by G. R. Carter
Alex swung his cane as he walked. He carried it out of comfort now, not necessity, and to enhance the aura he needed to maintain. The silver hawk’s head on top of the oak shaft was ubiquitous with the Founder, as much a part of his identity as the cornfield camo duster he always wore on cold or damp days. There was spring to his step now, and the cane danced back and forth more than planted onto the ground.
Row after row of Razorbacks and Super Snappers sat quietly in the moonlight, brand new paint schemes unmarked by action. This unit had never been used in combat before, though many of the squad leaders had seen plenty of action against New America. When New America invaded, the overwhelming flanking attack of a fresh Red Hawk reserve force caused the American dictator Walsh to lose his capital city and his empire in one fell swoop. The idea didn’t have a name then, just an instinct Alex had to hold back a strong armored force to punch back at any enemy trying to attack Republic homelands.
Since that day Alex and his advisors had built two separate forces. The Self Defense Cooperative existed to protect Republic citizens from outside attacks, whether organized or from bandits. Besides a handful of permanent personnel, most were militia called to train two weekends a month and two weeks a year. Every Fortress Farm did training on site, and rotated residents to training in weapons and tactics. Every young man and woman did a rotation in the SDC, away from home in a different region of the Republic. When they were done, they would return to their farms or towns, ready to assist with community defense and the training of the next generation.
The Shield of the Okaw was different. Each member simply believed they were the best this world had to offer. The cleverest, the best trained; not just highly motivated fighters, but the leaders of this world’s future. Most grew up hearing stories about how their mothers and fathers fought desperate struggles for survival against the boogeymen who still haunted untamed areas of the countryside. Their aunts and uncles, many of whom were still squad commanders here, told remarkable tales of fighting New America Legions in the snow-swept plains. Others had relatives who served with the Founder on the walls of Shelbyville a few years back, when the black flags nearly overwhelmed the city’s defenses.
Each Silver Shield longed for their own stories to tell. They were young enough not to realize war was hell and adventure usually came with a terrible personal price. The Shield wanted to prove itself as a unit, and each member wanted to prove themselves on the field of battle.
He smiled, patted and jeered with some of the hundreds of men and women as they gathered around him. He motioned for some help and together those near the front lifted him up onto one of the armored vehicle’s decks. The group grew quiet, awaiting his orders.
“My brothers and sisters, we have given peace a chance. Our Republic has gone out its way to avoid conflict, to aid those in need, to try to solve differences with diplomacy instead of fighting. Scholars say warfare is the failure of politics. So I come tonight to apologize…”
The assembly was dead quiet; apologies weren’t particularly common from Alex Hamilton. “I apologize to you because I am a terrible politician!” Laughter broke the nervous tension as Alex continued.
“Most of you know by now that ARK has attacked and destroyed our friends in Mt. Horab. I’d like to give you all the reasons why but I for the life of me don’t know. Dreams of empire or ego…do the reasons really matter?” Murmurs turned to shouts from the assembly. He held up a hand and continued. “The fact is they’ve attacked our friends. We’ve done what we can to shelter the survivors. And I promise we’ll repay their debt someday.” Now murmurs turned to cheers and snarls.
“But as you have guessed, I haven’t gathered you here for someday, I’ve gathered you here for action. Action tonight. A very dangerous and difficult action against someone we thought was our friend, but has proven himself our enemy.” Silence settled in, each exchanged glances with their friends and then looked back to their Founder.
“Vincennes has decided to become a conqueror, to try to take over their neighbors with force. Brothers and sisters, I couldn’t save Mt. Horab, and I will regret that all of my days. Will you help me save others who right now are dying for their right to be free? To live and worship the way they choose?”
Thunderous shouts echoed off the metal of their war weapons. Alex fought back a sliver of doubt. Not all of these enthusiastic young warriors would return to their homes after all this was over. He might not either.
“Thank you, my brave warriors. I knew I could count on you. Please see your section commanders for your orders. We’ll be rolling right into battle, not stopping for anything but to refuel and rearm. Get yourselves squared away, we roll in thirty. Against the storm!”
“Eternal Republic!” roared the reply.
Alex gathered his breath and pulled himself to the top step of the engine compartment of his personal armored vehicle. He looked at the name painted on the side: Valkyrie stood out bright red, stenciled over the cornfield camo paint scheme. The name earned him a scolding from his brother. Alex himself a little uncomfortable at his own inside joke; the thought of choosing those who lived and died in battle was an impossibly heavy burden if he allowed it to be. A touch of macabre humor helped soldiers throughout history deal with the despair of battle; Alex hoped the same held true for his own soldiers.
A dark haze was beginning to cloud the portable lights surrounding the assembly yard. Engines were coughing to life, releasing black exhaust smoke into the air. The unmistakable smell of diesel fuel changed for those who worked around heavy machinery, from an overwhelming stench to a reassurance of the work ahead. Fuel meant movement. In this world, movement meant the difference between life and death.
He didn’t need to read the names to know the vehicles. Bushmaster, Iron Wolf, War Wagon, Mohican, Chief Illiniwek. Those were the ones closest to him, but sister vehicles stretched out to the left and right, taking on a final top-off of fuel that would get them to their final assembly point before lunging into battle. Each name was selected for a reason—sometimes only understood by the vehicle commander.
This was the cream of the Republic’s fighting forces. The finest vehicles Wizard engineers had ever produced. The core were new rubber-tracked Challengers, with a small guide wheel in the front and a large drive wheel in the back created from a design utilizing hundreds of tracked farm tractors littering the Midwest. He nodded to his friend and most trusted commander, Martin Fredericks. He’d made the overnight trip here from Mt. Vernon, unwilling to let his Founder go into battle without him. He’d be leading one of the columns, heading up the combined Razorback and Challenger forces.
The Razorbacks were too slow for a truly mobile offensive force, though they were perfect for defending the borders and pacifying areas bypassed by their faster cousins. While lighter, the Challengers still had plenty of backbone to handle the recoil of the 88-mm cannon mounted to the top of the frame, taking the place of where the driver once sat. That driver had moved to the front, a precarious position but compensated by a very well armored cocoon. The loader and gunner both were stationed in the back, each with a 50-caliber machine gun to use against uninvited guests on foot. Both of the tracked type vehicles would travel south riding on lowboy trailers pulled by over the road semi-tractors.
Valkyrie and her sisters were a new update of the original Snapping Turtle design created by the Wizards shortly after the Reset. The Super Snapper was now a proper mobile fighting vehicle, built from the ground up to carry both weapons and troops. Together, the combined vehicles of the Shield of the Okaw could maintain a twenty-mile-an-hour average road speed. Not exactly lighting, but not bad considering what they had to work with.
Celeste Ford would strangle him if he broke her Wizard’s beloved creations, but she didn’t like Alex much anyway. He intended to put each and every one of these beasts, and their handlers, squarely in harm’s way tonight. He prayed for surprise; a direct attack on a well-defended Vincennes would be a costly business. But instinct told h
im that the rulers of Vincennes had blood in their eyes, the first major conquest of what they believed to be a long and successful campaign against much weaker neighbors.
Bagpipes and a fiddle began to wail in the distance, the sharp notes coming from the only instruments capable carrying above the rumble of engines. Alex closed his eyes and let the notes of Amazing Grace filter in to his soul.
“God bless you, Founder Hamilton.”
Alex turned toward the voice. A brown leather clad figure with tattoos covering most of his visible skin gave a slight bow as their eyes met.
Alex smiled at what few would consider a friendly face. “Wasson of Saline. I know you’ve had little chance for rest. I wouldn’t be starting out on this campaign if it weren’t you and your Brother Trackers marking the trail for us.”
“I wish I could face the enemy at your side.”
“I wish that, too. But I will get vengeance for Governor Olsen and his mother. You have my word.”
The Tracker bowed his tattooed head to Alex.
“Wasson, I also want to thank you for making the trip north into Caliphate country for us. I wouldn’t ask you to go somewhere so dangerous, so far from home, if it wasn’t important.”
“Of course, Founder Hamilton. I go with confidence that you will keep my Shawnee home safe.”
“With my life, Wasson. With my life.”
Wasson put his hand to his heart, “I will be the terror of the terrible.”
“And I will be the hope of the hopeless,” Alex replied.
Wasson disappeared into the night like a shadow heading for the airfield and his long flight north to Caliphate country.
There was lots going on. A lot of wheels turning, literally in some cases. The people of the Republic were stirring. A great and angry giant stirring at the prodding of evil men. General Hopkins and his underlings thought the Red Hawks would sit on their side of the rivers in safety and watch the world burn. They thought Alex Hamilton was a shell of a man, a broken leader who would do anything to avoid a fight.
Too bad for them they made their wager before the attacks of Mt. Vernon. Vincennes had bet wrong. The Founder, the doom of his enemies, had returned.
Chapter Five
ARK City (Formerly St. Louis)
Renaissance Place – Capitol Building of ARK
Premier’s Office
Blind. I feel totally and utterly blind without him.
Tony Diamante stared at the sparkling glass in his hand. A shining gold inlaid lambda symbol represented everything his Uncle Jack had ever lived for, everything he fought for, everything he believed in. Now Uncle Jack was gone, snatched away from ARK in one fateful night. He still didn’t know who had pulled off the hit. Whoever it was made a mockery of their security, and the security of the Red Hawks who got hit at the same time. He had to appreciate the professionalism of his antagonists, even while he plotted his revenge.
Uncle Jack had been more than just family, even for a man who valued family over everything else. He was a true consigliere, an advisor with decades of conflict and conquest under his belt. Now when Tony needed counsel the most, he felt completely, absolutely alone.
He swirled the glass, watching a single ice cube spin around to barely cool the priceless pre-Reset scotch. This was from his favorite batch, a case he had been given by one of his rival law firms as a thank-you for opening ARK’s doors long enough for them to escape the destruction of the city right after darkness fell on the world. Every time he took a sip, the words I won followed the warmth of the liquor down deep into his soul.
The liquor wasn’t working tonight. This week was supposed to be the beginning of a new era, a move from being an organization into a nation…into an empire. He had accomplished his first goal; Mt. Horab was gone for good, and ARK now controlled the continent’s largest river and all its tributaries for as far south as he wanted. But the price…they were still counting, but it appeared a third of his men and vehicles had been lost.
The phone on his desk rang, shocking him out of his daze. Only one other person had this line, the only other person Tony could turn to for guidance. He picked up the receiver.
“I don’t appreciate you ignoring me for this long,” he said calmly, without a greeting.
“I’ve been busy. I assumed you were, too,” his wife Nicole answered.
“I could have used your advice.”
Tony could almost feel the steam come out of the phone. “You didn’t listen before, I decided not to waste my breath,” she replied. The steam turned to ice. “I warned you not to get into a fight with the Red Hawks. Not yet.”
“Would you have said the same thing if it had gone better?” he asked testily.
She ignored the spite. “They’re wealthier than us in every way that matters. Food, weapons, and most important, devotion.” The last part was meant as her own insult to a man who originated from a family supposedly worshipping at the altar of loyalty.
“But someday we’ll—”
“Then why not wait?” she interrupted. “Why did it have to be now? Especially since we know what’s coming from the north?”
“We don’t know anything for sure is going on there. All we have is rumors.”
“Well if you hadn’t pulled all of our Peacekeepers out of the upper Mississippi we would know for sure wouldn’t we? But you needed them for this little adventure. Now we’re blind to the Caliphate’s migration except for whatever info filters down through the river rats. And it’s not like the Red Hawks are going to share any information with us now.”
“I had to sweep the river clean. That was our plan, remember? For our kids? Whoever controls these waterways will control commerce for the next hundred years.”
“We have to make it a hundred years first. We’re lucky Hamilton’s Raptors aren’t dropping bombs on our heads right now.”
“He’d never attack ARK, at least not the city.”
“How can you be so sure? He’s going to be on a rampage. You know what he’s willing to sacrifice when his blood is up.”
“Because, Nicole. We have the ultimate trump card. We captured Essie. I told him if he didn’t attack us we’d keep Essie safe.”
Nicole was silent. “When exactly were you going to tell me this?”
“You wouldn’t talk to me. When could I?”
“Don’t play games with me, Tony. Where is she now?”
“With a group of Peacekeepers. They found her where her plane crash-landed. They’re bringing her here.”
Nicole’s voice went extra cold. “You better not let anything happen to her. I mean it.”
“Since when do you worry more about Hamilton’s sister than your own kind? ARK is just as much your creation as mine. I may have started it, but your grand schemes are what’s plastered all over the maps in this office,” he spat back.
“Precisely because I am worried about ARK, I’m warning you to keep Essie safe. Hamilton will destroy everything we’ve built if it takes his last breath.”
“You act like we’re some little backwater that can’t defend itself, Nicole. We’ve got just as many people, probably more. And our factories are producing everything we need now to fight back.”
“How’s our fuel situation without the pipeline to Grand Shawnee?” she asked. Her sarcasm made it clear she already knew the answer.
Without waiting for his reply, she continued, “What about wheat production? Our Kansas fields are under threat from Lopez’s Neuvos. One bad harvest and our reserves are depleted. Our estates won’t be producing enough for another couple of years and you just killed off several hundred of the best-trained men we have.”
Tony looked to his scotch, still searching for its elusive comfort. Both of his closest advisors were shut off to him; one by the grave and the other by simmering spite.
“What do you suggest?” he finally asked.
“Consolidate what you’ve won. Get the city defenses ready, just in case. Get Essie Hamilton into a Renaissance Center apartment. Don’t
let anyone know she’s there who doesn’t absolutely need to know. She killed the members of a lot of our powerful families, they’ll be wanting revenge.”
Nicole paused for thought. “I’ll be there in a few days. I’m going to take her back to Independence with me. She’ll be safer there, and Hamilton won’t get so many thoughts about trying a rescue. We’ll need her for leverage to save our asses until we can regroup.”
“Any other words of wisdom? Maybe I should turn the office over to you to run full-time,” Tony whined.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Nicole couldn’t see the stunned look on Tony’s face, but she could picture it. The satisfaction rang hollow. “Call in Maxwell and make sure he has the security cameras working and all the gates secure. He can use RenOne’s security program to monitor movements in and out. Any face it doesn’t recognize, have the Peacekeepers seize them and interrogate immediately. No delay, we’ve built the tools to keep Jijis from sneaking in, use them. But be careful with Maxwell. Remember, he was close to that creepy group working for Maryanne Olsen in Grand Shawnee. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t have something to do with the attack in Mt. Vernon.”
“That’s quite an accusation. If you think that’s true, why keep Maxwell around?”
“He’s still useful to us. We need him for the programming of RenTwo. He can keep an eye on Grapevine if it sends any other messages.”
“I’ll have Kathy supervise him directly,” Tony offered. Kathy Kingsley wasn’t a sister, she was a cousin, but she was still an important part of Tony’s advisory group since the Reset. Even with her recent dour mood and penchant for challenging Tony’s authority, she was still family.