“Captain. Your Commander calls you,” Aleks’ voice rang out.
The new Captain quickly marched over in front of Aleks and saluted.
“Ma’am, Captain Daniel O’Brien, Administrative and Supply Office, reporting as ordered to Colonel Smirnov.”
Aleks tried not to smile, only partially succeeded. “Morale and Welfare Officer too, I see.”
“If you wish, Ma’am. I am at your command.”
“You have other similar rousing songs?”
“Yes, Ma’am. My sainted grandmother taught me on her knee. She was quite the Amazon warrior during her time.”
“But no revolution now, Captain. Some people may not understand.”
“Just against the devil fish, the Squids. Against them every Irishman worth his salt would resist.”
Aleks broke into a grin. “I think, Captain, you will fit in quite nicely, as the only male soldier in the unit.”
“That I aim to do, Ma’am. Always wanted to fight alongside some Banshee women. God just granted my wish.”
A week after the formation of the Banshees, Abigail was in route to the Bloody Kansas Memorial Service. Even after the ‘official’ formation of the 101st Special Assault Unit, it would be weeks if not months before it was entirely operational. All the selected assigned personnel had to be transferred from their previous unit, uniforms and equipment had to be obtained, barracks and office space had to be found. Right now, Captain O’Brien was handling all the details under direct orders from General Reed. When the Supreme Allied Commander told everyone that a certain Captain had his full support, the waters parted, the bureaucratic sea barriers disappeared.
Thus Abigail had some time to herself, her presence not being needed at the training area. Unofficially, she had been told by General Reed to take care of personal business until further notice, based on directions from Madam President. The fact her actions, her literal presence, had opened up official co-operation between the Armed Forces of Deseret and the Combined Allied Armed Forces was deemed enough work by the new Major for the present as well as near future.
So, she was spending time getting Young Fuzz acclimated to his new home as well as beginning to plan for her wedding. Every time Abigail thought of her wedding, she sighed. She and Ichiro had wanted a small affair. No such luck. Once again, her image as the Avenging Angel, Sgt. Fuzz’s human, as well as Ichiro’s reputation as the man who had nuked the Squids, meant that they were the closest thing to a First Couple that existed. Everyone wanted to see them married with as much pomp and circumstance as possible. People needed the equivalent of a National Party to feel good, to take their mind off of what had just happened in Bloody Kansas. They needed a symbol of hope, of normalcy. So, for better or worse, Ichiro and Abigail had a special role to play in the greater scheme of things.
But driving to the memorial service was bringing back the memories, emotions and angst over losing Fuzz. In her SUV back seat Young Fuzz reclined as she drove. Every time she looked at the K-9 it was bitter sweet. Memories of his sire came flooding back to remind her that he was gone. But then she saw Fuzz in the young dog when she looked at him, so she smiled. She would also swear that Sergeant Fuzz was watching over her still, through his son. The circle of life and love remained unbroken.
Abigail pulled into a reserved Distinguished Visitor slot, though she never, ever felt distinguished. Young Fuzz perked up, sat and looked expectantly at the rear door, knowing he would be let out momentarily. He was a dream to train, leading Abigail to again claim that the Senior Fuzz was whispering ‘doggese’ in his ears, telling him exactly what was expected of him. She opened the back door and he jumped down, then sat patiently for her to put his leash on. Though he was already off leash capable, Abigail knew he was still basically a pup. And a pup his size made people nervous, as well as capable of doing damage if he became rambunctious.
She smiled at him, scratched his ears in just the right way to illicit a small groan of contentment and pleasure.
“More like your father every day, big fella. It looks like you’re going to be even a bit larger than Fuzz Senior, and he was a big dog.”
Something made you look up, and she saw a woman and two children walking hesitantly toward the huge auditorium set up for the memorial service. Again, outside tents had been set up with closed circuit video for the expected overflow. The woman and the children paused, seemed unsure as to where they were to go. Then it dawned on her who they were. And memories of Fuzz and That Day came flooding back. They were the ones she and Fuzz had saved. And she had never even gotten their names.
The light brown haired woman of medium build looked up, saw her. She gave a hesitant wave. Abigail made a beeline toward her, Young Fuzz heeling perfectly. As Abigail approached the woman, the young boy spoke up.
“Look, Mom. A dog like Sergeant Fuzz.”
Abigail smiled. “Ma’am, your son is quite observant. This is Fuzz’s son. You and your children are the ones Fuzz led out that day. I didn’t even get your names.”
“I thought that was you, Captain, no, Major now. You look a bit different without all that camouflage on. Your dress uniform is beautiful on you.”
The woman stuck her hand out. “Janette Jamison. My son Timothy, and my daughter Tina. Ma’am, we just had to come and pay our respects to Sergeant Fuzz and you. If not for you two…” A tear suddenly ran down her face. She brushed it a way with a sheepish smile.
“I told myself crying time is over, but just look at me. Still bawling like a baby…”
Abigail took Janette’s with her offered hand, then hugged her with her left arm. Then her tears came. The two women hugged as they re-shared the moment when death was near. When for Janette and her children, the Grim Reaper was chased off with the help of a four-legged Guardian Angel, who had gone with death instead of them.
“Mommy, please don’t cry,” five year old toe headed Tina said plaintively.
Abigail let go of Janette, then knelt down, whipping her eyes with a handkerchief a certain Madam President had given her.
“Your Mommy and I are just happy to see each other, Tina. And I’m glad to see you, too. Want to say hello to Young Fuzz, son of Sergeant Fuzz?” The little girl nodded, and reached out to pet him. The huge pup stole a doggy kiss, a nice slurp on the face. Tina giggled.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you and your Mom. Young Fuzz is a ladies’ man, just like his sire was.”
Timothy approached, began to scratch the K-9’s ears. “He looks just like Sergeant Fuzz, only younger.”
“Yes, Tim. All but this white star on his forehead. It’s where the Great Spirit touched him as he was being born.”
Abigail stood up, took Janette’s hand in hers. “Where are you staying?”
The woman looked a little embarrassed. “Ma’am, we hitched a ride up here, and thought we would find a motel room. Beyond that, I guess I didn’t do a very good job of planning ahead.”
“No need to plan. And call me Abigail. Torbin Bender told me a long time ago that anyone you faced the Grim Reaper with gets to be on a first name basis with you. You and your children will stay with me in my quarters for as long as you want. I live alone, and have my own house.”
“Please, Ma’am…Abigail. I can’t impose on you like that. I have some money…”
“No imposing. It’s what Sergeant Fuzz would want. He would want to make sure you’re okay in a strange place. Just like he did that day.”
Abigail grinned. “Besides, Young Fuzz wants your children to tell him about his father. Don’t you, big fella?”
Fuzz gave a signature open mouthed doggy smile, then stole another kiss from Tina.
“See? It’s settled. Now, I’m going to get you the best seats in the house for the memorial service.” Just then she saw a couple of familiar figures approaching, and a quick plan formed in her mind.
“Senior Training Instructor Stalin. Miss Reid,” she called out. “Could I borrow you for a while?”
Stalin called back. “For My La
dy of Cold Steel, anything. How are you this fine day of remembrance, of honoring our Comrades?”
Abigail grinned. Always full of life, even with a gruff exterior during training. And Sally Reid, local Reporter was now a bit of a fixture around him. To say that they seemed on the surface a bit of an odd couple was an understatement. But they seemed happy, so who cared?
As they reached Abigail and her three new friends, Abigail introduced Janette and her two children.
“Stalin, Miss Reid, may I present Janette Jamison and her children, her son Timothy and daughter Tina. They are the ones Sergeant Fuzz led out to safety in Wyoming.”
“Please, Abigail, not so formal. I’m just a country girl with two children. We came to pay our respects.”
Stalin put his hand out to shake for Timothy. “Please to meet you, young man.”
Timothy did not hesitate to take and shake it.
“Nice, firm handshake,” Stalin remarked. “You can tell a lot from a handshake.”
“My Dad taught me. Before the Krakens killed him.” Timothy said it matter of factly, as if it were something that happened to him every day. He looked Stalin in the eye. “You’re a Russian Soldier, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Timothy. Spetsnaz. Special Forces. I train them now that I am older.”
“I want to be a soldier. Mr. Stalin. So that I can kill Krakens, like they killed my Dad.”
“Now, Timothy,” His mother began. But Stalin gently waved her off.
“Son, if that is what you want, then when you reach your age of maturity, then that is what you can do. I will probably still be here, training new and old soldiers, so I may train you.”
“You would?”
“If the good Major hasn’t chased me off by then.”
Abigail smiled. “Stalin, you are too ornery to be chased off, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
“And I see you have a young sister. You watch out for her, da?”
“Yes, Sir. That’s what my Dad told me. Big brothers watch out for little sisters.”
Stalin slowly nodded his head. “Your father was a smart and honorable man.” He knelt down in front of Tina, who was acting a bit shy, moving toward her mother.
Stalin gently took her hand in his, kissed it. “I see we have a little princess in our midst.”
At that, Tina giggled, smiling. Abigail looked at Stalin, a warm feeling in her heart. In his native Russian she spoke.
“You have a side to you that you try to hide. You make children laugh, feel special.”
“Please don’t let that information be common knowledge, Major. It would ruin my reputation as Stalin, steel,” he answered in Russian as he gently picked up Tina, and set her on his shoulder.
“A princess needs to be able to see the world from a high vantage point,” Stalin said now in English. “So that she may survey all that is happening around her. My shoulder should do okay, temporarily, yes?”
Abigail saw Sally was looking at Stalin with moist eyes. In Abigail’s experience, this reaction was often due to painful memories.
“Miss Reid, I imagine you would like to talk to the Jamisons about what happened that day, flesh out the story of Fuzz.”
This brought Sally out of her woolgathering. “Why yes. And a picture, if possible, with this digital camera Stalin magically procured.”
Janette Jamison blushed a bit. “I’m not very, photogenic I guess is the word. But I wouldn’t mind telling you about what Abigail and Fuzz did for us.”
“Can you and Stalin chaperone them also? They want me to accept the flag for Fuzz as part of the memorial service. I had to fight with the powers that be to keep it to that simple function. They wanted to concentrate on Sergeant Fuzz the symbol, rather than this being a memorial service for all.”
Sally smiled. “Of course. I’ll get a feature story out of this, which will make my paper happy. I understand the government’s desire to spin the positive as much as possible. There is a strong civilian undercurrent questioning the level of casualties in Kansas, whether if we had ignored the Squids and Key West, they would have ignored us.”
At that comment, Stalin had snorted. “And that is why I stayed a lowly, common soldier. Politics complicate everything.”
“You are neither common nor lowly, Man of Steel,” Sally responded. “And you are doing a bang up job as a two-legged horse for Tina there.”
Stalin chuckled, then looked at Tina. “Am I a good horse, princess?”
The young girl giggled. “Yes. I can see everything from here.”
“So, Mother Janette and children. I see they have set up a food and drink tent. I was always hungry as a child, so I suggest we go there. Then I and Sally will insure you have front row seats for the Memorial.
Janette smiled. “You are so nice to us strangers. I don’t know how to repay you.”
Stalin looked at her. “The only strangers are the damnable Squids. All we humans are family.”
The Memorial Service went rather smoothly and quickly. Representatives of all the Armed Forces and Countries involved accepted flags for the fallen. In the back, Spetsnaz members suspended berets on their fists to represent their fallen comrades. Governors of Wyoming and Kansas as well as the Militia Commanders accepted flags honoring their dead, both civilian and military. Every single person killed in the attack would have an individual U.S. Flag presented to surviving family members, friends, or buried with them. Madam President had stated everyone was a soldier in this war, deserved the honors for the fallen.
Madam President had purposefully stayed in the background of this national, televised memorial service. However, at the end she had to step forward to introduce a special guest, who had asked to give his respects at the memorial. So, at the very end, she came up to the microphone in the center of the stage.
“We have a new friend and ally to all who wishes to pay his respects to those who have fallen in this war for freedom for all humanity. So, without further delay, I would like to introduce Thor Heyerdahl, War Leader for the Great Lakes American Vikings.”
When Thor strode out in traditional Norseman garb, long cape and long beard, near seven feet tall. More than one person gasped, “My God. He’s as big as a robocop.”
Thor Heyerdahl strode to the center of the stage, shook Madam President’s hand, then turned toward the assembled citizens of the Unoccupied States of America. Without a microphone, his voice boomed and resonated throughout the auditorium. “As you will tell by my thick accent and my clothes, I am not from around here.” This brought some laughter from the audience. Thor did have a much thicker accent that the home grown Norskies, but he really was not that out of place. Except, that is, for his giant size. Rolf Knudsen looked almost average sized next to him.
“As the fine lady, and my new friend, Madam President said, I wish to pay our respect to the fallen. And, to offer an apology.” A slight murmur was heard as some people expressed questions as to what he was talking about.
The huge man continued. “I offer an apology for me and mine. For we Great Lakes Vikings, Norsemen, stood by, watching, as you fought and died.”
The auditorium became silent.
“I came over from Norway at the end of the first year of this Invasion with family on two fishing boats we waylaid. We headed toward Minnesota as we had some extended family there. And we had heard the Squids, the Krakens were leaving well enough alone up here, due to the cold weather.”
He paused for a moment. “We banded together with other people of Northern blood and created our own society. We removed ourselves from other humans, began returning to the Old Ways. We believed Ragnarok, the Final Battle, had been fought. We believed that if we returned to the Old Ways, applied ourselves to what we thought was Viking heritage, we could begin anew. After all, Christian, Jew, Muslims and their God had been defeated. So now, maybe the Great World Tree would grow again, support us, and allow us to prosper.”
“We were fools. Cowards.” His voice rang out. After that, a dropped pin could
be heard.
“For we saw the images of the Beast Raid, the Pit Raid. Where a small band of Sons and Daughters of the North fought the Great Evil, freed and nurtured young children who had been subjected to unspeakable horrors. We saw Rolf Knudsen, Brynhildr Jorgenson and Johann Knudsen take the child survivors under their protection. And the rest of us were shamed by our inaction.”
Thor paused, swallowed. Everyone assembled could tell this was no political speech. This came from the heart of a man who hurt.
“Then more innocents were killed in Bloody Kansas while we dithered, beat out chests, and acted mean and tough. It is so easy to play the part of a true Norseman. So easy to wear the trappings of what we say were tough, honorable Vikings. It is not so easy to actually be what we claimed we were.”
“So, today. I stand before you as the speaker and representative of my band, tribe, my Family. I pledge our undying support in this War to Free Humanity. And ask only the chance to make amends for our past inaction.”
Thor turned and motioned to someone off stage.
“We have prepared a symbol of our pledge. Rolf Knudsen told us about a certain War Dog whom he claimed was the Fenris Wolf in the flesh. Only this Fenris was beholden to a maiden with our people’s blood. Unlike my family, he sacrificed for his loyalty, his love. We would like to add our homage to the honor of his memory, if we are allowed. Joseph, the offering, please.”
Two large Norsemen began to push a large shrouded object setting on a wheeled platform onto the center of the stage.”
“Major Abigail Jorgenson. May I borrow you, please.”
Abigail walked slowly up and onto the stage, Young Fuzz in tow. She had no idea what Thor had in mind. Nor apparently, other than possibly the President, did anyone else.
Thor handed a length of rope to her. “Please accept this as an attempt to honor Sergeant Fuzz, his memory, his loyalty, and his love, from our woodworkers. Also as a symbol for all who have fallen. I hope our efforts are sufficient.”
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