“Bruce English told me. He was in Land Forces, Mr. Harding,” George replied.
“That was twenty years ago. Ain’t the same. Things have changed,” the man said. His statement sounded almost like a question.
“The TLC has been the standard landing craft in the Space Forces for over thirty years, still is,” another young man in the group said. “Those aren’t TLC’s.”
“You an aeronautical expert, Guy?” Harding asked, glaring at the young man.
“No, but I know what our landing craft look like.”
“Maybe they ain’t landing craft.”
“What then?” George asked.
Mr. Harding glared at George. “Dunno, you tell me. You and your friend are the experts. Let’s go see.”
“I wouldn’t,” said a man’s voice from the back of the group.
Most of the gathering turned to look at him.
“Why’s that Bruce? You got it figured?” Mr. Harding asked.
Bruce English shook his head. “No, I don’t. Any of you try your communicators or datanet devices in the last couple of minutes?”
Most of the people in the group tried various devices with no success.
“What’s it mean?” someone asked.
“Means we’re being jammed and those landing aircraft aren’t here for a friendly visit.”
Harding shook his head. “You don’t know that, Bruce. You’re just gonna scare people with talk like that. Don’t do nobody no good to start a panic. There isn’t any shooting, no nothing. We need to go see for ourselves.”
“You do what you want. I said it before, I wouldn’t.”
Harding waved his hand in an angry gesture at English as he turned to walk away. “All you’re gonna do is get people all worked up. Over nothing!”
Most of the people in the group went their own way, leaving Bruce, George, and Guy watching Harding walk determinedly toward the landing port.
“What do you think is going on, Bruce?” George asked.
“Don’t know for sure, but it’s an invasion.”
“But how? Why didn’t we get word?” Guy asked.
“Can’t say, but maybe they overwhelmed the forces in Bryce and Carlsbad before they could get word out. It has to be the Pythans.”
“Why would they come here?” Guy asked.
“Can’t say,” Bruce said with a shake of his head. “Maybe the same reason we came here, but I don’t think it’s wise to go ask them.”
“What are we going to do?” George asked.
“I’m going home and grab my hunting gear, a weapon or two, all the spare ammo and portable food I have, and get out of town before they close us in, that’s what.”
“Guy and me will go with you, right, Guy?” George said eagerly, looking to his friend.
“Yeah… I guess,” Guy replied, “but what about our families. I have a fiancée.”
“I know, Guy, but if they got everything jammed, how do we get in touch with them?” George said.
“We can’t,” Bruce said. “We have to get out as soon as possible. Talk with whoever you find, but don’t waste time. Guy, if you think you need to stay, then you do that. You’ll need to make a decision. Meet me at my house in thirty minutes if you’re going, both of you.”
The two young men nodded and took off at a trot.
Bruce English looked up as a trio of Pythan landing craft crossed the sky above.
Rocks, hard places, and not much in between, he thought. He sighed heavily and shook his head, then set out for his house.
-(o)-
“We brought a couple of guys with us. I hope that’s okay?” George said as he approached.
Bruce was loading a pack and two plastic boxes into the bed of a four-seat runabout, a light, four-wheel-drive vehicle.
Bruce looked up and saw George and Guy with two young men of similar age. All four carried rifles along with packs or duffel bags.
“Load your gear and we’ll get moving,” Bruce said. “My sister and brother-in-law will be here soon. One of you can ride with them.”
A few minutes later a vehicle much like Bruce’s pulled up with three people aboard.
“Bruce, word is the Land Forces unit down at Bixby is fighting the invaders,” the driver of the vehicle said as he climbed out. He was Bruce’s age. He ignored the younger men in his haste to speak with Bruce.
“They say they’re Pythans,” he continued. “You think we ought to wait and see what happens before we go running off to the hills?”
“No. If Land Forces can beat them, then great, we can come back to town and call ourselves fools for running, Alan. If the Pythans win, we’ll be stuck here. Besides, we have Pythans right here in Tasco.”
“You right. We ready then?”
“If you got room for one more we are.”
“Who all we got here?” Allan asked, looking over the George and his friends. “Maybe introductions are—”
The sound of small arms fire coming from the direction of the landing port cut short Alan’s statement.
“Let’s do the intros later,” Bruce said. “We better get moving now.”
“You won’t get an argument from me,” Alan replied. “Whichever one of you is riding with me,” he said looking at the quartet of young men, “get aboard.”
One of the men that came with George and Guy ran to Alan’s vehicle and climbed into one of the back seats as the other three boarded Bruce’s vehicle.
The rough tread on the off-road tires hummed on the pavement as the two vehicles went west.
When they reached the outskirts of the city, a man flagged them down.
“There’s vehicles out there,” he said pointing down the road to the west. Ain’t nothing I ever seen before. Strange uniforms too.”
“Pythans,” Bruce said.
“You don’t say.” He paused a moment in thought, looking at the weapons and supplies the group carried. “Seems like you got the right idea. I just might light out too,” the man said as he started walking away. “Name’s Jasper. See you in the hills,” he yelled with a wave and a smile.
Bruce quickly relayed what the man had told him to the quartet in the other vehicle.
“We’re going to go slow and careful,” he said. “We need to see them before they see us.”
The vehicles ran along the side of the road against the tree line, stopping frequently to observe and listen.
A short distance beyond town they entered one of the large agricultural centers that were located all around the city. They went a short distance, passing from an area of service buildings to a road edged with maize fields, tall with bright green stalks. Ahead was a crossroads.
Bruce stopped at the side of the road near a wide path that allowed irrigator towers to roll through the fields. The hum of tires came from somewhere ahead.
“You think that might be the truck that guy back there mentioned?” asked Guy from the seat behind Bruce.
He nodded. “I’d say it’s likely.”
Bruce looked back at Alan, his vehicle parked just behind, and signaled toward the dirt path. They moved slowly in an effort to keep from creating a visible dust cloud, stopping periodically to listen for the truck.
They came to another intersection and stopped before they moved into it.
“We need to move east, but I don’t want to get caught on that road if the Pythans show up on the other end,” Bruce said.
“We could go on foot and sneak through the crops,” Alan offered.
“That’s probably the safest, but I’d really like to keep the vehicles. They may come in handy.”
“George and I could move forward and signal you when it’s clear,” Guy said.
“I don’t know,” Bruce said. “It’s not that—”
“You know I can be stealthy, Bruce,” George said. “We’ve hunted together. Guy is better than I am. We’re not children.”
Bruce smiled. “What do you think, Alan?”
“You’re right about the vehicles.” Alan
gestured at George and Guy. “If you think these two are able, I say let them scout things out.”
“This isn’t a game, remember that,” Bruce said looking at the two young men. “Signal when it’s clear and be ready to move when we get there.”
“You can count on us,” Guy said eagerly.
The pair moved into the maize and disappeared from sight within a few steps and in a short time the noise of their passing through the crops faded.
Bruce moved to the corner and peeked around the edge of the greenery, looking up the path where they would move when signaled.
The Pythan vehicle was still prowling to the east, the group by the vehicles could hear it, but Bruce had yet to see it from his vantage point.
George ran out into the path two hundred meters distant and waved his arms, then he signaled a ‘come here’ gesture to Bruce.
Bruce stepped into the path and waved at George. He ran for his vehicle and said, “Let’s go,” to his companions.
“Quick, let’s cross!” George said as the vehicles stopped where the two men had been hiding. “Is it still clear, Guy?” he said leaning toward the maize.
“Yes,” Guy answered from somewhere nearby, but out of sight. “I’m moving out onto the road. Pick me up there.”
George climbed into Bruce’s vehicle and they moved onto the road and stopped. Alan drove past them when Bruce signaled with a wave of his arm while Guy burst from the crops and jumped on board.
Within minutes, the two vehicles were gone from sight, slipping into the dense forest on a hunting trail. The dense cover of oaks and pines, lances and junipers, elms, chorts, ash, and a myriad other tree species would blunt almost all Pythan searches from the air and space, and make ground searches tedious and hazardous.
It wasn’t long before they found they were not the only ones to have the same idea of escape. Most were able to sneak away as Bruce’s group did. Some others had to fight their way out.
Many chose to move deep into the wilds, live off the land, and pray the Pythans didn’t find them.
Others were like Bruce English, and wished to resist the Pythan invaders.
“We move well up into the hills. We find a place where we can support ourselves, where we can see them coming. Somewhere they can’t see us, even from space or the air. We keep forward observation posts and patrols to keep tabs on the Pythans,” he had said during a meeting of people hashing out what they might do.
“When we’re ready we start striking back. We can’t expel them. We win by tying them up, harassing them. This is a war, but it’s an unconventional one for us. There are no lines, there will be no pitched battles. We hit them, hurt them, then run. We force the Pythans to commit forces here to deal with us, forces that aren’t fighting Land Forces somewhere else, that’s how we help the Coalition effort, by making life difficult for the Pythans here.”
“What if we don’t fight? Maybe the Pythans just ignore us,” someone responded.
English shook his head. “We must fight. The people down there need to know they haven’t been abandoned. We have to believe that the CFS is going to fight back, that they’ll return here eventually, otherwise we might as well go back down there and turn ourselves in and become Pythans or live like rodents somewhere in the wilds. Anyone want to do that?”
Most of the gathering shook their heads.
“What if the Pythans take it out on our folks back in town for stuff we do?” asked a voice from the back of the crowd.
“I don’t think we can answer that until we see what reprisals the Pythan take. I do worry about reprisals though. We don’t really know what the Pythans are like. We have a vague idea, but it’s based on information three hundred years old.
“A lot of those people down there will blame us for the reprisals, but it will galvanize others. It won’t be easy or pleasant for anyone involved. All I can say is this, I’m going to fight. For those of you that don’t agree with that course of action, you’re free to do what you wish.
“I would suggest we don’t attack the Pythans in the settlements. If we did and the Pythans think the locals had anything to do with it, those locals would take it in the teeth for something we did. We hit patrols and outposts that are isolated, attack them where they are weak and alone, anyplace where they are away from our people and we have an advantage.”
Among those who wished to resist, Bruce became a leader. Many of those not willing to take up arms against the Pythans chose to stay, some to provide support, others because they had nowhere else to go.
The group moved to the foot of the Freitag Mountains and utilized caves and the heavy tree cover to stay out of sight of Pythan surveillance.
The Pythans had taken control of all communication systems and had resumed radio and video broadcasts. Dominating the airwaves were regulations that the captured populace was required to follow and religious instruction that was to aid in the populace in converting to the Pythan faith. Every so often, there would be reports of people who fled shortly after the invasion returning to Bixby or Tasco, either voluntarily or by force. While the broadcasts were of little intelligence value to the resistance force, it did provide a glimpse into what life was like for the friends and family members left behind.
The actions by the resistance began small. The observation positions they operated from were isolated and coordination was difficult in the rough terrain. Early engagements were limited to harassing Pythan patrols and checkpoints with sniper fire, and the occasional ambush when the opportunity presented itself. While these attacks were successful in frustrating the Pythans and forced them to increase the size of units that ventured away from the two main cities on Gates, and increased the size of the resistance armory, they were not a credible threat to Pythan forces.
The Pythan military governor condemned the attacks as terrorism, but there were no reprisals against Coalition citizens living under Pythan rule.
The committee formed to oversee resistance actions did not try to control the numerous groups that were fighting the Pythans or direct their actions so long as they did not create a threat to the community living hidden near the mountains. There was little coordination between groups.
For several weeks this continued, and with winter approaching, Bruce English suggested a group of resistance fighters infiltrate the city of Tasco to gather needed supplies and garner intelligence from family and friends.
A force of sixteen resistance fighters was assembled from numerous groups, men and women who knew people in Tasco, and were proven to be disciplined and calm people. Among these fighters were George and Guy.
To lead the team, the committee chose a man named Vance, an able and effective fighter. The team would utilize a pair of vehicles to get near the city, then infiltrate by foot.
“Remember, this is a recon,” Bruce told them before they left. “Get in and learn what you can, then get out undetected.”
The team made the two-day trip down from the mountains out of the sight of the Pythans, and after hiding their vehicles, slowly worked their way into Tasco.
Things went well. They were able to gather most of the supplies they wanted and learned that most of the people in Tasco were in support of the resistance. They also learned the Pythan force on Gates was not as large as the resistance feared, and the harassing attacks caused considerable strain on the Pythan soldiers.
Vance decided to take the team out just after dark and move through the same agriculture center English and his group had passed through months before. There was little to be seen of the crops, harvest was well past and all that remained were the dry brown stalks that protruded from the soil.
As the team moved into the area of administration, service, and storage buildings, they heard the sound of vehicles.
“It has to be Pythans. Almost no one is allowed the use of vehicles unless the Pythans okay it, and certainly not at night,” Vance said.
“It sounds like many vehicles to me,” said a woman in the group. “A convoy maybe?”
“They are coming this way. We’ll know soon enough,” a man said.
“If it’s a convoy, I think we should consider hitting it. If it looks like we can pull it off that is,” Vance said.
“We’re supposed to avoid detection,” Guy said. “What happens if they retaliate against the populace?”
Vance shook his head. “They haven’t done that so far, besides, the people in Tasco might like to see what we can do. If you don’t want to participate, stay out of the way.”
The sounds of the vehicles grew louder, the lights from them now visible.
“They’re slowing down,” someone said. “They’re going to turn onto this road.”
“Everyone take cover. I’ll fire first, that’ll be the signal,” Vance said.
The men and women ran for places of cover and concealment. Guy and George moved behind a nearby building.
“Are we going to take part or not?” Guy asked.
“I don’t know. They might need our help. Two rifles from sixteen is a lot.”
“Yes it is.” Guy thought for a moment. “It’s going to happen if we fight or not. They need us.”
The convoy was moving toward them, their headlights obscuring how many vehicles there were, but Vance decided to go through with the ambush.
The lead vehicle, a truck, went past the first few resistance fighters hiding among the buildings. When it neared Vance’s position, he fired, hitting the driver. The truck rolled to a stop as the rest of the group opened fire.
A Pythan machine gun opened up, firing at the nearest fighters.
“I’ll try for the gunner,” George said. “You look for other targets.”
Guy looked through the scope on his rifle. He heard George’s rifle bark. “Got him,” his friend said just after the machine gun went silent.
Guy could see several downed Pythans near the trucks and silhouettes and shadows of enemy soldiers running in the headlights. He saw a man climb up the side of a truck, waving his arm, extolling the men around him. An officer, Guy thought.
He set his crosshairs high on the man’s torso and fired. The man jolted in shock and fell from sight, lost in the shadows and confusion.
Conflict: The Pythan War, Invasion Page 14