not swear any creed to the angels. We do not worship them, nor take part in their campaign to weed out the bad apples of humanity. We simply do not oppose them and recognize their authority. The angels want to restore this planet to its former greatness.”
“It seems that if they wanted that, they could just leave,” Jackson interjected without thinking.
“People seem to forget that we are the ones that destroyed the Earth with our pollution and deforestation. Even before the nuclear holocaust, we were slowly and systematically destroying this planet. The angels came from the sky, after we had destroyed everything, to help rebuild.”
“But they have rebuilt a good portion of the world, and they have done it in their image. Why not consult with humans on rebuilding it the way we had it?”
“Because they want to be part of this world too. The angels want to live alongside humanity on Earth.”
“Wouldn’t they let you live above ground with them if that was the case? You have acknowledged that you agree with their views, that they should be able to share this world with us. Why do they make you live below them as a second-rate species?”
The secretary laughed. “We did live above once, but for a short time. Colonies like Hivestown were forced underground for our own protection. Humans, who consider us traitors, attacked our colony when it was on the surface. Down here, we are safe to live in peace. Once the angels have gotten rid of the troublesome humans who oppose them, we will come to the surface, and man and alien alike will live in peace and harmony for the rest of our days.”
Jackson could not believe how naïve this man was. He wanted to slap him and tell him that once the resistance and others who stand in the way of the plague are taken care of, the plague will liquidate the treacherous colonies, wiping out humanity once and for all. My God, the aliens forced these people underground and actually got them to believe it was because they wanted them protected! But he was not going to say that. Maybe he would plant a garden in his future front yard…how bad could it be? He would make the best of it here, until he figured out a way to get back to Jade and his people. For now, he would have to sit at a table with fools, and hope that the aliens would not recognize him, should one of them pay the colony a visit. It looked like he was about to be demoted from General of the Unconformed to a power plant worker, and part of him could not have been more thrilled.
Maybe what the secretary was saying was true. Maybe the aliens did want to share the planet. He was right, after all; humans destroyed it before the plague had even got arrived. Jackson had been totally wrong about the treacherous. But in light of what he learned about the treacherous colonies being sent underground by the “angels”, it seemed like “treacherous” was a concept and word created by the aliens to encourage humans with conflicting beliefs on the subject to wipe each other out so they would not have to. Time would tell, he reasoned. He had a new life to build.
DELTA
Finding fighter jets had been one of the highest priorities for the Unconformed ever since they had been told that the mystery pilot in sick bay was going to make a full recovery. Troy was under a massive amount of stress. The island offensive had been a total failure; he had to give a security detail to the new Prime Minister; his ranks needed to be replenished with new blood; and he had a Quorum and media network constantly hounding him. On top of all this, he still needed to put out a broadcast to let the people of the wasteland know the current state of the resistance. He had been purposefully trying to table it all until his soldiers found him some fighter planes. There had to be some stored somewhere.
If he was fortunate enough to locate some planes, the fact that the Unconformed would now have a new branch, the air force, would be a huge boost in morale and momentum. It would also give more weight to Troy’s campaign to transform the Unconformed into a global resistance body. Chief on his to-do list was finding these remaining human enemies that the alien queen had spoken of, but he knew that without planes to cross the oceans and explore other countries, he would never find them. He knew in his bones, and the top brass agreed with him, that there were other resistance bodies, most likely somewhere on every other major continent. The key was uniting under one banner. The Unconformed had helicopters at their disposal, but you could not cross an ocean in a helicopter, and using a boat was too risky and slow. So far, the radio transmissions the resistance had aimed across the sea had gotten no responses.
It did feel good to be stretched out in the back of a helicopter again, though. The chopping whir of the blade put his mind at ease.
The whole Delta squad was riding in the chopper with Troy. Reconnaissance teams had been spread out all over the country, looking for planes. One team had found a bunker in the remains of a military outpost in the Midwest. That bunker was supposedly filled with fighter jets, munitions, and other equipment.
After he was briefed, Troy had decided to assign the recon verification mission to his best and former squad, Delta. Myriad had indeed made a full recovery from her injuries, and she was accompanying Delta squad to evaluate whether these suggested planes would be operational or not.
The chopper was flying at a very high altitude. Intel had no indication of hostiles on the ground, but Delta was going in expecting resistance. They all sat in the chopper, nervously waiting for the mission to get underway. At least Delta would have the cover of night to conduct this covert operation. There were fierce objections to Troy taking part in such a dangerous mission in virtually uncharted territory, but he called the shots now, and though he didn’t mention it to anyone else, he had to get out of Jade and participate in some action. A good mission would remind him that he was not just some windbag bureaucrat, even if that was going to be what most of his position required in the very near future.
Troy found himself looking Myriad over as the chopper flew them towards their destination. She caught him looking and smiled friendly before returning her attention to the sights of the ground below. No one had any idea, but Troy was very attracted to Myriad. She was beautiful, quick-witted, and vivacious; reckless, even, just like her flying. Her long dark hair reminded him of Kara, as did her confidence and strong will. Everyone else, particularly in the Unconformed, looked upon Troy almost as if he were some kind of god. But not Myriad. She treated him normally, just like a regular person. Troy was appreciative of the ordinary manner Myriad typically had when she was around him. The few times they had spoken, she had always been up front and honest, never afraid to contradict him privately if she happened to disagree with his assessment or point of view. These aspects of her personality-and her physical beauty-were intoxicating to Troy. He wanted badly to pursue her affections, but he recognized his responsibility as commander. There was too much riding on Myriad. She was going to be the key to giving the Unconformed a whole new range of power and depth, and that was more important than his personal desires.
“One minute,” the copilot yelled back to Delta.
They scrambled to get themselves together, checking and rechecking their ammunition. The anxiety began to set in. Very soon, they would be getting out of the chopper and touching down in a potential combat zone. They were a long way from Jade; they were a long way from the Unconformed outpost they were using, as well. If they were to engage the enemy in the open after they hit the deck, they would have to hold out for at least thirty minutes until reinforcements could arrive. This risk had been deemed acceptable. A potential air force was worth it.
“Thirty seconds!” the copilot yelled over the whirring helicopter blade.
Then: “Five seconds!”
At that, the helicopter touched down in the dead of night. Delta exited as the chopper took off back towards the outpost. Once they were on the ground, and the choppers had left, Troy took charge. After confirming their numbers with a headcount, they headed west in silence. After about an hour of humping it, they came to a stop behind a fallen oak tree. They had been surprised that the terrain was mostly wooded forest. Perhaps the old Air Force base had stored these planes in a bunker that was meant to be isolated. Or maybe this particular area had simply been overtaken by Mother Nature.
“Check your gear,” Troy told them. They did. “Mac, let me see that map.”
Corporal Mac Roberts came over to Troy and handed him a map.
“This is it,” Troy said, after looking it over. “The bunker is down in that valley.” Troy gathered the squad around him. “Here’s what we need. L-Man, Eagle, you two take the high ground, monitor the situation outside while we’re in there. You report anything you see; do not engage anything unless I say so. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” L-man and Eagle responded.
“Good. If I give you the green light, you provide sniper cover. Balls, Mac, Doc, and Trigger with me. Keep in mind, we got Myriad with us. She will go to work inspecting the planes and the munitions. If these planes and equipment are what we need, we secure the bunker. After the bunker is secure, we get back out here, establish a perimeter, and set up camp. At first light, we expand the perimeter, make sure these woods are clear, radio back to the outpost, keep the area safe until nightfall, then wait for the choppers and ground support. Then we start extraction of the equipment. Questions?”
“Not to be negative, sir,” Balls, the demolition expert, chimed in, “we’re really going to be carrying these planes out of here with choppers?”
“That’s affirmative. And it’s our responsibility to provide those choppers with cover, if need be, so they can safely transport their loads. Now, we won’t be on our own. Keep in mind that when we’ve established that the equipment and planes are legit, and the outer perimeter is up, the outpost will be sending us forty troopers. Let’s just hope that the plague have left this area alone and they don’t hear all the noise we’ll be making.”
Delta looked discouraged, but they were ready to rock.
“Remember, troopers. This mission is vital to winning this war. Delta squad is going to go down in history as the squad that spearheaded the formation of the new air force. Now let’s move out.”
It turned out that the bunker was a gold mine. The planes were military and equipped for combat, with port-side guns and torpedo slots under the wings. After climbing inside and inspecting the instruments, Myriad determined that the jets were indeed something she could fly and teach others to fly. There was also a hoard of munitions crates in the bunker. All in all, they tallied over fifty fighter jets that they could get back to base. Of the fifty, there were four different models.
“Mac, get on the horn. Let base command know that we’ve secured the bunker,” Troy ordered after Delta had assessed the situation.
“Copy that, sir.”
“Tell them we’ve got at least five dozen jets we need to get back to base. On top of that, we’ve got the munitions for the weapons, so we’re going to need triple the number of choppers we had anticipated.”
Mac relayed Troy’s commands to Outpost Charlie. It was good that they had found so many useful planes, but that meant a louder and slower process of transporting them. Even though there appeared to be no aliens in the vicinity, there was no telling what could happen.
“All right, Delta. Let’s get outside and set up that perimeter.”
Setting up an expanded perimeter didn’t take long. Eagle and L-man had been outside on high ground all night, and they had seen nothing. Delta squad had split up in necessary numbers to create a strong perimeter in all directions around the bunker. It took about an hour for ground troops to arrive and post up at all sections of the perimeter. Now that they had reasonable numbers-about fifty, to be exact-Troy could exhale.
The first group of helicopters came roughly ten minutes after the reinforcements. Troy had been pleased with Outpost Charlie’s performance thus far. Myriad had been assigned to make sure the helicopters’ transport of the planes went as smoothly as possible.
Balls had used his demolition skills to blow the roof of the bunker outward. All the choppers had to do was hover over the bunker and let down a cable with a series of hooks. Myriad would grab the cable’s hooks and attach them to the proper sections of the planes. Once the cable was attached, the helicopter could take off, transport its connected plane back to the outpost, drop it off, and come back to repeat the process. The same was true for the munitions, although they would be much simpler to move.
The first few waves of choppers came and went smoothly. After about an hour of the transfer process, Delta and the regiment of Outpost Charlie were engaged by soldier aliens. The spider-like creatures were coming in small droves that were getting la
rger by the minute.
“Hold the perimeter!” Troy issued over the radio. Then he radioed to Outpost Charlie. “Command, this is Delta. Over.” Troy took a short break from firing his weapon and slouched to the ground. He was charged with the north side of the perimeter and they were holding fast. He yelled into his radio over the gunfire. “Command, how many jets have you taken?”
“We’ve got thirty-five birds so far, sir,” came the garbled response.
“We’re holding this perimeter, but you guys have got to pick it up. The enemy ranks are thickening, and their firepower is getting more concentrated.” Troy was interrupted by a thunderous explosion that rained dirt and rock down on him and his soldiers. “I say again, the enemy ranks are swelling and their firepower is getting more concentrated! Tell your pilots to step it up!”
At that moment, one of the troopers dropped dead next to him with a hollowed out face of blood. Troy looked over the log they were using for cover. The soldier aliens had thinned out on this side, concerning him that they might be making more progress at one of the other sides of the perimeter. He got back on the radio.