“Don’t be a stranger.”
They watched Ashley run back toward the hospital.
They then noticed Abigail leave the building. Aleks used her whistle again, and started to jog toward Abigail, Torbin in trail. The two sisters met, hugged, laughed, cried, as Torbin watched. His stomach was still in knots. Finally, Abigail looked at Torbin, walked over to him.
“Abigail, I’m so sorry.”
“About what, big brother? Yes, Fuzz is dead. I will always have a hole in my heart for him. I hope you don’t take offense, but he was my best buddy, my best friend. You are my brother, but he was my best friend. Yet he died doing what he wanted to do. Protecting me.”
“I should have been there, damnit. Then I could have stopped them.”
Abigail saw Tobin’s eyes fill with tears. She grabbed and hugged him.
“If you were there, you might be dead, your wife a widow. Those thirty civilians you saved would be dead too. Maybe eaten.” She looked up at him.
“Please don’t beat yourself up. It was my choice. Now I know that the grays were following me. I’ll tell you the whole story later.”
Tears began to run down Tobin’s face. He started to turn away, as tough Marines don’t cry, but Abigail held on.
“There is nothing wrong about crying for a hero, a friend—even one with four legs.”
Torbin began to cry more and Aleks joined them in a group hug, all three crying. They knew that Fuzz was looking down on them in their sorrow and loss. He had saved so many of them, he would never be forgotten. The three comrades finally separated from their hug, wiping their eyes.
“Emily Anders brought Young Fuzz to me in the hospital, snapped me out of wherever I was,” began Abigail. “He will look exactly like his sire when he grows up. Only he has a small white star on his forehead.”
“You know,” said Torbin, “a Native American Marine told me once that a star like that on the forehead of an animal meant they had been touched by the Great Spirit. I think that fits this son of Fuzz to a “T”. I’m certain Fuzz had a connection with the boss upstairs.”
“We know that this youngster has a special connection,” declared Aleks. “He must have, to bring you, Abigail, back to the living.”
Abigail smiled. “Yes. Now I owe him like I owed Fuzz. But hopefully he won’t have to fight off any Eaters trying to get to you and you sons.”
“If it happens again, they will eat lead quite suddenly.” Aleks looked at Abigail a bit questioningly. “Well? Are you getting married or what?”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
Aleks snorted. “I am a trained intelligence operative. Besides, you went to Ichiro first, and it is written all over your face.”
Abigail blushed a bit. “I asked him. He said yes.”
Torbin laughed. “Leave it to the Avenging Angel to do it differently. Now what?”
Abigail’s face turned more serious. “I need to make a trip to Deseret. I have some questions about my…upbringing that I must pose to the Prophet.”
Now Torbin read between the lines. He knew that Abigail was definitely stronger, faster than she had a right to be. Although all feminine, her body acted like a steel coil. So she had a set of good reasons to be suspicious about what the doctors were doing during all those checkups.
He looked toward Aleks. “Think I can make a road trip?”
“No, Torbin.” Abigail jumped in. “Ichiro is coming with me. This is something we must do before we are married. He needs to hear the whole story also.”
Torbin looked at Abigail. He remembered when he first met her at Evanston, Wyoming. That seemed like a millennia ago.
“So, no more chances at a Wyoming ass drag?”
Abigail laughed. Then hugged him again. “No, big brother. You have stepped in enough gopher holes. This time, Ichiro will escort me.”
“Hell, you were escorting me, remember? Saved my bacon twice.”
“Then twice is enough. Now it is Ichiro’s turn.” Abigail paused, then added, “I need to go see General Reed, to explain this to him.”
“Hop into our vehicle, little sister,” Aleks said. “We will take you. I’m driving, so we will get there in one piece.”
“Insulted again, wife. Why do I put up with it?”
“Because you love me. Now, get in the car.”
As Abigail was “waking up”, an Armed Forces staff car was moving up the long Munsen driveway. Johann Munsen heard the car approach and stepped from the blacksmith forge area. Bruno, Hannah Weitz’s fellow Pit Survivor and now four-legged best buddy, began to trot down to meet the strange vehicle, growling.
“Hannah. Visitors,” Johann yelled out. He removed his heavy forge apron and his gloves, then grabbed an ancient double barreled shotgun. With the invasion of Bloody Kansas, nobody took any chances now. Hannah stepped out, having shed her blacksmith garb. From the shadows she produced a single bladed throwing axe of Viking design. She made them, and she had learned to use them. Bruno was already standing in front of the military vehicle, as if daring them to try and drive past.
Sergeant Pasqual stopped the vehicle, and said over his shoulder to General Reed, “I think this is as far they want us to go, Sir.”
“I think you’re right, Sergeant. Well, let’s un-ass the vehicle and try walking up.”
The two military men exited their vehicle and began to slowly walk forward. General Reed saw the figures approaching from the large outbuilding that he rightly determined was the blacksmith’s forge. He called out.
“General John Reed and Sergeant Pasqual come to talk with Miss Weitz. If that’s okay, that is.”
“Johann Munsen, General. I thought you looked familiar.” He turned to Hannah.
“Are you seeing visitors, Hannah?”
As she caught up to Uncle Johann, she smiled.
“Torbin Bender works for the General. And some of his men helped rescue me from the Pits. Of course I have time for him.”
She whistled softly and Bruno went back to her side, but still kept close watch on the two strange men as she approached them.
“You have quite the protector there, young lady.”
“Yes Sir. We met in and both survived the Pits. Now we’re family.”
“Well, Miss Weitz, all I have is a few questions about a matter that I think you can help me with. Sergeant.”
Sergeant Pasqual pulled a near eleven inch two edged knife, a real Arkansas Pig sticker with attitude, from under his military blouse. He presented it slowly to Hannah hilt first so as not to agitate the pit bull mix.
“I do believe this is your work, ma cherie,” the Sergeant said.
“By the way, sorry about my manners. This is Sergeant Pasqual, my driver and right hand man.”
Hannah smiled, took the knife with her left, put her right hand out to shake. With a flair of elegance Pasqual took her hand, bent over a bit and raised her hand to his lips.
“It is indeed a pleasure,” he commented.
Hannah grinned and giggled a bit. “My, aren’t we smooth. You must be from ‘Nar’lens’ , yes?”
Upon hearing the local pronunciation for New Orleans, Sgt. Pasqual’s ears perked up.
“You know the city, my dear?”
With that, Hannah broke into New Orleans French Cajun Patois, which brought a laugh and a grin to the Sergeant’s face.
“This young lady lived many years in the New Orleans area, General. She is almost a Cajun by adoption.”
“And yes, General, this is my work,” Hannah said with a smile.
“Well. Miss Weitz…”
“Please, call me Hannah. Miss Weitz is much too formal between friends. And you are my friend for helping rescue myself and the others.”
Not for the first time, General Reed marveled at how some young person, after facing hell during the last six years, had bounced back so quickly. And so strong.
“Alright, Hannah. I am asking you about this rather unique weapon as it, and many others like it, which f
igured strongly in the Rout of Salina a few days back.”
Hannah sighed. “Please, come into our house. I know Aunt Freda will provide you with some warm drinks, cider and such. The young ones are at school, so they’ll be sad they missed you. But this way we can talk without interruptions. The…story is quite simple. It goes by the name of Sisters of Steel.”
A little over an hour later, Pasqual backed out and turned around the staff vehicle.
“Well, General, that was nice apple cider. I swear it had a bit of a kick to it. Maybe a little moonshine?”
General Reed chuckled. “Yes. I’d have to agree. Maybe they were trying to ply us with some alcohol. But Hannah was not afraid to tell us the whole story. Looks like there were some seventy two members of this Sisters of Steel group that was started. At least that was the number of those large daggers she made. What did she say was the basis for her design?”
“Roman Puglio, General. I’m into knives and blades, so I’ve seen pictures of them. Nasty secondary weapons for Legionaries. She is making a modern high quality steel version of them.”
“Well, Sergeant, it’s the people carrying them that I’m worried about the most. They are just pieces of sharp steel until someone picks them up and uses them.”
General Reed sat in thought for a few minutes. The problem he had was, what to do with a group of women that could easily turn into a vigilante group? Not to mention what to do with all those who made the unauthorized, even though very successful, Rout of Salina night attack. He could not allow a bunch of troops just go off half-cocked anytime they wanted. General Reed began to grin. Sergeant Pasqual glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the grin, one he had come to know well.
“Solution, Sir?”
“Yes, Sergeant. When you can’t beat them, you join them. Or in this case, get them to join us. All I have to do is to convince everyone that an All-Female Unit is not sexist or segregationist.”
As Abigail headed to General Reed’s Office, and General Reed was returning from the Munsen’s homestead, Pararescue Chief Thompson was cleaning his equipment, the first chance he had during the last three days. He noticed something he had forgotten about in one of the pockets of his tactical bag. Sergeant Dark Wolf had given him a small digital camera with its memory chip, told him it was a recording of the area around Abigail Young. He remembered the Sergeant had said something about what he had recorded, but the Chief had been so busy he had forgotten.
“Well, might as well have a look,” he said to himself.
The Chief made sure the memory chip was in, turned on the camera, and looked at the screen as he played the recorded information.
“Holy crap!”
Major Lea Gabrielle was both an A-10 Pilot and now the commander of the Pararescue Unit. She was actually the last known survivor of the last Strike Package the U.S. Air Force tried against Tschaaa invasion units. Twelve fighters and fighter-bombers went out on the thirtieth day of the Invasion, the then Lieutenant, now Major, had limped back and bellied in her A-10 on McConnell Air Force Base near Wichita, Kansas. Gun camera film showed she had made a direct hit on a harvester ark and had knocked down a delta that tried to shoot her down. She had then made her way up to Malmstrom, as McConnell had been hard hit by deltas and Falcons. She was very familiar with cursing and swearing of all sorts in various situations. However, Chief Thompson was not easily shaken, nor prone to outbursts.
Major Gabrielle got up from her desk, started heading to the ready room where the Chief had been cleaning his gear. She limped a bit, the cold weather aggravating an old wound.
What’s up, Chief?” She saw him staring at the flip out screen of a small digital camera, with, for the first time she had ever seen, a shocked look on his face.
“Ma’am. You need to look at this.”
Lea worked her way around behind the Chief’s chair. Looked at the small flip out screen of the digital camera. And froze.
“Where’d you get this?”
“From the Wyoming Mounted Militia Sergeant. When we rescued Captain Young. He said it was a record of what he found when he located Captain Young.”
“Anyone else see this?”
“No Ma’am. I’d forgotten about it.”
The Major paused, still looking at the rolling record on the screen.
“So the Captain, she…”
“I think so, Ma’am. Judging by what we had to do to get her on the chopper.”
Major Gabrielle took a deep breath, let it out.
“Bring it to my office. We need to get this to Intel first. Then…hell, I’ll let the Chain of Command decide then. Come on.”
The two former USAF personnel walked to her office, where she shut her door.
“Goes without saying this is classified as of this moment, Chief.”
“Yes Ma’am. I gathered as much.”
The pilot looked down at the digital camera.
“This is a record of a special type of hell. A type of hell a special person was put through, and where a War Dog died. We need to remember that.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Lea Gabrielle picked up her telephone.
Nothing was ever quite the same.
Abigail was waiting outside the General’s office when he arrived back. Torbin had called ahead to warn Master Sergeant Johansson that Abigail was coming, so that he would not think he was seeing a ghost. As it was, he tried to hover over her like an old hen. Finally Abigail said, “Sergeant Johansson, please. I am alright now. My doctors know I am out. Trust me, I’ll be just fine with the General.”
So now she sat drinking a cup of tea while waiting for her General. Then he was there, smiling. She stood up. “General Reed….”
“To say you had us worried is the greatest understatement of the year, Captain. Sergeants, could you please leave us.”
“General, I…” Sergeant Johansson began to say.
“Did I stutter?”
“No Sir, General.”
“Come with me, Master Sergeant,” Pasqual interjected. “I’ll buy you a coffee at the canteen. They just got some new home grown beans in that are quite good.” With that the two NCO’s left Abigail and the General alone.
“General, Sir, I am sorry…,” Abigail began. Before she could continue John Reed had her in a hug.
“Please do not do that again, Captain, Abigail. This old man can’t take many more scares like that.”
Only then did Abigail notice the tears on the General’s cheek. She hugged him back, began to cry in her adopted father's embrace. They hugged for a few more moments, then separated.
“So much for military decorum. But sometimes even a General needs to break standard codes of behavior.” Abigail found a handkerchief Madam President had given her, dabbed her eyes. She looked into General Reed’s eyes.
“I and Ichiro are to be married. I want you to give me away as my father, for that is what you have become. My adopted father.”
General Reed swallowed, then answered. “Abigail, I would be honored.”
“But first, General, Ichiro and I need to take a trip to Deseret. There are some…answers I must obtain.”
General Reed let out a sigh. “I was afraid of that. Yes, I have received some briefings from Colonel Bardun. So I know the ramifications of those answers you are to obtain. I don’t suppose me trying to stop you would do any good, would it?”
“I would just pull diplomatic rank on you, General. Remember? You cannot stop me from visiting the nation state I represent.”
General Reed grunted. “Too damned smart for you own good. I suppose I also have to let Ichiro go with you to make sure you get back. Though I doubt if I could stop him from going, from what I have heard.”
“No General. He would become a Ronin, in the grandest sense of the term.”
General Reed looked at her. “When do you want to leave?”
“Tomorrow, if possible.”
“Give me one more day. I’ll get you a new vehicle. Okay?”
Abigail grin
ned. “Deal, General. Thank you, and everyone else here at Malmstrom for…caring. You are family, now.”
“Well. Captain, I warn you that you may have a special new assignment when you get back. I need you and Major Smirnov’s help with a …special problem.”
“Anything, Sir. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“Hell, Captain. We’re family, remember? We don’t worry about repayment. You just get back in one piece with Ichiro.”
“Yes Sir. Yes General.” Abigail backed up, and saluted. The General returned it, then she stepped up and kissed his cheek, did an about face and left.
The General stood quietly for a few moments, then thought of his wife.
“Babe, I would like to think a daughter of ours would be like her,” he whispered to himself and to her. “If you can, help me with this adopted one.”
CHAPTER 19
NORTH DAKOTA-MINNESOTA BORDER
Staff Sergeant Barry Bond was looking through the mist, fog and snow into Minnesota. He had been assigned to support the Port of Entry outside of the former Grand Forks Air Force Base near Grand Forks, North Dakota. The POE was located some to 20 miles east from the base, on former Highway 2. Some of the younger troops had been kvetching about missing all the action in Bloody Kansas, but he was not one of them. Just staying alive the last six years was enough action for him. The Entry Control Point was a couple of double wide trailers hooked together, with decent heat, hot coffee, hot food, and bunks to use. A hell of a lot better than freezing in a foxhole.
Sgt. Bond had a twelve man squad plus a three person heavy weapons team that kept a 81mm mortar and a 50 Caliber operational for squad use. In addition, there were six customs and immigration inspectors assigned there. They had a house some mile away they lived in, rotating out every sixty days. Add a couple of mobile border patrol agents and they had their own little community. They were evenly split between the genders, so Staff Sergeant Bond had to remind his troops not to spend most of their time trying to see who they could sleep with tonight. Every few days he sent a couple on a twenty-four hour pass to Grand Forks proper so they could have some out of uniform fun time.
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