by Rod Porter
Myriad was very grateful for a room that provided some solitude. There was no way she could have bunked with her recruits and maintained superiority. Sergeant Michaels was stationed at the outpost, and he would be serving as Myriad’s second-in-command at the flight academy. He was a drill sergeant himself and had trained over one hundred combatants for the resistance. His personal request to be stationed at Outpost Charlie had been granted long ago by General Anderson himself. The real fight was outside of Jade, in Michaels’s opinion, and he had been thrilled to participate in the recent covert op of retrieving the planes.
The jets were nothing like Myriad had ever seen before. Her flight knowledge was limited mostly to civilian-type aircraft-nothing with the maneuverability and speed that these planes possessed. She had thrown a crude homemade bomb over the side of her crop-dusting plane onto the soldier alien during the island offensive. Now she was going to fly a fighter jet?
Her first test flight might not have been smooth, but it was hard and it was fast. Initially, the pure speed of the jet had terrified her. There was a moment while she was sitting in the cockpit that she thought she was going to die because it was too much plane to handle. She proved herself wrong, and for a week she taught herself how to fly the airplanes. The second week, she taught herself how to use the weapons. Most of the planes were equipped with high-caliber twin machine guns and four missile ports under their wings, two each. It had been pure luck that a handful of the planes were outfitted as bombers as well.
“Attention on deck,” Myriad announced as she walked into the outpost’s ready room, looking over some recruit personnel files. Sergeant Michaels followed behind her.
The room contained twenty cadets. None of them had responded to their training officer’s order to get up out of their seats and stand at attention. They all remained in their chairs and continued to talk amongst themselves.
Myriad’s heart began to pound in fear. Already they did not respect her! How was she going to pull this off? She never should have agreed to do this!
Myriad came around and stood in front of the cadets. Closing the folder, and putting her hands behind her back, she waited patiently until they stopped talking. Sergeant Michaels stood off to the side of the room. Eventually, the cadets stopped talking and noticed Myriad standing in front of them.
“Attention on deck,” she said very calmly, “means stand up.”
Sergeant Michaels grinned with pride, as every recruit stood up.
“Good. Now you can remain at attention for the rest of the briefing,” Myriad said quietly, her heart still pounding with fading anxiety. She turned, walked back behind the podium, and addressed her standing recruits.
“How many of you have flying experience?” Myriad asked.
Out of the twenty cadets, four proudly raised their hands.
“Good: you’re going to need it. Let me assure you that you have never flown anything like the planes you will be training in. I know, because I have used them for the last couple of weeks, and it will be my job to weed out those of you who do not have what it takes.”
One of the male recruits whispered something to another. The pair of them let out a little chuckle. Myriad had been expecting this: young males who could not handle an attractive, female training officer.
“Is there something funny, cadets?” Myriad had been instructed by Sergeant Michaels behind closed doors on the ways of dealing with recruits that acted up. According to the Sergeant, the first recruit who acted up on the first day would be the troublemaker. The rest of the class looks up to this particular cadet for some reason; that is why he or she will be confident in acting out.
“No, sir. I mean, ma’am.”
Myriad came around the podium to stand in front of her still-at-attention recruits. She looked in the face of the would-be trouble maker. “What’s your name, cadet?”
“Shillings, ma’am. Max Shillings.”
“You seem very confident today.” Myriad could see why he was confident. He was good looking, and his file stood out more than any other recruit’s. Shillings had been a helicopter pilot for the resistance for some time. On a routine patrol one day, he had used his pilot skills to pull off a daring rescue of a group of troops who had been pinned behind enemy lines. Shillings was most likely going to be one hell of a pilot, but he needed to be put in his place.
“I am more than confident, ma’am. And might I say that it is a pleasure to have you as my training officer?”
The innuendo was not lost on Myriad or the rest of the class. She leaned in and got in his face.
“Well, Shillings. You’ve just volunteered for our first training exercise.”
Myriad and her cadets congregated on the flight deck of the outpost. The entire class watched as Myriad and Shillings climbed into one of the fighter jets. Myriad would be flying it, and Max would be seated behind her in the navigator’s seat. He was just going along for the ride. As the plane was readied for takeoff, Myriad observed Max sitting behind her. The young man was beginning to breathe heavily. The cocky brashness he had had in the flight room was gone. Now he just looked scared and helpless.
“Don’t worry, Shillings. Statistically speaking, you are highly unlikely to develop permanent head injuries from evasive maneuvers.”
She laughed to herself, noticing that with the rumbling of the engines and the shaking of the plane, Shillings just got more and more afraid, until the plane finally took off down the runway with Max clutching his seat for dear life. In the air, Myriad tortured the young cadet. She did every advanced maneuver in the book, and when he screamed for her to stop, she just pushed the plane harder.
“Ma’am, please stop!” Shillings squealed.
Myriad did, sending the plane into a dangerous free-fall that sent Shillings’s stomach up into his throat, only to send the fighter jet back into top gear and cause the cadet to cry out again.
When they finally touched back down, Max had made a silent agreement with himself never to cross Myriad again. The class of cadets was waiting for them back on the flight deck. They laughed and giggled amongst themselves when Myriad and Max returned. Max had vomit on his clothes and urine stains through the front of his pants.
Myriad could not be positive, but she thought that she had earned their respect. Hopefully she could get them to fly these planes.
EMISSARY
Mickey had been in Troy’s office for nearly half an hour. The circumstances surrounding their meeting were quite extraordinary. Here sat two individuals who, months ago, were nothing more than mere numbers in an alien prison camp-nothing but cellmates waiting to die a slow death in the labor pits. Now they were meeting in the wasteland’s greatest city as major players in the interest of two of humanity’s most powerful groups.
Troy had been pleased to see Mickey. The boy was looking healthy and mature. What he wanted, however, was not sitting very well with Troy at all. He had seen this coming when he heard that Mickey was joining the priesthood. Demoskeena would try to use Mickey against Troy, hoping that their personal relationship would make Troy more agreeable.
Troy’s latest broadcast had stirred up a political firestorm in the city. No one in Jade had believed him when he said he was going to build an air force. Popular opinion among the naysayers was that fighter planes-or regular planes, for that matter-no longer existed. Being able to take to the skies and fight like the alien sentinels was the most ridiculous concept people had ever heard. The sky was off-limits to a lowly species like humans. The aliens had taken that territory, and no one could take it back. Except Troy reportedly had. While no one at Jade had seen the planes, since they were being held at Outpost Charlie, Troy still got bad press for it.
The announcement that he would be leaving soon for Africa had everyone even more excited. Since the alien invasion, there had been no communication with any of the other continents. It was unknown whether they even still existed. Fortunately, there were still maps of their locations. The Unconformed had been equally fortunate
to have found carrier planes in a bunker not far from Outpost Charlie. All the resistance had to do was wait for pilots to be trained, then the carriers would be ready to transport passengers across the oceans. Troy had been expecting a visit from the Prime Minister himself after he had announced his plans to leave for Africa. Sending Mickey had been a nice touch.
“That is the Church’s primary interest,” Mickey said.
“You know I don’t doubt your motives, Mick, or the Church’s. But Demoskeena and his senior clergy are corrupt. They’re using you and the Church to further their agenda. Demoskeena is using our friendship to try and cloud my judgment.”
“I’m well aware of the head cleric and Prime Minister’s agenda, Troy, and I am not here pushing it. You have to trust me when I say the Catholic Church is part of the solution, just like the resistance. I might be a cleric, but that does not mean that I agree with and follow Demoskeena’s personal doctrines and beliefs. I believe in the word of God and the teachings of the Bible. And like I said, I would be the sole representative for the Church accompanying you.”
Troy thought it over. He had no immediate objections to taking Mickey. He believed the young priest when he spoke of the strength of his faith and his desire to make a difference for the greater good of humanity. The Catholic Church was filled with some exceptional people who had done, and continued to do, exceptional things for the community. It was the corrupt members that gave Troy pause.
Mickey saw that Troy was struggling with the decision.
“Troy. We’ve no idea what we’ll see when we get there. Africa could be a shining beacon of hope or a wasteland just like America. Most likely it will be a wasteland. There may be people who have given up, people who are lost souls with no hope. You will bring them hope with your ideas for unity and brotherhood.”
The words seemed to register now.
“Let me add to that hope,” Mickey pleaded.
Troy had decided. “You tell the Prime Minister that I will be taking you with me to Africa, but only you.”
“I will,” came Mickey’s enthusiastic reply.
“But you are the lone representative. No other emissaries for the Church will be joining the resistance flights to the other continents. Just you, accompanying the one bound for Africa, and that’s it.”
The two shared a moment of silence, staring at one another seriously. Then they burst out laughing, the irony of the situation finally setting in. They had both come a long, long way.
“You heard Tommy is finally conscious?” asked Mickey.
“I heard. I’ll be down to see him as soon as I get everything squared away for the trip. The doctors say he’s doing well. I know there was a chance of amnesia last I heard.”
“He doesn’t have it, thank the Lord. I’ve talked with him, and he remembers everything. He should be back on his feet in no time.”
“That’s great news.” Troy could tell that it did Mickey good that Tommy had recovered. Tommy had nearly died saving Mickey’s life in the prison escape. Seeing the emotion in Mickey at the mention of Tommy turned on a light bulb in Troy’s head. He did not even want to think it, but Mickey could conceivably betray him. Mickey was a cleric and ultimately answered to Demoskeena. Troy’s position could not afford him the luxury of ignoring his duty to be forward-thinking and objective.
“Well, you are dismissed, cleric.”
“Thanks for meeting with me, Troy. I really appreciate it.”
The two men shook hands and Mickey headed for the exit. Then another light bulb went on and Troy recognized his first opportunity to have someone on the inside of the Catholic Church-close to Demoskeena-who would have the Unconformed’s best interests at heart. He would use the same angle Demoskeena was using on him. Tommy would make a fine candidate, as a member of Demoskeena’s security detail. Finally, he would have someone behind enemy lines monitoring the situation and keeping him informed.
TOMMY
“Big man.” Troy was genuinely pleased to see his old friend alive and well. The doctors had been nothing short of amazed at Tommy’s recovery. “Doctors tell me you’re strong as a bull. They’ve never seen anyone recover as fast as you did.”
“You should know better than to be surprised at that.”
Troy laughed. “Believe me, I’m not. I’m glad you like the grub.”
“Thanks for bringing me some real food,” Tommy said, shoveling down the snack Troy had brought him. “This garbage they’ve been feeding me in here is enough to put me back under.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you’re back on your feet.”
“Try to tell that to these doctor know-it-alls. They’re keeping me bedridden for two more days. I’m still a little weak, but I can walk.”
“Still the same hardnosed nomad.”
After shoveling the last bits of his surprise dinner into his mouth, Tommy wiped his face clean. “I hear you’re running the show now. I hear Jacks is gone.”
Troy saw the devastation in Tommy’s eyes at the mention of Jackson, though it was subtle. Troy had never pried, but he had always felt that, much like himself, Tommy had survived the prison camp only because of Jackson. “We don’t know for sure that he’s dead. Nothing has been confirmed. No body.”
“He was a tough son of a bitch.” Tommy grinned. “Probably alive and kicking somewhere if I know him. He’s like a cockroach: hard to kill.”
Now was as good a time as any for Troy to make his move. “Since I am running the show now, as you so nicely put it, I’ve got an assignment for you.”
Tommy looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m no soldier, Troy.”
“What exactly are you going to do with yourself? Because you’ve got two choices. Either become a civilian or go back out into the wastes. I know you don’t want to go out in the wastes, and I know you damn sure don’t want to be a civilian.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a special operation. Maybe you don’t know, but the Prime Minister was almost killed a few months back.”
“I heard. Never thought I would see the days of a functioning government again.”
“Well, they’re here, and what’s worse is this Prime Minister is concerned with his own personal agenda and nothing else.”
“Sounds like he should be put in front of a firing squad.”
“Maybe. But the truth is humanity is going to end up needing people like him. We need slippery eels like Demoskeena. But that doesn’t mean we just give him free rein and let him run loose without eyes on him.” Troy hesitated. He knew this was going to be a tough pitch.
“I need you to be those eyes, Tommy.”
“Me?”
“I’m organizing a small security detail for the Prime Minister. I trust the men I am assigning, but Demoskeena can be very persuasive. He’ll give them luxuries and perks that will be hard to turn down. They’ll be denied nothing. I expect them to more than warm up to him, maybe even have more loyalty to him than to me eventually. I don’t need to worry about that with you.” Troy hoped he was right about that. Tommy was his friend, but Tommy also had the lifestyle of a nomad in his blood.
Tommy thought on it. “Well, you’re right. I ain’t cut out to be no civilian, and I’m damn sure not going back to the wastes. Let me think about it, okay?”
Troy regarded Tommy before leaving. “Think on it, Tommy. I need you.” Tommy could not help but laugh as he watched the General of the Unconformed, his former cellmate, walk out of the room.
Life was a trip.
WOLVES
The past few months had been the happiest of Jackson’s life. He had settled nicely into life in Hivestown. His job at the plant had been surprisingly productive and stimulating. It felt great to partake in what the folks at Hivestown called an honest day’s work. His injuries were completely healed, and the hardship, death, violence, and struggle that he had known his entire life were all but forgotten. It had been unusual to go for so long a time without hearing anguished cries from people in pain,
or sounds of gunfire and explosions or bullets whizzing by his head. He had grown so tired of that life. Living in Hivestown gave him the perspective that life was very short. He had already wasted the first part of it in endless combat. In his mind, it would have been fine if he never set foot in Jade again. Hivestown was paradise, and to his complete surprise was not even one of the premiere colonies of the…‘conformed’ colonies. It was his personal goal to acquire enough currency to move to one of these colonies with his wife, Stephanie.
She was the key ingredient in Jackson’s revelations about the world. He had never known a woman before Stephanie. Her love had transformed him in a way he would have thought impossible. On top of all this good fortune, they were expecting a child. They had decided to keep the baby’s sex a secret. Hivestown’s hospital could easily determine the baby’s gender, but they wanted it to be a total surprise in the delivery room. Working and being a good husband was a lot easier knowing that soon you would be starting a family. Jackson had never once thought of being a father. As General of the Unconformed, he had never had the time to pursue any kind of meaningful relationship with a woman. With Stephanie, he had a second chance, and he was not going to waste it. So the people were wrong about the aliens being angels, he told himself. The fact was that the aliens were going to be here for a very long time.
Jackson knew the capabilities of the Unconformed, and in retrospect, they simply did not have the resources to destroy the plague. Whatever change was going to come, if any, it would come long after he and Stephanie and their children and their children’s children had died.
