by J. F. Holmes
The Invasion Series
RESISTANCE
DAY OF BATTLE
TOTAL WAR
Dedicated to the men and women who rushed to the sounds of danger, seventeen years ago today. I’ll never forget. I grew up with you, you were my cousins and friends on Long Island, and the best of us all, and at your funerals, I wept.
RESISTANCE
Prologue
Somewhere in the ruins of North America
He couldn’t really call it a war, because the enemy couldn’t know that he was there. If the intrusion was discovered, death would be instantaneous. Still, he patiently navigated his way through traps and blinds, gathered knowledge, and left small distractions and traps of his own. Learning, mapping, waiting.
Waiting for the call to come. Waiting to strike.
_________________________________
Upstate New York
“Listen,” said the man, adjusting the green armband on his uniform sleeve, looking across the table at the other person “what you’re doing is extremely important. We need to work with them, they’re the future of the Earth. You’re young; how old were you when the Invy came?
“Eight,” came the answer, a bit louder to speak over the rising roar of an Invy shuttlecraft, just outside the window.
“Then you don’t really remember how bad the pollution and environmental damage was. I grew up by the Hudson River, and it’s going to be another hundred years before we can eat any fish from there. The Invy are the best thing that ever happened to us.”
There was no answer; his infiltrator was contemplating the enormity of what they were being asked to do. After a minute, the question came. “Do you really think there’s an organized resistance to the Invy? There’s been no attacks, no warfare. It’s been quiet since the actual invasion.”
The man with the armband had an answer to that. “That’s why I suspect there is. It’s been TOO quiet. Human nature insists on resistance to impingement of their freedoms, and it’s unnatural. Someone, somewhere, is ordering what was left of the military to bide their time. The fact that the Invy refuse to believe that humanity is capable of such a thing, well, they have their blind spots. Arrogance is one.”
“And you want me to find out? What then?”
The collaborator said, “Then you use the brains that God gave you and play the situation from there. Get the information, and get back to me, if you can. Go as high up as you can. If not, then strike when the opportunity arises.”
“And when I get back with this information, we’ll go to the Invy with it?”
“Yes, and hopefully they’ll believe us then.”
_________________________________
Far South Atlantic
The CEF submarine Knyaz Pozharskiy was in trouble, and her captain knew it. Unless they got the reactor back on line within the next five minutes, they were screwed. The backup diesels had given up the ghost last year; it was the reason they were headed to the Azores Base for a refit.
He drove the engineering section hard, but there was nothing they could do. The reactor controls had a fault somewhere, and they would need days to figure it out. Meanwhile, the ship wallowed in the troughs of the South Atlantic waves, rocking from side to side.
Looking at his watch, he ordered his men to abandon ship. They scrambled to the rafts; as each one was placed over the side, a team of pilot whales guided and pulled them northwest towards the CEF base at Tierra del Fuego. He wasn’t too worried about blowing the CEF’s cover; the Invy had killed more than two dozen submarines in the years since the invasion. None had brought any more scrutiny. Damn arrogant sons of bitches, just because they held the high ground.
“Well,” he said out loud, “Krasnaya Zarya will show them.”
“Da, Captain,” answered his XO. “I only wish we could have been there to participate.” Both knew that there wasn’t time to get away from the incoming orbital strike. Any manmade object of that size on the open ocean was sure to get hit.
There were still a dozen crewmen aboard when the Invy orbital crested the horizon, a pinpoint of light moving across the northern sky. With a half forgotten prayer, the Captain ordered the last of his men to take to the water, despite the bone chilling cold. Then he stood on the bridge and watched as a spark appeared and grew slowly brighter.
“Damn you to hell, you bastards!” he managed to scream, before the tungsten rod, dropped from Low Earth Orbit, impacted amidships. The Borie class submarine shattered, the missiles onboard detonating in a thunderous roar, killing every sailor in the water who hadn’t frozen to death already, and flipping the rafts that had started to be towed away.
No survivors ever made it back to the CEF base, and the fleet was down to seven.
Part One
July 2047, Eleven Years Post-Invasion, formerly Upstate New York
Chapter One
Energy weapons crackled past as they hustled through the main cavern into a side tunnel, the invaders firing low, disciplined bursts. A bolt slammed into the wall next to him, and General Warren cried out in pain, molten stone splattering his face. He fired with his pistol until the slide locked back, empty, not sure if he’d hit anything in the flickering darkness.
Beside him, the Special Forces (Delta) operator, last of his bodyguard, yelled, “GO, KID! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” and turned, firing his M-6 carbine back at the advancing figures. The sergeant cursed, damning all the aliens to hell as his weapon was shattered by a plasma bolt, mangling his arm. With his uninjured hand, he shoved the teenaged General toward the yawning door, pushing him backward.
The last David Warren had seen of him as the door slammed shut, the soldier was whipping out a long combat knife and charging forward. With a quiet snick the door closed off, sealing the General in blackness as the ground shook from the orbital strikes.
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“Uncle, wake up!”
David groaned, but the shaking didn’t stop. He sat up suddenly with a yell, reaching for a non-existent pistol, and Jeremy stepped back from him. He knew that, in the grip of a nightmare, his uncle could lash out unexpectedly.
“Ugh, sorry Jeremy. Was it bad this time?” he said, wiping his face with his hand.
“Mom heard you yelling orders and told me to wake you up. Who is Kira?”
David shook his head. “Nobody. A name from the past. She’s dead now.” He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, holding up his hand to quiet his nephew. The boy, a gangly teenager, didn’t remember much from eleven years ago, and he quizzed his uncle constantly, much to the older man’s annoyance.
“I’ll be down in a minute. What’s on the agenda today?”
The kid was already making his way down the stairs; he had chores to do. He called back over his shoulder, “Gotta hitch up the horses and pull that stump.”
“Shit,” Warren muttered under his breath, and started washing his face in the basin. The dawn light coming in through the window caught his features, and the reflection in the cracked mirror startled him. Burn scars stood out pale on his cheek, in sharp contrast to skin tanned from working outside. “When the hell did I start going gray? I’m only twenty-eight.” His reflection didn’t answer him, but he knew that the war had left more than physical scars on him. It was a wonder that it wasn’t all gray. A decent razor would be nice, too.
He rubbed at his beard, wondering if they should go on a recovery expedition to one of the ruined towns. Maybe poke around a Walmart, see if there was anything left. Or, they could go trade in Syracuse.
No, not that, he thought. It was an Invy town, like all towns were. Not yet. Not even after more than a decade. He put his thoughts aside and struggled i
nto his threadbare jeans, hip aching from another old wound.
“DAVID! GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!” his sister yelled up the stairs. Sighing and wishing for toothpaste, he walked stiffly down.
“Hey, can I get some orange juice and bacon to go with these eggs?” he asked, and Victoria gave him a dirty look.
“How about you just take your ass to Denny’s and harass the waitress there?” she shot back, but grinned a bit anyway. “This isn’t some damn restaurant.”
“Oatmeal it is then, don’t want to piss off the lady of the house.”
“So,” said his nephew, “we’re running kinda low on nails for the horses. Could use some metal for shoes, too.”
“Take some corn over in trade to Zoe’s place. I know we can’t spare it, but the horses have to be shoed. Roads are getting worse.”
The teen hesitated, and then said what had been on David’s mind in the first place. “Maybe we could go to Cazenovia and check around the edges of the crater, see if there’s anything left in any of the buildings that we could trade.”
Victoria looked at him, a cold, cold look, and her son turned away. “I guess not,” he muttered, pushed his plate away, and said, “I’ll be out in the barn.”
“You know you can’t keep him here forever,” David told his sister. She was twelve years older than him, and had been raising her toddler son when the Invy came. He had found them after the first long, horrible winter, and taken over the job of her missing husband, becoming like a father to the boy. Still, he always yielded to her when they disagreed. Jeremy wasn’t his son, after all.
“I know,” she answered. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray, and lines of worry and her own scars reminded him of just how much they had suffered. “I just, well, you know how he worships you. The big general, the war hero. I don’t want him doing something rash to try and prove himself to you.”
“Victoria, I’m no hero. We lost. It’s over. He knows that.”
Her face flashed with sudden anger. “Does he? I’ve heard the stories you tell him. About your friends, about how tight you all were.” Her knuckles turned white as she closed her hands around the mug of precious tea, and for a moment he thought she was going to throw it at him. She was right, though. Sometimes, on the frigid winter nights, or while working together out in the fields, he did slip, reminiscing. “I just miss them, sometimes.”
She shot back bitterly, “And I don’t miss my husband? Or my job? Or my daughter?” Silent tears were streaming down her face.
David Warren, former General of the Combined Earth Forces, stood and placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder. It was an old argument, one they’d had even more frequently as her son had grown. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. I won’t let him down.” She nodded and wiped her at her tears, then turned her back to him.
He stepped out onto the porch as the sun rose over a ridge to the east, and he watched as an Invy shuttle rose from the ruins of Syracuse, thirty miles away, a silver spark glinting in the light of a new day.
Bastards.
Chapter 2
He heard the horses long before he saw them, and called to Jeremy to join him out by the road. Then he stuck his head back in the door. “Victoria,” he called, “travelers!”
People passing through were usually a good source of news; one they looked forward to, but with caution. David grabbed the AK-74 that was hung in the mudroom, making sure the magazine was seated properly and slipping several more into his pockets. His sister came out cradling a 12 gauge pump in her arms, but said nothing; still angry at him, she just walked past. He sighed and followed her out. She’d get over it soon enough.
By the time they had walked the hundred yards down the dirt driveway, Jeremy was already ahead of them, talking to the man and woman who had dismounted from their horses. David noted the eagerness that was on his nephew’s face, and thought back to when he was fifteen, at the start of Project Brightstar. Social media had been all the rage, and he had been in contact with people around the world, discussing the construction of the fleet and the unification. Now, at fifteen, Jeremy had to walk more than three miles down the road to find anyone his own age.
No rifles or other long guns, but that was a given. Invy travel rules forbade it, and limited parties to three people only, unless on an escorted trading caravan. Then you ran the risk of becoming the random dinner of one of their troops. Still, the man openly wore a .45 strapped to his leg, and the woman had what looked like a small submachine gun slung around her in a tactical rig. Small enough that it would appear as a pistol to passing Wolverine patrols, but an edge in a fight. His implant immediately identified it as a Neal .22 caliber, fifty shot with a rate of fire of fifty rounds per second. A World War Two design that had never actually been manufactured, and his suspicions jumped into high gear.
The man was white, burly and unshaven, a long “veterans” beard obscuring his facial features, and a floppy desert camo pattern hat. The woman was small, brown skinned, with distinct Indian features. She wore a tattered Yankees ball cap that she kept low over her eyes, and didn’t look him in the eye, making it hard to see her face.
“Morning!” David said as they came up, moving the AK’s selector lever from SAFE to AUTO, with an exaggerated gesture that they both noted. “What’s the news?”
“I’m Nick, and this is my wife, Rachel. We’re passing through, maybe looking for work. Heard there’s a trading caravan going from Syracuse to Albany, maybe we can hire out our horses as pack animals. We ain’t had much to eat lately, crop failed.”
“Sure, we can give you something to tide you over to ‘cuse” interjected Jeremy before his uncle could say anything. “It’s only about another thirty miles. Did you see any Invy on the way here? There’s a patrol that goes by once a week or so, up Route 20.”
“Jeremy, why don’t you get to the barn and see if anyone might be working their way back there, intent on stealing while we talk to these people? You know the drill.”
The teen’s face wilted, but he shouldered his own shotgun, and sauntered off. There was no real danger of thieves, but it would keep him occupied.
“Now,” said Victoria, in a pleasant tone that belied the lack of a smile on her face, “where did you say you were coming from?”
“We didn’t, yet,” answered the woman, her dark hair and dusky skin set off by green eyes, “but we came up 81 from outside Binghamton. Had a place there, but like Nick said, our corn got hit with some kind of bug; we lost it all last week.” Her voice had a musical, accented lilt to it.
The man who called himself Nick said nothing as his wife talked with Victoria, just looked intently at David, then said, “Ever been down to Binghamton? You look really familiar.”
The question was unexpected, and a chill ran up and down the former General’s spine. “No,” he quickly answered, “I was just starting college when the orbital strikes began, and we’ve been here ever since. How about yourself?”
“Lost a leg in the Spratly War, a year before the Invy showed up. Got me this and a purple heart, and I was going to school on the GI Bill when they hit,” he answered, rolling his pant leg up to reveal a carbon fiber leg. David saw that, even though he was talking to him, the man’s eyes moved from place to place, always scanning the area behind and around them. He noticed that the woman did, also, and she never looked him fully in the face.
“If you two are done dick-measuring, David, we can give them some cornbread and water. I’m sorry,” Victoria said to them, “but we don’t have any work for you. Come back in September when we’re harvesting.”
“Fair enough,” answered the woman, eyes still scanning.
“David, I’ll go get them some food, and you and Jeremy can pump them for all the news they can give.” She left without a backwards glance, just as her son came jogging up.
“Don’t mind my mom,” said the teen. “She just doesn’t like to hear about the outside world. Makes her remember too much. But I’m game!
Have you seen much? I’ve never been more than twenty miles from my house since the war, and of course I’m too young to remember much else!”
Nick grinned at this enthusiasm, and sat down on stump, tying off his horse. “Well,” he said,” if your old man here would put his weapon on safe, we’ll give you all the gossip we’ve heard along the way.”
“Not my old man, he’s my uncle,” said Jeremy.
“That so?” said the woman, who sat down next to her husband. David noted, though, that they sat almost back to back, watching different areas of approach.
“Yep. My dad was killed in the war, don’t really remember him.”
Rachel’s face softened a bit, and she almost smiled, though she still wouldn’t look Warren full in the face. “I lost my parents too, I was a little older than you, but still. Just going to college and being oblivious. It’s a hard world we live in.” He grinned back at her; a pretty woman other than his mother, even a married one, was a rare sight to see.
“Well,” said Nick, “we come up from Binghamton after some fools tried to start a town. Did you see the flash?”
“Saw the reentry trail of a thunderbolt about a week and a half ago.”
The older man made a show of thinking, then said, “Yeah that would be about right. They figured that, well, it’s been over ten years, and they nearest Invy town is up here in Syracuse, so maybe they could get away with it.”
“Same old story,” said his wife, as Victoria came back up carrying a bag of food and a plastic jug of water. “No more than three on a road, no more than one family group living anywhere. You know the drill.”
“That we do. Had a patrol come by two weeks ago and update our pictures.” Again the couple exchanged a glance, a quick look that only David caught.
