by Rod Porter
“Myriad,” he said.
“I’m here,” came the response from inside the bunker.
“Listen to me: I need you to start helping us out here,” Troy shouted over the explosions and gunfire. “We’ve got to speed this up, or we’re going to get pinned down permanently. Wherever the soldier aliens are coming from, there are bound to be sentinels here soon. You start loading the munitions in the jet cockpits. I’m going to send a couple of troops to help you. We got to speed things up now.”
No response.
“Myriad, do you read me?”
“I hear you, sir.”
“Good.”
Troy dispatched two fighters to go help Myriad condense the evac process, and then turned back to fighting the enemy. They were fortunate that they were simply battling the old soldier aliens, and not the advanced ones that they had seen in the island assault. The only logical reason for that was that the aliens did not consider this bunker to be of any importance. Troy knew if those crab things or those advanced soldiers showed up, he would have to abort. All he and his troopers could do was dig in and try to outlast the enemy. Then fall back and begin a whole new chapter in the Unconformed’s history.
VOCATIONAL DUTY
“He’s a good man.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” said Demoskeena. When he heard that one of the newest members of the aspiring ranks of the priesthood had been a cellmate with Troy Williams inside the alien prison camps, Demoskeena had to look into it. He had observed and monitored Mickey from a careful distance. Realizing a golden opportunity in the young man, Demoskeena wanted to make sure he did not lunge in like a wild animal and ruin the chance to establish a rapport.
Mickey appeared to be serious about his studies and a genuine believer in the teachings of the Catholic Church. Demoskeena felt that, with Troy away again on another mission-some nonsense about airplanes-he would have another opportunity to strengthen his position at home.
“He is a good man,” Demoskeena continued. “Which is why I fear we will lose him soon. He keeps making rash decisions. Going out in the field when he should be running things here. He’s going to get himself killed, and then where would we be?” Right where Demoskeena wanted them to be, but he decided to keep that last bit to himself. Noticing the conversation was focusing too little on concern and too much on the downfall of that accursed Troy Williams, Demoskeena made an adjustment. “How are your studies?”
“Good,” said Mickey. And they were. The teachings of Jesus Christ and the Apostles and Saints. The stories of the Old and New Testaments. They filled Mickey with a sense of hope. It all came back to what Father Jennings, the priest who convinced him to join, said: that religion has the power to unite people and make their lives better. That beautiful vision was what grabbed Mickey the most. He continued to pray daily for Tommy’s recovery. The big ox was still in sick bay in a coma. His condition remained stable.
Demoskeena listened politely to all Mickey had to say. The boy was so naive! Actually thinking he could make a difference. It was idealists like Mickey, fools who wasted time and energy on matters of principle and morality, who were the reason that realists like himself were able to be Prime Minister. So he nurtured this way of thinking in the young teenager, and hoped it would bear fruit in the form of leverage in his campaign to control the military and Troy Williams.
FIRST DATE
Dr. Lexington’s laughter made Jackson feel wonderful. Stephanie had finally caved after several attempts to ask her out on a date. The good doctor had overseen Jackson’s follow-up appointments at the hospital and was pleased that he had made a complete recovery and was in prime health. She had known that there was something different about Jackson the first time she laid eyes on him, a bloody mess sprawled out on her operating table. At the time, she had no way to tell if his uniqueness was a positive or not, but she had slowly realized it was all positive. Initially, she had been put off by his advances. She just wished that he would leave her alone.
However, as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to a couple of months, she began to look forward to his incessant attention. On the days when she tended to her other patients, she missed Jackson and his boyish advances. He made her smile, and even in a treacherous colony, where life was more than comfortable, that could be a rarity. Stephanie had never been particularly interested in the men in Hivestown. Jackson was so wonderfully different. He was kind, strong, and sensitive.
“I like your laugh,” he said to her. “It makes me happy.”
They were eating dinner at one of Stephanie’s favorite establishments in the colony. Jackson likened it to one of the back-alley taverns from his home colony, but Hivestown’s was much nicer. Everything, from the quality of the food and drink to the service, was head and shoulders above anything he was used to. It had been disheartening to see how simple Jade was compared to Hivestown. Jackson had been fighting the aliens with the belief that Jade was a city of innovation and a representation of the quintessential human standard for comfort, but every day he learned in ten different ways how much better and more advanced the treacherous colonies were. But it did not bother him much at the moment.
“I still have never heard you laugh,” Stephanie said.
“Sure you have.”
“No, not a whole hearted laugh. I’ve heard small versions of it.”
Jackson hesitated, looking over the candles that illuminated their dinner table. “It’s hard to make me laugh.”
The evening had been beautiful, as far as artificially-created weather could be beautiful. There were dozens of couples sitting at tables in the dining area with Jackson and Stephanie.
“So where are you from?” she asked. There were many questions she wanted to ask, but she did not want to pry too much, too fast. She liked Jackson very much.
“A back-alley colony up north. Lived as a nomad for a while too. Nothing special in my background,” the leader of the Unconformed lied. He wanted desperately to go somewhere quiet and tell her everything, but he could not run the risk. He hoped that in time he would be able to be honest with her. “How about you?”
“I’ve been here most of my life. But back when I was a kid, Hivestown was an above-ground settlement. It was not until a few years ago we had to go underground.”
“For your own protection.”
“That’s right.”
“The secretary I met gave me the basic rundown of the place. Was Hivestown attacked often?”
“Not so much.” The topic seemed to produce a sting inside Stephanie, digging up memories of the attacks. “Roaming nomads and the like would always attack us. Roaming patrols of the resistance were the most brutal. I curse the Unconformed every morning. They took so much from us. They took our right to see the sky. I miss the smell and the feel of the outside world. The Unconformed has taken more from Hivestown than any nomad or mercenary group.”
Jackson wanted to shout that it was the aliens who had forced Hivestown underground; that it was the “angels” who allowed word and doctrine to spread that the treacherous colonies were heathens and villainous traitors that did harm to their own people.
“Couldn’t the aliens have just defended you?”
“They tried, but the bottom line is that they value human life above all else. The pain they feel over one of us losing our lives is too great a burden for them to bear. So they moved us underground. In their eyes, it is the only way to keep us all safe. Even they recognize that, even if they offer us protection above ground, there are bound to be casualties. And that is something they will not accept.”
Jackson had to bite his lip to keep from flipping the table over at the mention of the aliens’ profound value for human life.
“What led you to become a doctor?”
“The aliens somehow preserved certain texts on healing. I was one of the first students to ever attend the medical academy of Hivestown. It was constructed a few years ago, not too long after we made the move underground. I just had a knack for it. Th
e instructors said I was the most proficient student they had ever had.”
“You did one hell of a job on my injuries, doc. I’d give you an A on that basis alone.”
They both sipped their wine and smiled at one another. Jackson had unknowingly brought up a subject that had Stephanie rather concerned: his injuries. How the hell did Jackson get shot three times, she had wondered? These were not the injuries of a casual seaman or nomad. Stephanie had seen injuries like them before. They were combat injuries. But she decided not to press. It had been such a wonderful evening that she decided to put his injuries on the back burner for the time being. At some point, though, she would have to confront him.
Without their knowledge, the colony’s Investigative Bureau was observing them and thinking the same thing. The secretary that had interviewed Jackson had assigned shadows from the Bureau to monitor him as he worked his way into the colony. Their job was to follow Jackson and document his every move, because Stephanie was not the only one in town wondering how he had sustained combat injuries.
AIRWAVES
“The fact of the matter is that the Unconformed are out there on the front lines. These brave men and women literally risk their lives every day to defend us from the alien invaders.”
“But, Mr. Prime Minister, with the monumental failure of the recent island offensive, surely you do not condone the present course of action that the Unconformed seem to have adopted?”
The news anchor genuinely thought he was throwing some real zingers at Demoskeena. The elder priest had maneuvered expertly around every one of them, and this one was no exception.
“And what course of action is that, Carl?” Demoskeena asked, knowing full well that the entire city was listening to the exclusive broadcast.
Carl was caught off guard. He had been hired as the major news anchor for the very first liberation media conglomerate of Jade specifically because he had not objected to the agenda of burying the Unconformed and its new leadership. Now the very man who had reportedly hired him to carry out this agenda was defending them? It made no sense, but he was going to do what he was told.
“Well,” the news anchor responded, “it would appear that the offensive was a mistake, and it seems that the prison break was a mistake as well. The entire prison break operation was carried out with the goal of recovering General Anderson, and now General Anderson, we are told, has been killed in action. Killed in action because the aliens have evolved to the point where they might be unstoppable. They wiped out six of our battalions with-reportedly-a only a handful of evolved soldiers. And let us not forget that these alien soldiers were only advanced because we exposed sensitive technology to them in the prison break.”
“Let me stop you for a moment, Carl.” Demoskeena stopped for the audience listening in on their radios to join him in a reflective pause, as if he had not rehearsed what he was about to say. “As far as the prison raid is concerned, yes, it is possible that the main objective was to reacquire General Anderson, but we have no way of knowing for sure whether that alone was the primary objective. And it is also true that General Anderson is no longer with us, presumed dead. But let’s not forget that the prison raid freed nearly three hundred human prisoners. People who were doomed to a life of suffering, followed by eventual death. Now they are productive members of our community. They are living in safety and security, helping the great city of Jade spread its wings. So do I look upon the prison break as a failure? As a mistake? Absolutely not.”
Troy was listening to the entire broadcast from resistance headquarters. He had been rattled upon returning to Jade when he was told that there would be a city-wide audio broadcast, an interview between the Prime Minister and a reporter. Troy and some of his officers listened in silence. The anxiety in Troy was subsiding. Demoskeena was doing a good job, coming to the Unconformed’s aid just like he had said he would. And it was a good thing, because if Demoskeena went back on his word, he would lose not only his security detail, but the chance to deal with Troy in the future.
“The island offensive,” Demoskeena continued, playing more to the audience now, “was unfortunate. It ended badly, but it reinforces my earlier point that these men and women make those ultimate sacrifices to keep us safe, and it is our duty to support them.”
The reporter was not sure what to do, other than push the agenda he had been coached to. “What of the change in leadership within the Unconformed? Many believe that Troy Williams is too inexperienced for the job. Militarily, administratively, and politically.”
“I disagree with that assessment. It is true that he is inexperienced, but I think he has a better grasp on things than he is given credit for. I know he has some big ideas for the Unconformed, and I think that it is too early to judge him. We have to remember, he has just taken the reins from General Anderson. I think we will need to judge him on his future actions and decisions as commander, rather than his immediate qualifications.”
Nothing Troy had heard had caused him any worries except for Demoskeena’s last statement. The Prime Minister was leaving the discussion wide open on whether or not Troy would prove a capable leader of the resistance.
“This has been an exclusive interview from Jade’s media network. Thank you all, and good night.”
The transmission ended.
Troy stared at the present members of the resistance. The public relations people spoke up.
“He covered his ass very well. He supported you, but did not declare any allegiance or pick any side. And with his comments at the end, he left open a window for your critics to rip you apart if you screw up.”
“I agree,” said Troy. “I’ve written some notes for our next broadcast. If you can go over them and meet with me tomorrow, we can put it out.”
Troy dismissed the meeting. He sat for a while after everyone left. He desperately wanted to talk to Kara to see what her advice would be. His staff had given him a long list of suggestions for a first officer. Troy knew he needed one badly, specifically for moments like this. Navigating around the edges of the political melting pot was going to be difficult. What he needed were allies on the civilian side of power. He already commanded fierce loyalty from his troops and the remaining brass. But with whom could he align on the political side of things? And with whom could he align without Demoskeena knowing or having any influence over that person? It was time for the Unconformed to rebuild.
BROADCAST
Troy sat in his office, flanked by members of his staff. The ham radio was prepped and ready. He reached for the receiver and took a deep breath, exhaling as much anxiety as he could. This was the first major step in his tenure as commander, and he would be judged for it. Trusting in his own words, and that he was doing the right thing, gave him the courage to speak into the receiver.
“Good evening,” he said to the entire wasteland and whatever colonies could hear him.
“We know that it has been a long time since our last transmission, but I assure you that it is not because we have been shaken or deterred in our commitment to defeat the enemy. It is true what many of you have heard, that the offensive on the island did not go as planned. We were unable to recover any weapons or technology that could aid us in our campaign. We suffered heavy casualties, including the death of General Anderson and other high-ranking officers. We have no progress to speak of, save first contact with the alien invaders, and they assured us that this fight is not over. The enemy has evolved, and as they have evolved, so must we.
“For too long, the Unconformed has waged the wrong type of war against the invaders. It has been a war of interest, with that interest being what is best for the city of Jade and its expansion. I am here to tell you that, as of right now, the Unconformed have declared a new war, and that is a war to retake the Planet Earth. No longer will the Unconformed restrict its ranks to qualified citizens of Jade only. From this point on, any human being who is willing to serve in the resistance will be accepted. You will be trained and given the proper qualifications to se
rve as a resistance trooper in different areas of combat and operations. This invitation extends to all human beings, be you nomad or colonist. If you are willing and able, then you will be allowed to enlist.
“I am pleased to announce that, at this time, we are in the process of building an air force. Over the past week, we successfully carried out a covert operation which placed forty-seven military fighter jets in our possession. We are currently training pilots to man these aircraft, so anyone with flight experience is also welcome to join our ranks. That being said, we will put out coordinates at the end of every week. These coordinates will be locations for anyone willing to join the fight. We are going to need your help to take this planet back.
“Listen for the next broadcast of the coordinate locations. If you come, we will welcome you into our ranks. We have made our declaration of war known to the plague through our first contact. We have declared the following: they are to release all prisoners of war, hand over the treacherous colonies, return to their ships, and leave our world. Join us. This battle for Earth begins, tonight.”
He paused, hoping that everything he had said was adequate. Then he spoke one last time.
“This is Troy Williams. We are the Unconformed. And we will survive.”
FLIGHT SCHOOL
Myriad stood tall in front of the mirror. She was doing her best to adopt a posture that would suggest confidence and control to the recruits she would be meeting in a matter of minutes. Training others to fly had seemed like a good idea when she had agreed to it back in the infirmary at Jade. Now here she was, so nervous about being the Unconformed’s first combat flight instructor that she was sizing herself up in the mirror.
It had been a couple of weeks since the covert operation to retrieve the fighter planes. Outpost Charlie was very well hidden, and its crew used the down time to make sure that the alien patrols still did not know of its existence. Myriad had been given her own private quarters. She did not know it, but Troy had left the outpost’s commanding officer strict instructions to see that her tenure at the outpost was as comfortable and stress-free as possible. He would be checking in on her.