In a spontaneous act, Abigail handed the rope to Young Fuzz. “Pull, Fuzz.”
The large pup pulled the rope with a wagging tail, it being a new, fun game. The shroud fell away from the object. Abigail gasped.
Sergeant Fuzz. Larger than life, a perfect carving done by masters. Fuzz alert, tail up, gazing ahead as if looking for a possible threat his nose had detected. Fuzz, the immortal symbol of loyalty and protection. Despite her best attempts, Abigail could not stop the tears.
Young Fuzz suddenly sat in front of his Sires carved statute, mouth slightly open in a doggy grin as if to say “Hey Dad.”
From the audience, in a front row seat, Sally Reid managed to take a quick series of digital photos she would use in a feature. The best would become The Memorial Photo for Fallen Comrades, never to be forgotten.
Silence. Then gasps. Then, everything broke.
Applause, cheers, yells, and everyone leapt to their feet. Thor Heyerdahl had just struck the right chord.
Abigail walked over to the War Leader, somehow croaked out, “Thank you.” Thor hugged her in his huge arms, kissed her on her forehead.
“We need to thank you. And Fuzz. You have lead the way, showed us what we must do if we really want to be human, defeat the Squids. Thank you for helping get us back on the correct path.”
It took a good ten minutes for everything to calm down. Madam President came out on stage, and hugged the huge Viking. Hand in hand with Thor, with Abigail and Young Fuzz standing by, she spoke. “Today, we continue on. We honor our dead, our wounded as we continue our fight for freedom. We fight. And with Thor and all you other fellow humans doing it together, we will win!”
Somebody began to sing the Star Spangled Banner. Never was a finer rendition ever heard.
Ten minutes later, people began to slowly make their way out of the memorial. Abigail, having composed herself, met up with Stalin, Sally, Janette, and her children. Young Fuzz sidled up to the children and began licking them. Soon both of the youngsters were laughing and giggling, “Thanks for chaperoning Janette and her children, Stalin, Sally. I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose them in the crowd.”
“The pleasure was ours, Major,” Sally responded. “I got a great photo of Young Fuzz and the statue of his dad. I’ll get you a copy after I use it for a feature article I’m doing.” She glanced at her watch.
“Hey, Man of Steel, I need to speed down to my office, finish the article so I can get it in the early addition of the paper.”
“I will come along,” said Stalin.
“You sure? I may be their most of the night.”
Stalin shrugged. “I’ve spent many a late night in my life. Besides, I would like to see you work. I’m used to military work, not civilian. It will be interesting to compare what you do to what I do. “
Sally smiled. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t give you the chance of a warm bed instead.”
The reporter bent over and offered her hand to Young Fuzz. Without hesitation he presented his paw for a ‘shake”.
“Please to meet you, Young Fuzz. You just helped to give me a hell of a story.”
She turned to Janette and her children. “Here is my card. Please call me later and tell me what you think of my story. And call me if there is ever anything I can do to help you and the kids.”
Janette blinked back tears. “You have all been so nice to me, a stranger. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing,” interjected Stalin. “I think the American expression is ‘pass it on’. If you do that, words of thanks are unnecessary.” The normally gruff man looked at the children.
“Mind your mother, little ones.”
“We will, Mister Stalin,” Tina answered. Then she grabbed and hugged his solid leg. Stalin lifted her with ease, kissed her forehead. He set her down, shook Timothy’s hand.
“I expect to see you again, young man, in about twelve years.”
“Yes Sir.”
Stalin looked at Abigail. “Call me, please, if I can be of assistance with these little ones.”
“I will, Senior Instructor. I will.”
With that, Stalin saluted Abigail, then left with Sally.
“He is such a nice man, Abigail,” said Janette.
“That is one of the great understatements of the year, Janette. He’s a rock for all who know him. Now. Let’s get you home to my place, get the children in bed. Then we will talk about your possible future.”
Hours later, the children and Janette in Abigail’s spare room, sound asleep, Abigail went to her own bed and passed out immediately. As soon as Young Fuzz saw his mistress was asleep, he snuck into the children’s room. They were asleep in a separate bed from their mother, so it was a simple matter for the large pup to crawl up next to them. With a sigh, the War Dog laid his head on Tina’s thigh. Half asleep, Tina scratched his ears. Then the three young of two species, joined at the hip for centuries, drifted off into a restful sleep.
CHAPTER 25
KEY WEST, FLORIDA
Adam Lloyd, Chief Hamilton, Kat and Mary had watched the televised memorial broadcast by the Unoccupied States. Adam took turns with the Chief in holding and caring for the two sets of twins as the four adults watched the activities in Malmstrom, Montana.
The Director shook his head as he watched the presentation of Sergeant Fuzz’s carved statue by Thor Heyerdahl.
“Propaganda seems to come natural to those people. And where have Heyerdahl and his Norsemen been hiding? It’s hard to believe no one had a hint of them, including the Squids, Krakens and robocops.”
Chief Hamilton had shrugged. “They’re just more Ferals to the Squids. And the Krakens have been more involved with the southern areas. You know, we could see about jamming these broadcast.”
Adam frowned. “I don’t know if I could get enough Tschaaa equipment and assistance to do that. I know I’d have to do some real scavenging at this late date to be able to do in on our own.”
Kat, the person who had been the face of the Occupied States on video up until some months ago, gave a very unladylike snort. “Wouldn’t do any good. Ever since they broadcast that pit raid, the Squids and their supporters have been shown to have total feet of clay. People would go looking for the info. They know it’s out there.”
Adam looked at one of his two wives, mother of two of his children. “You think we’re part of the feet of clay people?”
Kat sighed. “I think we’re to the point, if we aren’t part of the solution, we are part of the problem.”
Adam sat quiet for a few moments. Then he spoke. “Unfortunately, more people are coming to that conclusion. Between you and me, after years of submission by most people outside of the Unoccupied States, the mood has changed in a drastic way. I have two reports of robocops being attacked and destroyed overseas. Here in North America, two Falcons have been attacked with concealed ground to air missiles, and one Delta Fighter was shot down on the west coast. The Squid pilot in the Delta was lost. His Lordship is none too pleased.”
“Think it’s time to bug out, Boss?” the Chief asked.
“It is getting really close to that time. His Lordship said there is some big action he is planning to take, which he is holding close to his vest. I’m sitting and waiting to see it take form. If the results are too bad, five seconds later we start moving.”
Luke stirred in his arms, and Adam smiled. Funny how holding your children seemed to make the world right. The Chief had Laura. Kat was holding a sleeping Mark, and Mary had Lana. He knew he would do anything in his power to protect his family and friends. The decisions he had made so far had been for the survival of as many humans as possible, with the knowledge others were being sacrificed. Tough decisions for which he would accept full responsibility, no one else should be blamed.
“Well, let’s finish watching this broadcast, then hit the rack. Tomorrow is going to be another long day with more questions from His Lordship.”
Raven-haired Mary looked at him. “We love and support you,
Adam. No matter what happens.”
“That is what keeps me going—my loves, and Chief. That’s what keeps me going every single day.”
CHAPTER 26
GREAT FALLS, MONTANA
Stalin sat at Sally’s kitchen table, reading the Early Edition of the Great Falls Times. The front page had Sally’s photo of Young Fuzz on it, looking at the carved statue of his sire, Sergeant Fuzz. He had stayed up all night with her at the newspaper offices, as she finished the accompanying article and readied it for print. The first copy off the printing press was the one Stalin was holding in his hand.
Stalin had then picked the reporter up in his arms and carried her to their vehicle, Sally protesting all the way.
“You will be no good to anyone without some sleep,” he had told her. “You are not trained Spetsnaz, used to going days without adequate rest.”
“Damnit, Stalin. Must you be such an overbearing asshole?” she snapped at him.
“It has kept me alive and in relatively one piece all these years. Why change now?”
Sally pouted all the way home, then went straight to her bedroom and slammed the door. Stalin heard the shower running for a few minutes, then her hair dryer. He snuck up to the bedroom and listened. When he heard no cursing or movement, but still heard the hair dryer, he slipped into her room. She had fallen asleep while drying her hair, the dryer laying on the floor. He hoped it had one of those overheat automatic shut off switches for when he was not around. Stalin picked it up and turned it off. Sally, in just a towel, was laying on her bed, gently snoring. Stalin covered Sally with a spare blanket, managed to slip a pillow under her head without awakening her. The reporter shifted in her sleep, and a small smile formed on her lips as she mumbled something. Then, she fell back into REM sleep.
Stalin stood and watched her sleep. He felt very tired.
“Getting old, fool,” he whispered to himself. There was a time he would have been wide awake, even with the vodka he had ingested at the Russian mini-wake after the memorial service. Or, maybe it was just he felt so relaxed around this woman, that he let himself be sleepy. He looked at the newspaper article once again. “Sergeant Fuzz represents everything good about humanity,” Sally had written. “Yet, because he had four legs, was a different species, we do not consider him as having ‘human qualities’. I submit that is wrong. As the saying goes, no man or woman has a greater love than to give his or her life for another. That is what Fuzz did.”
He read the last lines. “So I welcome you as an Honorary Human, Sergeant Fuzz. Long may you be remembered as a symbol of all who have fallen fighting the evil Squids and Krakens. Rest in Peace, Big Fella.”
He stared at the sleeping Sally for quite some time. He began to shuck his clothes, then laid down next to the reporter. Stalin carefully put his arms around her and fell asleep.
Stalin was woken by a hand gently caressing his lower anatomy. He turned to face Sally.
“Good morning, Man of Steel.”
“Sally Reid, has anyone told you that you have the soul of a Russian poet?”
Sally paused, frowned a bit. “Where’d that come from? Not from what I have in my hand…”
“I am serious. Your article about the Memorial said it all. You paid all the fallen a huge honor. I love you, Sally Reid. I want to be with you. There, I got it out.” The last bit had come out in a rush, not in Stalin’s characteristic measured speech.
“Stalin, I…” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“You do not have to love me, my dear reporter. I have stored up enough over all these years for both of us.”
She began to cry. “Damn you. I had a husband and children that I have finally gotten over losing. And now you want me to have all those feelings again? That is unfair.” She began to sob, but grabbed Stalin in a bear hug, squeezed him with unnoticed strength. Stalin gently stroked her hair and held her, letting her cry. She began to sniffle, then stopped.
“What am I going to do with you, you big hunk of granite? Answer me that.”
“You could love me back.”
Sally raised her head, looked him in the eyes. “I do. That is the problem. I fell in love with this crazy Russian who could go off at a moment’s notice and I’d be a widow once again.”
“My beloved woman, you have me killed off already? Do I not get a say in the matter?”
“You know what I mean, my Man of Steel. Even Superman could be killed by kryptonite.”
Stalin propped himself up on one arm, frowned at her. “I am Stalin. Steel in Russian. I am not some comic book character you Americans dreamed up. You think I would dare to allow anyone to hurt you? Especially by killing me?”
Sally grabbed him and kissed him hard. “God, you are so conceited. Alright, I admit you’re too ornery to go quietly into the good night without taking a full division with you. So, here, shake on it.”
“Shake on what, dearest Sally?”
“You just agreed to not die until I say you can.”
“I think God has something to say about that.”
“And if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t interfere. Now, kiss me. Make love to me. Then we can plan on how to make an honest woman out of me. Thought I’d let you go on without a wedding? It can be simple, but we will be hitched.”
Stalin took her in his arms and kissed her. One thing led to another and Mother Nature had her assurances that two humans were functioning just fine.
CHAPTER 27
NEW WHITE HOUSE
BISMARCK, NORTH DAKOTA
Madam President sat at her desk, a small smile on her lips. Events seemed to be picking up after the initial reports of Bloody Kansas. What had started out as a complete surprise invasion by fellow humans had turned into a complete rout for the enemy, plus the addition of a new previous unknown ally. Thor Heyerdahl’s short speech was perfect as a propaganda tool. She believed he knew that up front, his speech not being as spontaneous as he wanted people to believe. The carving of Sergeant Fuzz was a masterpiece, a symbol for current and future generations even if it elicited some feelings of sorrow. Madam President wondered if Thor had some type of political aspirations, maybe on the world stage. Traditional U.S. law stated you had to be a natural born citizen to aspire to the highest offices. Things could change, however.
Abigail and Ichiro’s planned wedding was another source of pleasure, not to mention the support the young woman warrior had garnered from Deseret out of the clear blue sky. She went and kicked some Prophet ass and the Mormons still offered extensive military and material support to the U.S.A. In every generation there emerged leaders and people who became symbols for what was right. Abigail Young, now Abigail Jorgensen, and soon to be Yamamoto, was such a person. Plus, she knew Abigail and Ichiro were made for each other. If there was anyone who could deal with the potential problems of alien and human unnatural modifications made to Abigail, it was Ichiro.
Her intercom buzzed. It was George Williams.
“Go ahead, George.”
“Ma’am, Colonel Bardun is here.”
“Good. Send her in.” Now back to more unpleasant matters.
Bettie Bardun and Madam President had a unique relationship based on how they had met. She and Aleks Smirnov had been the first people the Colonel had told about her butchering of the obscene female scientist aboard the Space Platform. It had taken Bettie Bardun some time to get over the horror of that situation (breeding brainless babies to feed to the Tschaaa). She had bounced back and then some. Her expertise in exobiology and microbiology had led to what the President thought was a godsend. Maybe a rather nasty godsend, but one nonetheless.
For Colonel Bardun’s part, she had undying loyalty to the President. Bettie could just as easily been hung out to dry as a traitor with her husband, Colonel Hunter, used as examples of what happened to people who cooperated with the Squids. A show trial and then the hangman’s noose could have been their fate. But Madam President had made sure that was not the case. So Bettie made sure the leader of the U
noccupied States received what she wanted.
Colonel Bardun walked into the President’s office and saluted, the President returning the salute. Then Madam President crossed the distance to the exobiologist and hugged her.
“So glad to see you so well, Bettie. I have heard your husband is doing great things also. Come, sit down and relax. Then you can tell me all the good gossip you know.” The former Air Force Officer smiled. Madam President knew just what to do in order to relax people. Yet, Bettie knew it came from the heart, was not fake political shenanigans. This was another reason why she cared for her so, would die for the President if asked.
“Well, Ma’am, you probably know as much gossip as I do. I’ve been too busy with The Project to socialize much. But I do know a certain Avenging Angel and a modern Samurai are soon to be married.”
Madam President grinned. “Yes, isn’t it just great? You and Major Rice deserve some credit for that because of all the medical aid you provided to help with her…condition.”
Bettie tried to brush the compliment away. “Ma’am. I was just helping Major Rice. She and Doctor Anders, the vet, are the ones who brought her back from the dead.”
“Come now. Your work on the modifications that were secretly done to her will aid in Abigail achieving a normal life in the future. That and, of course, Ichiro. So, if I can be nosey, how are you and the good Colonel Hunter doing these days? Still treating you right?”
Bettie blushed a bit. “Yes, he is. You’ll hear it from me first. Sometime in the near future I will be asking for a leave of absence in order to start a family. I’m not getting any younger. Which is why I needed to finish this special project for you now.”
Madam President sighed. “Yes. My project. Or should I say, Humanity’s Survival Project. So, I understand you have something to show me.”
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