Against the Storm: A Fortress Farm Novel

by G. R. Carter

  The realization dawned on him that he had taken the man’s weapon, but no extra magazines. Likely the long burst he just fired had expended most of his available rounds. He sat and huffed for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and come up with a plan. Could run, I guess. Find a way to get help. But then it would be too late to stop these guys. They’ll get the men and the boats and probably our plans. Besides, they hurt my men. His pride said they shouldn’t get away with that kind of thing. As the seconds ticked by, he became more desperate for a solution. His mind was so intent on searching for a solution that he failed to notice the black-clad man now standing next to him, long-barreled rifle pointed at his face.

  “Don’t move, river rat,” the voice growled. Levi flinched, nearly bringing the rifle to bear but catching himself. “The only reason I’m leaving you alive is to help us find what we’re looking for. Screw that up and I’ll gut you and throw you in the river for the gar to finish. You got me?”

  Levi nodded his head, not sure if the man could see him but his mouth was too dry to speak. “L.T., I got him,” the man shouted in.

  “Good work,” the inside voice replied. “Give us a second, we’re coming out.”

  Levi tried to catch his breath, feeling all the adrenaline turning his brain and stomach into knots.

  “Grenade!” the voice from inside shouted, then a crashing explosion lit up the boat again. Distracted by the surprise, Levi’s captor took his eyes off him for just a moment. Levi sprung back to his feet, grabbing the ARK commando by the arms and head-butting him with all his force. The ARK man was strong even while stunned, trying to wrestle himself away. But Levi was a river rat, a deckhand who fought metal and the river every daylight hour of every day; hand-to-hand training couldn’t replicate that in a gym, not even in military exercise. Rage at the damage done to his friends and his work gave him extra strength as he squeezed the breath out of the man. Finally Levi gave a mighty twist at the head and shoulders, and the commando fell to the deck floor like a sack of potatoes.

  “Cooper! Chief? You guys in there?”

  He picked up the dead commando’s weapon, making sure the safety was off this time, then grabbed two extra magazines from the belt he wore. He crouch-walked around the bow deck, the way the man had snuck up on him. He peeked through a window, trying to spot any kind of movement. He didn’t want to fire randomly, hoping some of his men still lived.

  “We give up!” he heard from inside. A different voice than before, and this one sounded hurt. “This wasn’t our idea, don’t kill us for it.”

  “You’re lying. How many are still left in there?”

  “Just the crew. Name’s Bisso. I served on Firefly. Me and three other guys are here, but the guys who came to get us are all down, dead I think. Someone pulled a grenade and tackled them.”

  “Levi, it’s me, Cooper,” his comrade shouted from inside. “The guy’s telling the truth. Chief took them all out with that grenade. I don’t know if there’s more outside, but they’re all dead in here.”

  “Okay, Mr. Cooper. I’m coming in,” Levi yelled back. He paused for a moment. Outside? Were these guys alone? Is there a boat out there with more men?

  “Hey you, Bisso,” Levi asked, still shouting through the window. “How’d those guys get here? They got a ship coming to pick you up?”

  “Nah. We were supposed to drive Firefly out of here, gonna tow Wasp with her. Be back upstream before anybody realized we were gone,” Bisso answered.

  Levi was inside by the time he finished the sentence.

  “Get up here and help me tend to the wounded,” he shouted at the man. “Mr. Cooper, how bad you hurt?”

  “Just a broken arm, I think. Shock’s starting to wear off so it hurts like the devil. Give me a hand splinting it and I can help see about some of the other guys.”

  Levi lit a lamp, then got Cooper’s arm in a sling, all while keeping an eye on Bisso and the others. “Mr. Cooper, you think we can get on the wireless and radio for help?”

  Cooper nodded. “I believe so. But I’m not sure anyone is close right now. And I’m guessing this won’t be the last we see of ARK. Once they realize this group failed, they probably won’t be so subtle next time.”

  “Subtle, right. Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We get all the wounded onto those ARK boats. Then we’ll take them down river to home as fast as we can. At least we’ll run into someone friendly not too far from here, right? Get our guys home, scuttle those cursed boats if needs be.”

  “Let’s do it. That first grenade that went off in here was a concussion blast, so hopefully some of the guys are just knocked out. I should be able to get them to come around with the smelling salts in the first aid kit,” Cooper said.

  “Alright. I’ll take our friend Bisso here and get those boats to movin’. Then we’ll see about getting our guys on board. Let’s hurry, Mr. Cooper, time’s running out on us.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sky above Grand Tower Island

  Mississippi River (Southern Flow)

  Year 12.09 A.G.R. (After the Great Reset)

  Eight Days after the Battle for Kaskaskia

  Admiral Elias Romano watched as Grand Tower Island came into view from 1500 feet up. He kept the nose of ARKShip Tulsa pointed directly over the brown strip of river below, leading him to a green-gray colored teardrop shape sitting directly in the middle of the channel. According to his map, this was the landmark pointing to their target. From the island, he scanned the eastern bank, searching for any signs of recent human activity. The river wasn’t kind to the hand of man. Even with the destruction of the northern levees, the grand old man still escaped his banks every couple of years. Without constant maintenance of humans, the irresistible force swept clean most of their creations reclaiming the land inch by inch in the less than two decades since nine in ten folks perished.

  That was bad for ARK ground-pounders who couldn’t seem to find anything in the tangled undergrowth below. Trees that would one day soar to the sky were still fighting their way up through the sharp brambles that grew several feet a year. Ribbons of asphalt roads still crisscrossed the landscape, but here the constant weather changes and humidity wrecked event that.

  That left two efficient options for travel: water and sky. ARK’s vaunted brown water navy had been whipped in its first encounter with anything stronger than a few villagers in fishing boats. The task of imposing ARK’s will on the Mt. Horab troublemakers was now in the hands of the Sky Fleet.

  Signs of life finally appeared. Metal barges lashed together looked like small red rectangles, anchored to a concrete pier jutting out into the brown water. The wind bore from the southwest today, a stroke of happy luck that meant reduced speed on the trip here but an easier run over target. No side winds to throw off the still improving art of navigating ARK’s newest attack airships.

  Just in front of him, mounted in the front of the gondola, was a large camera automatically taking a picture every few seconds to be pieced together later by ARK intelligence. Tulsa’s first run over the target would be solely for that purpose. Then he would return for a second pass, still taking pictures to gather any views missed the first time—but this pass would conclude with him dropping his entire payload of high explosive 100-pound bombs. Immediately following Tulsa’s bombing pass, her three sister ships holding in pattern just a mile away would then make identical runs.

  The squadron Romano commanded today had a mission simple in execution, but nearly incomprehensible in consequences. Romano’s airships were to sink any ships docked at Grand Tower, especially captured ARK ships, and level the entire complex to the ground. In all likelihood today’s actions would bring about open warfare with Mt. Horab, a thought Romano tried to push from his mind. His orders were his orders, and no Citizen of ARK questioned orders. At least there wouldn’t be any resistance. His squadron had trained over the Northern Caliphate, learning to dodge the occasional ground-fired RPG, and ARK Intelligence said the Buckles didn’t have any of those. So
me part of him was relieved to be fighting civilized enemies. The thought of being shot down or having a mechanical failure in Caliphate territory was the specific reason he kept his sidearm with him to this day.

  He settled his mind into the task, watching for ARK’s two captured ships. He scanned around the windows of the gondola, looking for any irregular camouflage, maybe something hidden under a tarp or along the shoreline ahead. He saw nothing, trying to think where the Buckles may have hidden the large and conspicuous boats. Intelligence told him that both ship’s crews had been killed and the Buckles had no way to operate the ships themselves. Could they have scuttled them? Perhaps, but it would have to have been in the main channel. Shallow water would allow him to see a ship’s outline from up here.

  “Lieutenant Thomas, prepare the skyship for a live pass. We will be weapons free the next time through. Tell the bombardier we will focus on the barges tethered to the pier. Let the rest have a go at the base itself,” Romano commanded. “Then put us into a holding pattern above after the run. Give me all eyes on board to the windows. We need to find those the missing boats.”

  “Aye-aye, Admiral,” the young woman replied. “Bringing her about in 3, 2, 1, mark.” She picked up a radio tube, “Bombardier, this is a live run. You are to target the barges tethered to the pier. Reply confirmed.” She held the tube up to her ear, then turned to Romano. “Target confirmed, Admiral.”

  Romano nodded. He felt the big airship shudder a little as she began to turn. The nose came up slightly, and he leaned into the pitch with experienced legs. The ship settled back in after a moment, and he felt the engines throttle down as the winds now at her tail pushed Tulsa a little faster. The exhilaration of a live target run never got old; even now he could feel his heart pounding with adrenaline. He did the countdown in his head, finally feeling the lurch as thousands of pounds of metal and explosives were loosed from Tulsa’s aluminum belly. The engines gunned, giving her altitude and speed. Just in case there were things that went boom on those barges, he wanted to get clear of the target. The crew bristled with excitement, anxious to see the fascinating sight.

  Romano watched with approval as the Keokuk started her run, straight as an arrow lined up with the island’s concrete fortress. The structures appeared half completed, soon to become a leveled mass of twisted rock and rebar. His attention diverted back to his own work, watching in grim satisfaction as the old riverboat sitting near the targeted barges burned from Tulsa’s delivery.

  A flash of silver streaked past the corner of his eye, towards the direction of Keokuk. He brought his eyes back, confused at what looked like tiny rips appearing in the skyship’s metal skin. Cancerous flames began to eat away its shape, rapidly spreading across the contours and exposing Keokuk’s frame. Confused shouts overcame the normally disciplined bridge crew, watching as ARK’s lambda symbol melted away and the ship broke into pieces in gravity’s grasp.

  Hydrogen, Romano thought in terror. Originally designed to fly only with non-flammable helium, this squadron’s airships had been refitted to fly with the highly dangerous hydrogen—the payload of bombs and crew could be greatly increased with the flammable gas. No one besides the Red Hawk Republic and ARK had planes capable of shooting at the airships, and no one had anti-aircraft guns…

  The silver streak now banked, giving Romano a good view of the unexpected guest. He kept his eyes on the plane, and away from the plummeting Keokuk sinking below his vision.

  As calmly as he could muster, he began to issue orders. “Lieutenant, get on the wireless and tell ARK command we are under air attack. Forces unknown. Keokuk is down and presumed lost. Give us full speed back to Kaskaskia Station, and signal the rest of the squadron to lose their payloads and follow with all haste.”

  “Aye-aye, Admiral.”

  “And tell the Gatling to let loose some rounds, especially if that plane comes close. I don’t care if the stupid thing is pointed earthbound, give this bugger something to think about before making a pass at us.”

  As if on cue, the plane pulled up and gained altitude on the Tulsa. It was an ugly bird, with a large rectangular canopy, tall fuselage and stubby wings. The Raptors that the Red Hawks flew weren’t exactly things of beauty, but this one had none of the clumsy charm of the Republic planes. The only visible markings were on the upright tail. Romano grabbed his binoculars and finally got a close enough look; a pommel-up sword with two roses intertwined.

  “Send another message, tell them we know who it is. We’re under attack by at least one plane out of Mt. Horab. I’ve confirmed the markings.”

  He lost sight of the plane as it climbed over the top of Tulsa. Romano forced the bile down from the back of his throat. He felt like a sitting duck, no way to fight back against an opponent faster and better armed. He waited for the shudder and drop in altitude that would mean his airship was burning, too. He unconsciously reached down and touched his holster. No way would he burn to death on the way down, he’d make quick work of it before it came to that.

  Instead the plane flashed past in front, nose tilted down towards the Topeka. The pilot must have figured Tulsa had done all the damage it could, so he was aiming for the ones he thought might still have full bomb bays. Smart pilot, not out for revenge, Romano thought. Well, not yet, probably saving us for last. The relief at not being the target turned to disgust as he watched white smoke pour from their tormentor’s silver wings. Streaks reached out, making tiny yellow flashes against the Topeka. The graceful airship tried to turn away, staggered and began to sink, disintegrating into burning pieces. Finally it broke in half, crumpling like a leaf in the hands of an angry god. Romano watched the hellish descent, knowing that the dozen men and women on board would be dead in mere moments. That made twenty-four highly trained crew and two meticulously created airships, half his squadron, gone in sixty seconds.

  The plane made another bank and buzzed over Omaha twice. Then it circled around the gondola of Tulsa’s remaining sister ship, letting the crew get a good look at the markings of their stalker. He’s decided we can’t shoot back. Now he’s torturing his prey before killing it, Romano thought. Tulsa’s engines were at full blast, but even so they would only do about eighty miles an hour on the run north. The Mt. Horab pilot could kill them all at any time he wanted, and he clearly wanted all of ARK to know it.

  The plane broke off contact with Omaha and climbed back up to duplicate the same stunt with Tulsa. This time the Buckle plane throttled back and pulled up alongside the bridge windows. The pilot pulled off his goggles and hat then pointed right into the command window, as though calling out whoever was in charge. Romano could see every detail of the pilot’s face, softer in structure than he expected…it wasn’t a man, but a woman. Her hair was pulled up, but some loose strands flew around inside the breezy cockpit. She wore a leather flight jacket, chocolate brown except for a green and silver patch on the arm.

  There was no doubt about the emotion on her face, a murderous glare making her seem much older than her smooth tan skin and light brown hair suggested. She looked straight through the windows at him, took two fingers and pointed them at eyes that radiated like blue neon, then swung her hand around and pointed the fingers at the Tulsa. I’m watching you, I can see you, Romano muttered to himself. That’s what she wants to tell me. Is she out of ammunition, or is she trying to prove a point? Anxiety turned to relief as the Buckle pilot put her hat and goggles back on, then pulled away and headed back south.

  The airship engines continued to roar, but still Romano could hear someone behind him sob quietly. He didn’t hold it against them. He resisted the urge to spit on the floor, to clear the vomit that bubbled up in the back of his mouth. Just minutes ago he thought he was the ruler of the skies. But a girl in a boxy old trainer plane with a couple of cannons mounted on the wings had destroyed years of building and training in the blink of an eye. What am I going to tell Premier Diamante?

  Chapter Eleven

  Just outside Columbia, MO

 
ARK Estate Tarabelle, Home of Admiral Elias Romano

  Year 12.09 A.G.R. (After the Great Reset)

  One Week after the Battle of Grand Tower Island

  Tony felt each bump of the tracks reverberate through his private train car. The rich leather chairs rivaled those in the posh offices of City Center. Between the beautiful wood trim and lush decorations, it was easy to forget he was on a train doing forty miles an hour, headed west to visit subjects of his ever growing empire. He glanced out the window, spotting the occasional pocket of civilization; ARK estates were plentiful close to the City, less so here. Citizens living in the towers were each granted a land parcel along major railways and roadways, plus a yearly budget for improving the homestead. Those who wanted to improve their Citizen scores did more with it than others, and the further away from the bright white towers a piece was, the less likely someone would spend time working on it.

  Estates closer to waypoints like Columbia were being developed faster. Skyships made daily stops at the nearest ones. Columbia was only about 120 miles away, making it far enough away to be out from under the mother city’s ever-watchful eye, but close enough to get back and forth easily. There were ten estates currently under construction here, joining with ten already completed in the years since the Reset.

  Tony looked over the file for his first visit today. The folder was thick with information. The Romano family was one of the originals, Paula Romano being mayor of St. Louis the first day in the dark; the day the Diamante family took control of a city—which then became the capital of a new nation. Mayor Romano was quickly on board and had been instrumental in helping organize municipal employees to get work done efficiently. For her service she had been rewarded handsomely, as had each of her four children and multitude of grandchildren. She wasn’t family, but she was close.