The Fae Wars: The Fall

by Lucas Marcum

  O’Malley took the envelope and nodded. “She’s in the hospital?”

  “Supposed to be. You’d best get moving.” The private pointed at the rapidly brightening sky and said, “Today’s the day, sir. Good luck.”

  “Same to you.” On impulse, O’Malley reached over and shook the man’s hand, then climbed out of the Humvee. He opened the rear door and helped the others climb out, then handed each their rifles and helmets. Lawson watched them unload, then leaned over and called out, “Keep an eye on the skies!” He closed the door and pulled away.

  O’Malley looked at Acevedo, who just shrugged and put her helmet on. “Ready when you are, sir.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The small group made their way down the road when O’Malley pointed. “Is that white light?”

  Acevedo squinted, then shook her head. “It is. Son of a bitch. They’re not exercising light and noise discipline.” She looked at O’Malley. “Are we going to have a say in that?”

  “We are if I have anything to do with it, and since we’re their security, you’d better believe we will. Let’s pick up the pace.” Increasing their speed, the group rapidly closed the distance. After a few minutes of fast walking, they turned a corner and came into a clearing. In the clearing, there was a beehive of furious activity. Some soldiers were erecting tents, while others unloaded containers into piles. Still others were popping out modular units that would eventually become operating rooms and other parts of the hospital. Over it all blazed brilliant white lights, illuminating the entire area. No one challenged them on the way in, or seemed to notice when they walked out of the darkness.

  O’Malley walked up and grabbed a nearby soldier by his equipment vest. “Where’s the TOC?”

  “Dunno, sir. I just got here.” The young man pointed towards the center of the equipment strewn parking lot. “There’s a colonel over there somewhere, yelling at people. His name is Panic or something.”

  With a suspicious look, Acevedo retorted, “You’re shitting me.”

  “Honest to god, Sergeant. I thought it was bullshit too, but he’s a real guy and appears to be in charge.” The specialist shrugged. “He seems rough, so be careful.”

  “Thanks.” Acevedo looked at O’Malley, who sighed and replied, “All right. Let’s go find this ‘Colonel Panic’.”

  Behind them, Specialist Beck looked at the chaos around them and muttered, “Let’s hope the name doesn’t describe his leadership style.”

  Making their way through the clutter and soldiers running around doing countless tasks, O’Malley spied a Conex that had a generator set up next to it, several radio antennas, and an open-sided tent next to it. Under the tent were three folding tables, loaded with communications equipment and manned by several stressed looking soldiers. In the middle of the tent, a man stood at attention, while another screamed at him.

  “And another thing, Lieutenant. When I want your goddamn opinion on how to run a hospital, I’ll goddamn ask. But since I am a goddamn lieutenant colonel and you are a goddamn junior officer, I won’t be doing that!” The man hurled a clipboard angrily, narrowly missing one of the soldiers manning the radios. “And another goddamn thing! I don’t want to hear about dragons. I don’t want to hear about elves. I don’t want to hear about orcs and fairies and Tinkerbell and Little Red Riding Hood and what the fuck ever other Dungeons and Dragons shit you come up with! I DON’T CARE! I NEED GODDAMN INTELLIGENCE, AND I NEED IT NOW!”

  The lieutenant stood, stone-faced, not moving. The colonel took another breath, then blew it out. He regarded the officer for a moment, then leaned close. “I want you to know I’m going to be putting in the paperwork for a court martial for incompetence and dereliction of duty in wartime.” He stopped glaring at the man. “Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  “No, sir,” the young officer answered in a wooden tone. “The intelligence I give you and your staff comes directly from the G2 here at Fort Indiantown Gap. I do not alter, change, or add to it. Those reports are verbatim from Lieutenant Colonel Keenan, the divisional intelligence officer. I suggest you take this up with him, sir.” The lieutenant stared straight ahead, not meeting the colonel’s eyes.

  “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” the colonel screamed in the man’s face. O’Malley could see veins popping out in his neck. The lieutenant saluted deliberately, about-faced, and marched past O’Malley and Acevedo. As he passed them, he made a resigned face and rolled his eyes.

  O’Malley watched the man go past, then stepped forward. “Excuse me, sir.”

  The man turned quickly, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

  “I’m Captain O’Malley, and this is Sergeant Acevedo, from the 652nd Rear Area Security Detachment. We’re your security detail.”

  “It’s about goddamn time. Sorry you had to see that. Come here.” The colonel turned to a table covered with maps, and as he did, O’Malley could see his nametape. It read ‘Panico’. Next to him, O’Malley could hear Acevedo sigh and mutter something under her breath that sounded like ‘Motherfucker’. Shooting her a warning look, O’Malley stepped up to the table and took his helmet off.

  The colonel stabbed at the map with a finger. “This is the front line, along I-81. We’re backed up against the foothills by whoever these fuckers are. There’s no fallback position from here except on the other side of the Appalachians.” His finger tapped the map. “This here is their line of approach, with their air support mostly coming from the southeast, out of the Philly area.” He waved an arm irritably around him. “I’m an infantry officer by training, but they gave me this field hospital when their command cell disappeared somewhere on the road from Lancaster. They’re the most worthless soldiers I’ve ever seen in my life. Medical or no, there’s no discipline. When I was at the Pentagon, I saw units like this, but I didn’t think it was possible for a unit to be this fucked up.” With a hard eye at O’Malley, Panico frowned for a moment, then declared, “We’ll need your company to set up a line of outposts here, here, and here.” His finger traced a line on the map.

  O’Malley looked at it, then at Acevedo, and answered cautiously, “We don’t have a company, Colonel. We’ve got about a platoon.”

  The colonel stared for a moment, then erupted, “God DAMN IT! I asked for a company! Why isn’t this hospital a priority? Where the fuck are your soldiers? I was told you were a company-sized element!”

  “This is all I have left, sir,” O’Malley replied calmly, but feeling the rage building inside of him.

  Panico stabbed O’Malley in the chest with a finger, tapping his plate carrier. “This is unacceptable. Where the fuck are your troops, soldier?” He shook his head and swore. “It’s this type of incompetence that I do not tolerate.” He suddenly shoved his finger into the plate carrier again and said, “You’d better give me a good explanation, Captain.”

  Suddenly deciding he didn’t give a shit anymore, O’Malley snapped, “Dead, sir. My company is dead, mostly burned by dragon fire or slaughtered by the orcs in the defense of Lancaster, buying time for the Regular Army to form up here. We lost more on the retreat as the dragons burned our column.” He glared down at the finger. “And if you don’t stop touching me with that, I’m going to shove that finger up your ass…sir.” O’Malley stared the officer directly in the eyes.

  Colonel Panico stared for a minute, then smiled coldly. “Ok. A tough guy, huh? We’ll see just how tough you are.” Eyes locked with O’Malley’s, Panico raised his voice slightly. “Master Sergeant Endo. Take this man into custody for insubordination and disobeying orders in a time of war. Take him and his unit leadership and put them in the pen with the others.”

  The big master sergeant stepped forward, his face apologetic. Before he could, there was a sudden commotion. Sweeping across the field hospital, they could hear shouts of excitement and alarm. Turning from the colonel, O’Malley let his eyes sweep over the panicked soldiers as a soldier nearby stood and screamed, “DRAGONS!”

  Snapping his eyes up
to the sky, he felt his blood run cold. On the horizon to the east, outlined by the rising sun, there were the dark, winged shapes of dozens of dragons.

  -3-

  “Battle of the Iron Hills”

  Fort Indiantown Gap

  Pennsylvania

  The big master sergeant promptly moved towards the radio operator and said, in a deep bass voice with an African accent Acevedo couldn’t identify, “Notify the garrison command post that we’ve sighted dragons on the horizon.” He turned to a nearby staff sergeant and snapped, “Get the troops dispersed into the tree line. Until we know the airspace is secure, keep them quiet and under cover.” He then stepped over to Colonel Panico, who was staring at the shapes wordlessly. “Sir, with your permission, I’m getting the troops under cover.”

  “What? Oh. Yes,” Panico replied, his eyes not leaving the shapes rapidly growing larger on the horizon.

  The master sergeant turned to O’Malley and Acevedo, frowned for a moment, then stepped close and murmured, “Get back to your troops. We have them holding over by the lake, in the trees. Set up a perimeter to the east.” The tall man’s dark eyes bored into O’Malley’s. “Do what you can, Captain. That defensive line at 81 is the last one for a long ways.”

  “Endo!” Colonel Panico snapped. “Why have the troops stopped working? Get them back to work.”

  “Sir…” the NCO began.

  Panico cut him off. “No. No excuses. Get them back to building the hospital. Make sure the red crosses are visible. We’re non-combatants, and there’s going to be a lot of real soldiers getting hurt out there that will need these people’s help.” He waved at the chaos of the partially built field hospital. “Get them back to work.”

  Endo frowned and turned slightly to O’Malley and Acevedo. He made a ‘shoo’ motion with a hand and spoke slowly to the officer. “Sir, there’s an air raid in progress. We need to take cover…”

  “No. Get the work parties back on duty and get the goddamn crosses up. We have to let them know we’re not a viable target.” The man was visibly sweating now. He looked nervously at the approaching shapes again.

  O’Malley opened his mouth, “Sir, I…”

  “Captain. Shut up,” Acevedo hissed. “We’re going to get arrested!”

  His eyes locked on the sky, Panico didn’t seem to notice O’Malley’s presence. O’Malley hesitated a moment, then shook his head angrily.

  Catching Endo’s arm, O’Malley said in a harsh tone, “It doesn’t matter. They burned the 348th Field Hospital to the ground outside Harrisburg. Over 600 doctors, nurses, and medics died in the flames. They don’t give a shit.” Releasing the man’s arm, he put his helmet back on and fastened the strap. “We’ll be setting up a perimeter to the east, Master Sergeant. Call if you need us.”

  Endo nodded, turned, picked up two handheld radios, and passed them over, along with a small code book. Tapping the smaller radio, then the larger, he said, “This one is tactical air, this one is tactical ground.” The big NCO grimaced and added, “We got them off a JTAC operator who won’t be needing them anymore, and none of us know how to use them, anyway, so we use them to listen to air operations. If you’re watching our perimeter, you’ll need them more than we will.” He indicated the first radio again. “If we need you, we’ll call Defender 5-3. We’re Mercy 2-5.” He held up the book. “These are the most recent codes. It’s only good for today. Tomorrow, a new one will come out. If the garrison commander needs to tell everyone something, that’s how he’ll do it.” The gaunt master sergeant handed the radios and code book to Acevedo, who accepted it silently.

  There was a distant boom that caused everyone to flinch. There was a pause, then another. In a few seconds the thumping became regular, with the booming coming every few seconds. Endo pointed at the tree line. “Artillery.” He looked at O’Malley. “Go now. I’ll take care of things here.”

  O’Malley shook his head, turned, and left at a fast walk, with Acevedo right behind him. He glanced at the sky to the east. As he did, a faint smoke trail reached up from the ground, clearly aimed at the dragons. One of them lazily rolled to the side, and the missile went wide. The dragon then dove for the ground and out of sight.

  “Shit,” Acevedo muttered, having seen the same thing. “I wish they’d stop doing that. It just pisses them off.”

  O’Malley grunted and turned on the tactical air radio, which immediately squawked and spit static and confused voices. A man’s voice was speaking in a flat, calm tone. “All air defense units in Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo defensive sectors, prepare for aerial contact. Report all ground contacts to…” Static played and swelled, cutting the man off. O’Malley scowled and switched the channel. A calm voice broke through the static, clear above the high-pitched whine of jet engines, “Renegade 2-6 is 30 seconds out. Weapons hot.”

  A woman’s voice replied, cold and precise, “Copy, Renegade. This is Ugly 3, weapons envelope in 90 seconds. We’ll be launching on your mark.”

  There was a sudden, deafening roar of jet engines, and O’Malley caught a glimpse of a slate-gray fighter as it tore by, barely clearing the treetops. A moment later they could see the fighters pop up, revealing a dozen F-16s with the markings of the New Jersey Air National Guard on them. There was a blinding flash of rocket motors as the missiles under their wings fired, sending dozens of bright sparks skyward as the fighter pilots fired as fast as they could. A split second later, with their missiles expended, the jets banked hard and curved around, fleeing in the direction they’d come.

  Bursts of brilliant blue light fired by the dragonriders chased the retreating fighters. One of them brushed one of the jet’s wingtips. It froze in midair, hanging motionless, then slowly dissolved, dust raining down from where it had been. Another aircraft vanished entirely, leaving the pilot alone in the air. The helpless man windmilled his arms helplessly as he fell silently from the sky and disappeared behind the trees. Yet another plane broke into large chunks and hung motionless, its wreckage stationary in the sky like a cloud made of metal until the gentle winds blew it away.

  As the fighters raced away, the missiles reached their targets. The dragons spun and rolled gracefully, dodging them with ease. Several missiles hit but seemed to strike something in the air and detonate harmlessly. O’Malley could see a circle of blue-green energy flash out as the missiles hit. The flare of light then faded, leaving no trace behind, and the dragon and their riders unharmed.

  The radio spat static, then a broken sentence in the woman’s icy voice, “Ugly Lead to Ugly Flight—fire, fire, fire. Fox 5.”

  Several of the dark shapes had turned towards the fleeing fighters, clearly intending to give chase, when one of them disappeared in a large orange-red cloud. A split second later, the dragon tumbled from the sky, separating into pieces as it fell. Several other massive black and red clouds burst into existence, shaking the dragons and their riders. As the soldiers on the ground watched in awe, another dragon fell from the sky, spiraling towards the ground, a wing shredded by the explosion, and its rider falling free from the saddle as it tumbled towards the earth.

  The female voice spoke again with a taunting, triumphant note in her voice. “Splash two! Nice work, Renegades. The Rough Rider sends her regards. We’ll take it from here.”

  A fraction of a second later, the slate-gray shapes of the Navy Super Hornets were among the dragons, spinning, rolling, and firing missiles and cannons in a violent aerial assault in the skies over the Pennsylvania countryside.

  Without knowing it, O’Malley had stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the unfolding battle in the sky. A split second later, several cannon shells from the battle raging overhead burst on the ground several yards in front of him, and he was startled into action. Grabbing Acevedo’s arm, he bounded towards the nearest cover he could see, a man-made embankment separating the field hospital from the small lake. He dove over it, tumbling down the rocky embankment and landing in the mud on the other side, his boots just barely clearing the water.
He was followed by the small group of soldiers. A split second later, a flight of Apache helicopters roared overhead, their wheels barely clearing the treetops.

  “Holy shit! That was close!” Specialist Beck gasped. She rolled over and, scrambling up the embankment, peered back over the ledge cautiously. “I dropped my helmet.”

  “Leave it for now,” Acevedo replied. “Not worth the risk.” There was a roar from the distance. This one was different than the roaring of explosions and jet engines, sounding like an enraged beast.

  There was a burst of static from the second radio. “Alpha through Echo sector, OP’s report visual contact. Enemy infantry, numbers unknown, estimate several thousand in close formation.” More confused radio traffic followed, including broken contact reports and partially intelligible calls for reinforcements or requests for fire support. A surge of small arms fire could be heard in the distance. There were more weapons than O’Malley had ever heard firing at once, the rippling crackle rapidly rising to a constant roar in the distance as the rifle fire intensified.

  A clear, calm voice broke through the static. “Joker 5-2, This is Keystone 6 Actual. We got several hundred enemies inside the wire down here. Requesting all remaining ordnance be dropped on my position. Repeat, expend all remaining ordinance on the TOC. For the record, this is my call.” The reply was unintelligible. Keystone 6’s voice replied evenly, “We will, indeed. Keystone 6 Actual, out.” The radio spat a few more unintelligible words, then swelled into static. The distant thump of artillery grew into a low continuous rumble, and they could see smoke rising into the sky from the east.

  Acevedo looked at O’Malley. “What the fuck is going on, sir?”

  “I have no idea, but I think this is it. It sounds like they just overran the 28th Infantry’s command post.” O’Malley checked his ammunition pouches. Three magazines for his M4, and two for his 9mm remained. “We need to get a defensive line set up.” A rippling crack grew to a dull roar as cluster munitions went off in the distance.