Abigail blinked back tears. “General, I don’t know what to say.”
“What, a woman with nothing to say? Wait, that’s kind of sexist. Ah hell, we know it’s true, so sue me. Major Yamamoto, do the honors, please.”
“Would you assist him, please, Sir?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
General Reed pinned the Gold Oak Leaf on her left as Ichiro did it to her right. As he did, he continued explaining.
“I have in my office papers spelling out a proposed formal relationship between Deseret and us. They will be providing us with equipment and personnel, their manufacturing grid being already up and running at near full capacity.” He stepped back and admired his handiwork.
“That special cross in the middle of your rank befits you, Abigail. A Christian soldier as of old, fighting evil wherever it is.”
“Sir, I have hurt, killed people. I don’t know how worthy I am of that title.”
“Abby, please,” Ichiro interrupted. “You killed because it was necessary. But in your heart and soul you are good, will always help those in need. You would make a good samurai.”
She managed for once to hold back her tears. Then she straighten up, and saluted.
“Major Jorgensen reporting for duty, General Reed.”
The General chuckled. “Yes, you’ll have to have some new name tags made. Some more new ones if you take Ichiro’s name when you are married.”
“Of course I’ll take his name. I will be honored to be his wife.”
“Well, that’s all settled. So, day after tomorrow, you get to take on a new and bigger assignment befitting your new rank.”
“What would that be, General?”
“Well, partly thanks to you, I have a bunch of female soldiers who decided to disobey orders and completely screw up some best laid plans. But, since it worked out much better than we could ever hope for, I’m having trouble figuring out what to do with them. So guess what? You and your big sister, Major Smirnoff, get to help me decide how to use them and not have to court martial them. I have in mind a special unit that can be turned into a punishment battalion if things do not work out. Quick and dirty, it all started out with people calling themselves Sisters of Steel…”
CHAPTER 23
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Malcolm Carter sat eating a bowl of oatmeal that tasted like it had a bit of sawdust added to stretch it out. Which it probably had. They were doing everything in Atlanta possible to stretch their food supplies. And they were reaching the breaking point.
Malcolm looked out his underground bunker headquarters. Over at a desk in the far corner, Red, Bollywood actress lookalike, was crunching the numbers on everything. Food, medical supplies, weapons, ammunition, and shelter, were all balanced against the known numbers of surviving people of color in Atlanta. According to the information they had, some fifty thousand men, women and children were still living, if you could call it that, in the city of Atlanta. Living and hiding, trying to survive more on hope and stubbornness than anything.
Big Joe and Dawoud entered the bunker, back from a foot recon, assessing the conditions of the entire infrastructure. At least what was left.
Malcolm noticed that even Big Joe was beginning to look a little haggard, his large frame not filling out his clothes as they used to. Dawoud always looked slender, taunt and wiry. But Malcolm thought he even looked like he had dropped some weight.
“So, gentlemen, what’s the news?”
“Well, my leader,” the former Islamic Terrorist began. “Do you wish the bad news or the good news first?”
“There’s good news? Leave that until last. I like to end things on a positive note.”
“A dozen men, women and children tried to escape last night through a southwestern sentry point. They killed two human guards, left a couple corpses of their own behind. But most seemed to have made it through.”
Malcolm grunted. “The Krakens and Squids must be slacking. Or they are losing interest in us. I’d like to believe the latter. But why is that bad news?”
“Expect retaliation, my leader. At least from the Krakens. We people of color just killed two of theirs. That is a blow to their ego.”
Malcolm barked out a laugh. “What are they going to do? Starve us? They already are. Some people here think a quick death would be a blessing.”
“Well, Boss,” Big Joe interjected. “Where there is life, there is hope.”
“Ever the optimist, my large friend. So what’s the good news?”
“Food, boss. The pigeons are coming along nicely, as well as the guinea pigs. So, we have a small amount of fresh meat.”
Dawoud added, “Mister Joe and I stumbled upon a new large colony of rats. They apparently found a new undiscovered path or tunnel from the outside, as we were through that area last week and saw no signs of vermin.”
Malcolm’s ears perked up. “Maybe an unknown drainage, sewer pipe me missed?”
“That is what I hope. If we find it before the Demon Djinns do, we may have a way for supplies to come in and people out.”
“Yeah, but if ‘out’ where will they go?”
“Maybe the border with the Feral area. At least they will not be trapped and starving.”
Malcolm was silent in thought for a brief moment. “I’d like to believe the answer was ‘just get out’, escape. But without support from the outside, the Unoccupied States, we still are just Cattle in a larger pen. I thought a general revolt after the nuke attack would lead to the borders of Cattle Country collapsing. But I was wrong.”
“You had to try, Boss,” Big Joe said.
“That we did. But it may be out of the frying pan, into the fire. Dawoud, any more word from your people in the U.S.A.?”
Dawoud shrugged. “We received those two small supply balloons last week, the first in a month. Some medical supplies, a weapon and a little ammunition. Plus some potatoes gone to seed that we planted, are coming along nicely. But now someone is trying to jam our communications, for the first time ever.”
Malcolm’s brow furrowed. “Now? Something different is going to happen. Double the lookouts, gentlemen, have them watch for a higher level of activity outside the fence.”
The landline rang, and Red answered it. A short flurry of conversation, then she called out.
“Mayor. A Falcon is coming.”
“Ah fuck. That’s never good. Come on, gentlemen—to those periscopes Professor Gupta built for us.”
The main source for the Atlanta weapons and equipment industry had set up some periscopes and telescopes by which Malcolm and his staff could view what was going on from hiding near the Headquarters bunker. Five minutes later they each were scanning a section of the downtown.
“Nothing so far, Boss…,” Big Joe began. Then a rain began. A red rain.
“Those sick bastards.” Malcolm yelled out. “They did it again.”
The remains of the apparent escapees were returned to the center of Atlanta in the form of a red rain and fine mist. Every human had apparently been ground up into a fine slurry, and were now being dumped as a reminder as to who was really in charge. The fact was that the Tschaaa were more than willing to waste good dark meat to make a point.
“So much for ending on a positive note. Joe, Dawoud, Red, call out and make sure everyone stays undercover. This may just be the beginning of something bad.”
CHAPTER 24
MALMSTROM ARMED FORCES BASE
MONTANA
General Reed looked out from offstage at the group of women in uniform standing at ease in the auditorium. Ninety-eight women were on the floor, several still sporting bandages and slings. He knew two others were still in guarded condition in the Base Hospital, recovering from their wounds. Up on stage with newly promoted Lt. Colonel Smirnov and Major Jorgenson fka Young was a certain Russian Senior Sergeant Marina Roskova, the oldest of the one hundred and one women soldiers that had started the Great Rout of Bloody Kansas.
What they had accomplished was t
he stuff of legends. However, they had disobeyed orders, big time. There were either lucky or blessed that it had turned out the way it had. A hundred and one had gone between enemy lines, and a hundred and one had made it back, although it was questionable whether the two in the hospital would return to active duty. Yet, a bunch of soldiers just can’t run off and start killing people without orders. Actions like that often derailed the best laid plans of Generals like John Reed, with often dire results.
Therefore, General Reed needed to insure this did not happen again. Especially by an independent minded group of females who had formed something called the Sisters of Steel.
As the General stepped from off stage, Senior Sergeant Roskova barked everyone to attention. He walked to the center, Lt. Colonel Smirnov saluting as senior ranking member of the formation.
“General Reed. Everyone present and accounted for as ordered.”
He snapped a salute back. “Good. Put them at Parade Rest, Colonel.”
“Formation. Parade…Rest.” As one, the women assumed the position. They were already acting in perfect unison, a good sign to the General. John Reed walked to the center of the stage, surveying the assembled womanhood. He saw in them a sense of purpose, a unity that he wished he saw in more members of the human race. He began.
“The General is not happy this morning. I am not happy because, instead of dealing with the myriad of other problems and demands of being the Supreme Commanding General of the Combined Armed Forces, I have to be here.”
He paused for a moment, letting them wonder what was coming next.
“Instead, I have to deal with a bunch of female soldiers who do not know how to follow orders.” The last part he bellowed out, something he rarely did. When General Reed bellowed, you knew you were knee deep in the shit.
“Only sheer luck and the Grace of God kept a bunch of you out of body bags. Or on some Kraken’s fire spit as a hunk of Long Pig. That stunt you pulled should have gone wrong in dozens of ways.”
He paused again for effect, then continued. “A certain Russian General suggested I institute Roman decimation, taking every tenth person out and have them shot.” He thought he heard some shocked intakes of breath. Good. They needed to know how serious this was.
Then he chuckled. “Some crazy Russian Colonel named Popov barged into my office, demanded ‘satisfaction’ if I dared consider that. Apparently someone is forming a fan club.”
He thought he heard the beginnings of a titter, then a snarl from another woman that immediately shut down the same. Policing their own already. This may just work better than he hoped.
“So, after some due deliberation, I have come to a solution. Or I should say, the solution as it is not open for debate. Unless someone really wants a court martial.”
Silence. One could hear a pin drop.
“Captain Daniel O’Brien. Time to unveil your creation.”
The tall and slender black haired Irishman stepped on to the stage. The previous Key West attack team member went to a furled banner that was hung horizontally behind the General. A quick pull of a restraining tie and a colorful very oversized banner unfurled to a few gasps that the General ignored.
On it was a graphic depiction of a screaming she-beast. A good looking, erotic creation with definite feminine attributes and long flowing shiny silver white hair. In her right hand was a Sisters of Steel Squid Killer blade. In her left was an ArmaLite AR -18 Rifle. Her face was pulled back in a snarl, displaying long canines and flashing eyes. She was both beautiful and horrifying at the same time.
“Please explain your creation, Captain.”
“Well, Sir, it’s an Irish Banshee. Based on a drawing my sainted grandmother did, back when she was affiliated with the Irish Republican Army. A ghostly she-creature from Irish legends.”
“You drew this, and had this banner made, because?”
He pulled a paper from his pocket, read from it with the requisite emotion. “Banshees. A bunch of fucking screaming banshees. They were slicing, killing everyone. Bullets were no good. They were fucking banshees!”
“Who said that, my good Captain?”
“A captured Kraken on the receiving end of these Sisters of Steel.”
General Reed paused and stared at the assembled women. Then he continued.
“Congratulations, ladies. By your actions you just all volunteered for the One Hundred and First Special Attack Unit. One Hundred and First because one hundred and one Sisters of Steel crossed into enemy lines, and one hundred and one returned. Though two of your number may be too injured to come back to active duty. No deaths, though, and that is a record, considering our intelligence reflects you all killed over four hundred Krakens and Ferals, ninety percent of the deaths by cold steel. And a few dozen more wounded. An almost unheard of kill to casualty ratio.”
The General turned and looked at the large banner. Then turned back.
“Your actions created a legend, a symbol. Now, you are going have to live up to it, make it real. So, an all-female unit. All except our brand new Captain O’Brien here. Key West wasn’t enough action for him. Besides, he came up with the Unit Symbol. The Banshee.”
General Reed looked at Aleks and Abigail. “I am now going to turn this over to your new Commander and Executive Officer. They get to complete the necessary details to fine tune this Unit. By the way, eventually you will be Battalion Size, some four hundred Banshees. You ‘originals’ have the added task of getting the newbies up to snuff.”
He fixed the assembled warriors with his best steely gaze. “As the saying goes, you make your bed, you have to sleep in it. By the way, quitting or failure is not an option. Carry on, ladies.”
Senior Sergeant Roskova called the women to attention, as Aleks saluted the General. Then he was gone.
Aleks looked at Abigail. “Damnit, I’m a spy, not a commander,” she complained in low tones. Aleks had tried to refuse the assignment when given her orders and new promotion from Mother Russia. But, of course, ‘needs of the service’, so no go, kids or no kids.
Abigail looked at Aleks. “Big sister,” she replied in hushed tones. “We will make this work. We owe Fuzz, we owe them. This is partly our doing by letting it continue after we knew about it. Please allow me to start the ball rolling.”
“Have at it, little sister. We are all Sisters of Steel here.”
Abigail faced the women at Parade Rest. “Unit, Atten Hut.” They all snapped to as if they had been together for months rather than hours, days.
“At Ease.” Abigail looked at the now very nervous just under one hundred women warriors.
“All right. Everyone, turn and greet your Sister to each side of you, as you would your flesh and blood. For, from this day forth, we are of one flesh, one blood.”
Everyone froze for just a few moments, as the words sank in. Then, hugs, kissed cheeks, laughter and a few tears as the new Banshee family had its first reunion.
Aleks looked at Abigail. “Anyone ever tell you that you are very good at this leadership thing?”
Abigail smiled a bit sheepishly then grabbed and hugged Aleks. “You’re my big sister. I will never let you down.”
“Nor I you, little sister. At least we are allowed to be with each other, to work this out together. We make a good pair.”
A beautiful Irish tenor voice sang out, supported by a squeeze box that had miraculously appeared. Captain Danny O’Brien began to sing an IRA song that would soon become a staple of the Banshees.
“And it's down in the Bogside, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.
I was stopped by a soldier, said he, You are a swine,
He beat me with his baton and he kicked me in the groin,
I bowed and I scraped, sure me manners were polite
But all the time I'm thinking of me little Armalite.
And it's down
in Crossmaglen, sure that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.
Sure a brave RUC man came up into our street
Six hundred British soldiers were gathered round his feet
Come out, ye cowardly Fenians, said he, come out and fight.
But he cried, I'm only joking, when he heard the Armalite.
Sure it's down in Kilwilkie, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.
Sure, the army came to visit me, 'twas in the early hours,
With Saladins and Saracens and Ferret armoured cars
They thought they had me cornered, but I gave them all a fright
With the armour piercing bullets of my little Armalite.
And it's down in the Falls Road, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.
When Tuzo came to Belfast, he said, The battle's won,
Said General Ford, We're winning sir, we have them on the run.
But corporals and privates on patrol at night.
Said, Send for reinforcements, it's the bloody Armalite.
And it's up in Ballymurphy, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.
It took a little while, but soon just over a hundred female voices were singing at least the chorus, as Danny O’Brien walked them thru the song My Little Armalite, singing with a wide smile on his face. Even Senior Sergeant Roskova joined in, though her voice was not very melodic. But she definitely had the enthusiasm down. Applause and cheers rang out as Captain O’Brien took a short bow.
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