Dark New World (Book 4): EMP Backdraft

by Henry G. Foster

  Cassy fought the urge to curse. This was terrible news. It meant several things at once, none of which would be good for the Clan. First, it meant the invaders had some idea of what was going on hundreds of miles away, and that was scary because how did they know? Somebody was telling them.

  Second, it meant the ’vaders could afford to station—she did the math in her head—just shy of four hundred troops to go scout… something. They weren’t even sure what, but it might be a threat to them later. So they sent out hundreds of troops to look. Hundreds. What chance did that leave the Clan, even with the Confederation?

  And third, because of the raiding party they had sent to help get Brickerville’s fighters out of the besieged town—which now seemed like it hadn’t really been the target at all—the rest of an entire combat battalion was now making friendly and “kicking it real,” as Jaz would say, over at Adamstown. From the battle reports, that left at least three hundred ’vaders hanging out on the Confederation’s eastern border, now allied to the Clan’s longstanding enemies over at Adamstown.

  On the bright side, they had hurt the invaders enough with that raid to derail their plans, else why had they fallen back to Adamstown? The mission itself had been a success, too. Not only did Brickerville’s fighters get out, so they could be of some actual use in this fight, they also smuggled in those drones and other supplies from that defunct nutjob compound. Brickerville’s plan for the drones was no less than brilliant, though she’d have rather had a few of them for the Clan. Maybe this whole situation could be turned to the Confederation’s advantage somehow.

  One last thing was nagging at her, though. “Fritz, tell me something. Why did Adamstown suddenly throw the gates open now, instead of when the invaders rolled into the area going west in the first place?”

  “Because we figured they’d just attack us, passing by, so we got our defenses up the best we could, but they never did. They just kept right on rolling west, but first they raided us, caught a boatload of our people, and made them into slaves. They never tried to occupy our place. You saw the slaves they grabbed when you attacked them, I’m sure. They just needed some of us to free up their troops for combat, I figure. I got the impression they didn’t think they’d need slaves when they left wherever they came from, New Jersey I think. Or they weren’t allowed to bring the ones they had, or their slaves ran away or something. Either way, they decided getting some along the way from us sounded fantastic.”

  “Then why give in to them when they came back? You were ready to fight them the first time, so I have to wonder about your story, Fritz.”

  Cassy saw his hands clench up and assumed that was a frustration response. It meant his next words would likely be honest, or at least the truth he knew.

  “Like I said, some of us still didn’t want to knuckle under to them. But the first time they came through, we didn’t really know how many there were. Then we counted them going by. Plus, when they came back they had slaves. They still had about a hundred of us, whichever ones you hadn’t freed in the fight. They lined them up outside and said they’d shoot the slaves if we didn’t negotiate a surrender. Those were our friends, our families, you know? They had caught almost a fifth of us when they raided us the first time, so everyone in town had a son or a brother, whatever, out there, lined up and waiting to die right in front of us. So, we voted to open up. Not me, but most did.”

  Cassy had gotten the information she wanted and it seemed consistent. She nodded to Michael. “Anything else you want to know?”

  Michael frowned, the wheels in his head obviously turning. Finally, he said, “Why didn’t they give you to the ’vaders as slaves, those who voted no?”

  “I couldn’t say. Maybe we weren’t handed over because we have friends and family there, even if we voted no. My wife helped get me out, and nobody was really eager to try to stop people from sneaking us out of town. As I said, we’re exiled now.”

  “And why would they bother to send the Clan a message, warning us about what was happening?” Michael’s expression was pensive.

  “They asked me to risk coming to you to let you know and ask if maybe you can help us. You or some of the other places you trade with. We’re not really raiders the way you think we are. We’re just trying to survive, and we’re willing to work for food and a place to stay.”

  “Didn’t you think your reputation would work against you?”

  “Listen—not everyone in Adamstown is evil. Some wanted to warn you because we’re all Americans, despite the town opening its gates to the ’vaders for survival.”

  Michael nodded. “I imagine that’s true. So did you vote for them to open up the gates to those bastards?”

  “No way. I didn’t want to open up to them, and I don’t want them winning. And I figured coming here to tell you everything I know might earn me a spot at your table. Hell, work me as hard as you want, if that’s your thing, but give me a chance. I promise you won’t regret it, man. Some of us were just there because our luck sucked.”

  Well, that was probably the truest thing he had said. Cassy wondered what she’d do if Brianna and Aidan were starving and someone dropped a plate of hot, seasoned barbeque on the table. Would she ask questions first? She didn’t really care for the answer she got when she thought about it. She’d probably try to hide the truth from the kids, but she’d feed them. How could she not?

  “Michael, ship his ass to Liz Town and tell them he’s a refugee from back east. It isn’t a lie, exactly, and they’ll probably catch him out quick enough anyway, but at least he will have a shot at making it. They always need more people who can work.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Michael said with a nod. He was so closed up emotionally, from expecting to have to be a lot rougher in questioning this guy, that she couldn’t read his feelings the way she usually did, but she trusted that if he had a problem with it, he’d tell her before sending Fritz away. In the meantime, she felt better about what had happened here, and her appetite returned with a vengeance, reminding her that she missed breakfast again.

  * * *

  In a safely held area of upstate New Jersey, Ree rode in the passenger seat of the old American muscle car, a war trophy—old enough that it still worked, despite the EMPs. There were still a few such pre-digital vehicles around, although it was becoming a challenge to find gasoline that had not yet gone bad. Without a refinery, there soon wouldn’t be any more gasoline that worked, and then he’d be without a car. Of course, no refineries still functioned. Nor were there working tankers to get the oil from the well to the refinery. And no working wells to fill the tankers, for that matter. No, that world was dying, and in a year it would be gone entirely.

  Ree’s empire, however, would last much longer than that if he could only deal with the terrorists who bled him to death with a thousand tiny cuts. Beheading the Arab officers who had allowed Taggart to escape New York City had made him feel only slightly better, because he’d had a feeling in his gut about what was going to happen next. He had known he must prevent it if he could—and he had been right. Taggart had figured out Ree’s master plan: the large farms to the west, run by the People’s Worker Army, with defenses set up to deal with the kind of low-intensity conflicts he had expected. Still, Taggart’s cancer hadn’t spread all that far, not yet.

  “This situation is growing beyond our ability to control it,” Major Kim said as he drove slowly along the raised earthen embankment. “Rather, it is beyond my ability, Leader.”

  Ree didn’t look at him. It would be rude to so obviously watch the man squirm at his own poor choice of words, and he’d corrected himself after all. He kept his voice calm, to reassure the younger officer. “The incompetence of the Islamists has allowed a finely balanced game with Taggart to tip in his favor, but the incompetents have been dealt with. In the future, those ignorant sandy officers will drive their barbarian soldiers harder to succeed, if they will wish to avoid the same fate. The only way to motivate these disgusting savages is through chopping
off heads, it seems. I detest having to stoop to their level to get the point across, but what can one expect from such a people? It’s all they understand.”

  “Of course, Leader. It was wise and necessary to make the point in a way they would understand, even if distasteful and uncivilized. Still, we are left with the problem they created. The American terrorist, Taggart, runs amok and spreads his treason wherever he goes, yet we cannot divert troops to deal with him right now. The City is bubbling with activity as the other American rats fight amongst themselves and with us to build their own dying empires. Fools.”

  Ree nodded, finding himself in agreement with Kim. “True. Nor can we divert our frontier troops, because only they keep the dying hordes of Americans from ravaging our cantonment’s food areas here in New Jersey. I had hoped the American leadership’s leftovers wouldn’t be yong-ui mauseu, but they achieved their aims despite being the mouse to our cat. I have a plan to correct this situation.”

  “Yes, Leader. I have ordered ten of our People’s Centers, close to Taggart’s advance, to gather the People’s Worker Army under their care as you instructed. They await orders from your runners.”

  The car pulled into one of the “People’s Centers,” a military base that controlled a portion of land around it for the purposes of clearing and eventual spring farming. It had been Ree’s great idea to recreate the ancient feudal system here in America, with his officers as the lords, and his troops the mounted knights enforcing the lords’ rule over the American serfs. Of course, it was couched in terms of working for the People. Ha! The People. When did the people ever know anything? They needed the guidance of a Great Leader, so they could align their hearts and minds toward being productive for the common good. Otherwise, they only drank and begged. Even here in America, it was the same.

  His car stopped in front of the bunker-like fortress standing well away from the cluster of buildings used by the P.W.A. Ree climbed out, dusting off his trousers. “Get the scribe, or take notes yourself, Little Brother. We will need a record.”

  Of course Kim wasn’t going to be a secretary, so he got a lieutenant, using a blank pad of paper.

  Ree told the man, “Write this out, then write out ten more copies. I will keep one, and Major Kim will be honored to tell you where to send the other ten. My title is to go at the top, and I will sign them after lunch.” When the man was ready, Ree nodded in approval and said, “Take this note:

  The American terrorist comes. All those who aid or join his cause are already dead; our Great Leader has foreseen this, and so there can be no mistake. He has determined that your base is not tenable. All units are to withdraw to Base A-1A immediately, so that your lives may again be useful as we battle the American false ideals and the World Evil they spread.

  You will retrieve all items of military or other value and bring them with you, so their value will not pass to the American terrorist when he comes seeking to destroy your glorious People’s Worker Army.

  However, the Worker Army is not needed. Their lives have more value as a message to the terrorist, so that other lives can be saved. Nor can we leave them to be taken, lest their new honor, found in work for the People instead of for themselves, be tarnished through treason.

  It is therefore unfortunate but necessary that their lives be spent in delivering a message from the People to this terrorist. They cannot be brought, nor can they be left behind, and so their Next Highest Value is in delivering this message.

  Accordingly, assemble the Workers Army under your care, and in the timeliest method possible, using the least amount of useful materiel, you are to permanently deny their use to the enemy under General Orders 5A dated June 4th, 2016, in the General Orders Log provided to you by the Great Leader. The Log itself is to accompany you on your journey, but the page for General Orders 5A shall be affixed to a prominent building of no military value.

  All other assets that exceed what you can bring with you will likewise be denied to the enemy, burned so he is left only ashes.

  “Did you get all that?”

  The officer saluted smartly. “Yes, my Leader!”

  Ree watched the man leave to make the transcriptions. He had shown no outward emotion on hearing such a terrible, tragic order, and Ree inwardly smiled at the officer’s discipline. Such orders were necessary in war, as was the need to follow such orders. It required discipline.

  Ree turned to Kim. He brushed off his lapels and said, “It is sad, this loss of life, but no more sad than any other, and this will serve far greater purpose than most. And when Taggart finds so many thousands dead, their assets burned, he will know two things. First, we will leave him nothing further to survive from. Like a flea on a dog, he is sucking the very life from the glorious future of the new America.”

  “And the second, Big Brother? You said there were two lessons for the terrorist.”

  Ree frowned his carefully rehearsed expression and said, “He will know that there is no liberation from the People’s Worker Army. His misguided attempts to save his Americans from their glorious future will result only in their having no future at all. Let him contemplate that truth and see if he continues his course. A wise man would leave his fellows to their future and find some other region to plague. Let him bother General Park in Pennsylvania or General Yi in Virginia or Maryland, since they have refused my offers to lead them.”

  Major Kim bowed slightly, hesitantly.

  Ree let out a frustrated breath. “What troubles you?”

  Kim paused and then said, “Leader, this action came about after a message was received from an unknown American. I don’t know how this was accomplished, but I surmise the two events are connected.”

  Ree clamped down on any expression. He was fairly certain no hint showed on his face that he had very nearly struck the Major down on the spot. His pulse raced and his anger seethed. How dare he question… No. Killing Kim wouldn’t have value, he was a useful officer who shouldn’t be squandered. Ree of all people felt that emotion had no place in making decisions. Still, this called for a correction.

  Ree knew the correct course. He smiled, appearing for all the world like the friendly Big Brother Kim thought him to be. “Some burdens are for me alone, Major. But I suspect that what we are doing here today will motivate Taggart to follow his own orders more scrupulously. Americans are undisciplined, but I think we align his desires with his orders through this sacrifice we make for the greater good. How very astute of you to draw the correct conclusions, Major.”

  Maybe too astute. Ree made a mental note to find out who leaked that information, and their death would be slow and painful, held during his officer corps’ evening chow, if he had anything to say about it. Then Ree smiled… He was the only one who did have a say in it, and that was as it should be.

  * * *

  1945 HOURS - ZERO DAY +166

  Taggart crouched near a low fire set next to a now derelict ’vader vehicle, something like a crude Humvee. It acted as a shield against the faint breeze, hid the fire’s glow from at least one direction, and reflected heat back to the group. Eagan was trying to get their HAMnet up, whatever that was, so they could again communicate with Dark Ryder and get any information or instructions the 20s had passed to him since they left New York City. The 20s would be angry by now, he reflected, and shrugged as he picked at an MRE. He had taken it in order to let someone else have one of their precious few remaining real meals. Raiding ’vader bases often earned them real food, but fresh food didn’t keep well between raids.

  Eagan came into the fire’s circle of light and nodded, but didn’t salute. Taggart had given standing orders that no one was to salute while they were out there in the open, despite the patrols he had going. “Colonel, we had connection briefly, just long enough to get the back-chatter downloaded. I have it decoded.”

  Taggart took the thin stack of papers Eagan offered and glanced through them. Several attempts to get them to send a SITREP, of course, which he had expected. He had a growing suspici
on that the 20s somehow had been keeping an eye on him, probably through satellites. That was why he had asked Dark Ryder to keep the birds from watching him as he set up his breakout from the City, and it turned out to have been a wise idea. They were still asking, so they weren’t sure.

  “Think they have our location now that we’ve received these?” Taggart asked, flipping through the printouts one at a time.

  “I doubt it, but it’s possible,” Eagan answered thoughtfully. “At most, they’ll know we’re outside of the City somewhere. But the fires will tell them where to start looking.”

  Taggart hoped they were still clueless. Even knowing he’d left Manhattan would be dangerous if his suspicions about certain things proved correct. Then his eyes froze on one transmission, looking at the header information. His mind raced to decipher what had caught his attention. Something about that one…

  “Eagan, take a look at this message,” he said urgently. “Check the headers. What do you see?”

  Eagan stared hard at the offered sheet for the better part of a minute before one eyebrow went up. “Well—this could be nothing, but this one from Dark Ryder—the header isn’t right. They usually end in five-seven-three, but this one ends in one-six-three. Transmissions from him from before and after this one have the usual header numbers. It’s like his signature.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. What’s it mean?”

  “Garbled IP addresses, I think,” Eagan said, thinking as he went. “So he overrides them with a false IP address, but always uses the same false one even though it’s probably a dynamic IP. That means this one isn’t really from Dark Ryder.”

  Taggart nodded. It made sense. “It also wasn’t encoded with our usual back-channel cypher. Normally we have to decode it using a book, right?”

  “Yessir,” Eagan replied. “It’s a pretty ancient way to cipher, using two identical copies of the same book. Same edition, printing, everything. We have one, and he has the other, so his reports often come through as a series of garbage numbers and letters if he’s encoding it again with the standard cipher before transmitting it. Getting clear copy usually takes two operations.”