Gods of War (Jethro goes to war Book 5)

by Chris Hechtl

“Yes, ma'am. Romeo One out,” he said.

  “Out,” she said. He looked at the radio and then switched channels to some of the others in the neighboring area. He heard the captain berating some of the personnel assigned to Bixby, but the other towns were too far out of range to hear clearly.

  He got up out of bed and grabbed his pants. Whatever was going on, he'd better follow orders; the boss lady wasn't in a forgiving mood. He had a good haul but decided to rig it with a booby-trap rather than destroy it. That way if someone came in nosey they'd get their just deserts … but if he needed it, he could come back for it.

  <)>^<)>/

  Isabel saw Corporal Lishman gather his troops and then rush off. She looked out the window and then when they went out of view she slowly went outside and then looked down Main Street. The group passed Al's Market and kept going. Other people came out to see what was going on.

  “What …?” Judith asked; shaking her head as Ole Buck came out.

  “Apparently they got called away?” Judith asked, clearly confused and a little bewildered. “Does anyone know what's going on?” she asked.

  “We don't have a clue,” Old Buck said as more people came out to mill about and ask what was going on. “But I think we need to find out,” he said grimly.

  <)>^<)>/

  Jon and Vanessa had seen the distant bombings with their kids but hadn't understood what it meant. The hills blocked out most of the wind. A short time later they heard and then saw a convoy of vehicles tear up the road past them into the hills. Air drones and troops hung onto the sides. Robots and gear seemed to be taped to the hoods and top of the trucks and vehicles. As the vehicles hit some of the bumps, some of the gear was knocked loose and fell off. One guy fell off into a ditch. The rear truck pulled up to pick him up. He grabbed someone and pulled himself into the truck, seemingly upset and in a hurry.

  They weren't certain what it all meant. The following morning Jon and the boys had gathered up the discarded gear and then hid it in the root cellar. Some of it was busted and wasted. The food that hadn't been packaged they tossed into the compost pile.

  The events provoked a dilemma with them. Vanessa needed to go to town, Gretchen had missed her period, and the concern was that she was pregnant. They had to abort the abomination that was growing in her womb and prepare for the coming winter.

  Two days after the invaders left but fortunately never returned, Vanessa and Alvin took a chance and went to town. They were confused to see that there was no roadblock out on the road. Where there had once been a guard force, there was nothing—just trash and a burn area. They'd left wood piles and toppled chairs in their haste to leave. She was gratified by the sight. Since there was no toll, it would make her trading easier.

  She considered making a larger delivery to the town. They'd made the harvest; the silos were full as was the root cellar and every place they could store food and hay. With the invaders gone, they should get their grain into the mill she thought. If they could get there, they might be able to mill as much as possible before the invaders returned she thought with a slight nod.

  “Remind me to talk to your dad about the grain,” she murmured to Alvin. Alvin nodded dubiously. His eyes continued to search the area as they road over the bridge and then around the bend and into town.

  She made her delivery to an excited Al. “I was almost out,” Al said as he rousted his boys to help unload. “There has been a run on me again ever since all hell broke loose,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, do you know what's going on? We saw the invaders tear up the road and not come back,” Veronica said as she passed Alvin a coin to go shop with. The boy grinned and took off at a trot for the display of sweets. He looked in there but there wasn't much left since sugar was still in short supply so he turned to the small toys Al had on display.

  “Yeah, they took every truck and vehicle that could run. Cleaned out all the fuel and took what looks like all the food and ammo they could carry. Good riddance,” Serena said as she came over to them. Vanessa noted others in town nearby had seen her arrival and were taking an interest. They would undoubtedly pass the news on to their neighbors. She knew Al would be mobbed by new customers soon enough.

  Al reported what they knew, that the invaders had been hit. “We're getting in radio reports from all over that those flashes of light hit them. It's like what happened when the invaders first came.” He grunted as he moved a barrel to the lip of the wagon, then over the side on his own since his sons weren't around.

  “So, someone new is invading?” Vanessa asked as Serena moved in to scold her husband. One look on Al's face told the two women that Al regretted his impatience. He clutched and rubbed at the small of his back.

  “Damned if I know,” Al said with a shake of his head as he leaned against a barrel and continued to rub his back.

  “Serves you right,” his wife scolded softly. “You should have worn your belt and waited for the boys,” she said, snapping his suspenders.

  He grunted, then turned to let her fingers massage the aching muscles.

  “It’s chaos everywhere,” Serena said as the boys came up. “Where were you when your father needed you?” she scolded, eying George. He and Boyd looked away, muttering something about the jakes as they muscled the barrel onto a dolly to move it into the warehouse.

  “I've got sturdy locks, but it is worrying,” Al said with a grunt. He caught his wife's hand and kissed it lovingly, making her preen and look away in embarrassment. He hugged her briefly until she gasped, then released her as she smiled reprovingly at him.

  “Now that the invaders have left and haven't returned, some of their supporters have forted up in the jail,” Al said grimly. “Yesterday two people had tried to go to the quarters of the invaders, only for the entire building to blow up in their face. They and several people who had been nearby were dead. The building is rubble,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “That tells me they aren't planning to come back,” Serena said with a smile.

  Vanessa nodded thoughtfully.

  “Some of the hot heads in town have been trying to roust the quislings out of the jail, but they don't have the right weapons and aren't foolish enough to assault them in the brick and stone building,” Al explained. “Apparently wisdom wins out over stupidity and valor. They've heard what some of those weapons can do,” he said. “Besides, we can always wait them out. They need to come out to go to clean the privy and get new water and food eventually,” he said.

  “Planning on holding a trial?” Vanessa asked, as she leaned against the wagon.

  “Hell with that, though Ole Buck would never forgive any of us if we didn't. We'll see,” Al said.

  They went over to Al's office and tallied up what she had delivered. She had quite the balance and used it to get her shopping list. She had a lot of credit left over, however. She took half in cash and the rest left on Al's books.

  “Can you mind Alvin while I go into town? I've got some business,” she said as she pocketed the change. “And a few other deliveries,” she said.

  “The Pharmacy? I noted the bags and such,” Al said with a nod. “You're lucky; I think it's still open. I'm not sure though, I haven't left the store in weeks,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Okay,” Vanessa said.

  She went up Main Street. She saw a lot of empty stores and buildings. The sign maker was closed and boarded up, but it looked like the shop had been vandalized. There was a strange symbol drawn on the door, one she wasn't sure of. She saw the same sign on the mason's door as well as the florists, Eon, the papermaker's door, and carpenter's. Even Polly the chemist was out of business she noted grimly.

  She saw that the mechanic had taken over Freya and Chuck's smithy, but the man didn't look too happy about working with a hammer instead of his usual tools. Tough she thought. The courthouse was dark as was the print shop. There was a bit of work going on at the other end of town, a little bit of work on a couple of roofs, and some peo
ple around the mill at the far end of the street. Good she thought.

  Occasionally, she saw a head stick its way out a door and window. She would wave but continue on. She looked grimly on as she passed the burned-out shell of Flo's house. A few hundred meters down, she was grateful to see the mortar and pestle sign of Zane Broussard, the pharmacist on the other side of Essen's inn. She went into the pharmacy and talked with Zane.

  He bought the materials she'd brought in after a quick check on the quality and quantity. She traded some of the raw ingredients she had with her for some of what she needed in return. She had plenty of Tussilago and horseradish and other herbs, but Zane did a better job of mixing the cough syrup than she did.

  She had a quiet word with Latisha about the tansy. The woman had stared at her, then nodded soberly and added it to the pile. “Mind you, be careful with the dosage,” Zane said when he recognized the small package. He had written the dosage out on the packaging.

  They settled the bill up. She paid a bit more with the cash she'd gotten from Al, but it had been worth it in her estimation. There was nothing more relieving than knowing they had the right medicines from an experienced hand.

  “Anna said she hasn't seen the kids in school as of late,” Latisha said almost absently.

  “Yeah, things have been rather busy around the farm with the harvest. And Clarice caught a cold, and of course Ronald picked it up …,” she grimaced.

  “Ah,” Latisha said with a nod. “Well, you'll be happy to know that her assistant is with them who took up in the jail,” she said with a slight grimace. “And since we're all unsure of what is going on at the moment, she decided to fall back to old tried and true methods and materials for the moment. Not that she has a lot of them,” she said.

  “Ah,” Vanessa replied thoughtfully. She still wasn't committed to letting the children off the farm, but it was an idea. “Well, I'll keep a weather eye out. If it stays clear and things settle down …,” she pointed to the sky. “I'll have a chat with Jon,” she said as Latisha finished bundling the bag up.

  “Thank you. I know Anna misses the kids,” Latisha said as she handed the package over. Vanessa nodded and made her way out.

  <)>^<)>/

  Corporal Lishman was still confused as his convoy got to the fallback location with his fire team and militia units in their appropriated vehicles. They had all the ammo, equipment, and MREs they could carry, but they had realized on the first night camping out that they had forgotten their winter clothes and gear in their haste to leave. And they didn't have any other snivel gear like blankets, sleeping bags, or other gear the corporal thought as they formed a defensive circle.

  “Now what?” he muttered. He pulled out his radio, but there was no reception. He switched channels, but there was no response. He tried the satellite radio, but there was also no response.

  “You two,” he pointed to Private Adkins and then to Private Lexington. “Take two of the locals and then go to the nearest farms. Hit them up for food, ammo, blankets, and snivel gear. Firewood, everything we're going to need,” the corporal stated.

  “Should we um …,” Adkins rubbed the back of his neck. He looked around for support from the others but no one said anything. “Should we just go to a farm and occupy it?”

  “It's not here, and this is where we were ordered to be,” Vincent said pointedly. “Unload the trucks and go.”

  “Yes, sir,”

  They had enough MREs to last a week with the number of mouths they had to feed. Two if they pushed it. If the farms nearby were empty, they'd be in trouble for food, the corporal realized. If they were burned out they'd be in serious trouble.

  “Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered.

  “Sir, have you been listening to the HAM net?” a local asked, pointing to the long whip-like antenna attached to the rear truck. “A lot of stuff going on there. Something about a bombing? Federation forces about to invade?” he asked.

  “Shit,” the corporal snarled. He looked around, then up to the cloudy sky. “Get everyone under cover,” he said, pointing to the tree line. “Cover up. We need to not be a big fat juicy target,” he growled as his people began to move.

  Now things were starting to make some sense he thought as he went over to the truck with the HAM radio.

  <)>^<)>/

  As reports started to pile in, Jean Claude started to see a glimmer of hope. Reports were coming in that the invaders’ main bases and even some of their small fortresses had been destroyed in what some were calling an orbital bombardment.

  Word was that some of the gas chambers and prison camps had also fallen. Excitement was in the air, along with grim determination to throw off the yoke of the oppressors. “We finally have a chance!” Wade said in excitement, eyes glittering. He clutched at his shotgun.

  “A chance to do what? Where is the Federation? That's it?” Ned asked, shaking his head. “It's been three days now, but they didn't invade.”

  “They hit the bastards hard! Now it's up to us!” Wade insisted. “We need to get in, do as much damage as we can while we can,” he said.

  “With what? Hunting rifles? Tooth and claw?” Ned demanded.

  “Every one of them we kill is one that can't kill us!” Wade argued.

  “He's right,” Jean Claude said. All eyes turned to him. “We kill small pockets of them. Small numbers, ambush them while they are off balance and out of contact with each other since their satellites are down. Make the bastards pay in blood for what they want. They are hurting. We can't finish them off, but we can hurt them and make them concentrate again for safety. Hopefully, the people upstairs will see and do something else to finish the job.”

  “Hopefully?!?” Ned demanded, hands apart. “You are basing everything on hopefully?” he said.

  “That's the best we've got now,” Wade said grimly. “It's enough. If we can get our hands on some of their equipment …”

  “Remember, we're not trained soldiers,” Ned cautioned. “And before you say the militia is, remember, they've been training them for months,” he stated, holding up a restraining finger to Wade. “They don't have the full military gear that the Horathians do, but they've got a lot,” he said as he turned to Jean Claude. “I think we need to focus on them first. Hit them, grab their gear, and then go for bigger and tougher targets. If we bite off more than we can chew, we pull back,” he said.

  “Right,” Wade said in agreement.

  “Then you two set up the op since you are our field commanders,” Jean Claude said. “Find a target nearby and pound them before they get a warning out.”

  “Understood,” Wade said.

  <)>^<)>/

  Captain Pablo Eronez was thinking about lost opportunities as he tried to figure out his next move. He'd heard the general on the radio but hadn't been tempted to call in and report his position for fear of getting a rock dropped on his head.

  That fear had dissipated when no further strikes nor any report of a landing by the Federation forces came over the local HAM radio network. And as the fear began to dissipate, his righteous anger at what had happened and the wreckage to his plans they presented came bubbling forth.

  He'd been forced to withdraw to his compound once the streets became ugly. His supporters followed suit. He took them in, knowing he'd need as many as he could get his hands on if he was going to take back the streets.

  Hoarding was going on, plus some celebrations. He'd taken note of who had been celebrating for future reprisals … if he ever got the chance to act on them. For the moment though, he made certain his people on guard showed off their weapons but didn't fire them on the occasional person who walked by as a warning. That would keep the mob at a distance for the time being.

  He wasn't so certain it would last forever though. He knew he was going to run out of food soon with so many mouths to feed. Twice he'd sent a pair of people out to get food … only for them to never return. That was a problem he knew.

  Finally, when no invasion presented itself,
he called in a brief report to the general. It was time he got back into the game he thought grimly.

  <)>^<)>/

  General Drier did his best to get his people on board with the Omega plan. Unfortunately, it had been a contingency plan they'd never drilled on; no one ever really focused on failure until it came up and bit them on the ass it seemed.

  The Omega plan also called for an evacuation to the ships while the ships bombed the shit out of the planet to cover their retreat. Obviously that wasn't going to happen, so he had to modify the plan on the fly.

  Part of the problem was that he never really expected a coordinated resistance. He'd played lip service to it, but what could a bunch of backwoods hicks with hunting rifles really do? Meeting up with organized professionals hadn't been a part of his planning; the empire was supposed to be the only professional outfit out there. His dreams of conquering the planet and then moving on to a stellar career had gone up in smoke, but he was too busy trying to get his surviving people organized, dispersed, and ready to resist the enemy to feel sorry for himself.

  But, no invasion was forthcoming. He still kept his people moving and hammered any resistance from the natives when he had units to do so. But he counseled his people to raid only—hit, take what they want, maintain radio discipline, then get out fast.

  His one bright spot on the horizon was the survival of Captain Zhukov and his troops. He didn't know how many they had and had no clue what was left of their gear, but they should put a dent in the enemy's plans when they arrived.

  Whenever that was, he mused darkly as he stared at the planetary map in the light of the fireplace.

  Half of his division, which was most of Colonel Hill's First Brigade, was gone he thought as he looked at the TOE on his implant HUD. A good chunk of Second had gone right along with them. Anyone within the perimeter of a major or minor base had been killed by a KEW strike. Only his forces dispersed in the towns and villages had been safe.

  Captain Goddard had managed to capture an amateur telescope. Her people had reported no sighting of the ships in orbit. It was too much to hope for that the enemy had just upped and left. It didn't make sense that they'd done that. Why would they? He shook his head as he poured himself a glass of the terrible rotgut the former owners of the farmhouse had stored in their pantry.