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From: wolf <twolf3@mailcity.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2001 22:27:53 PST
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS}Repost: CAMP-Ron's Journey PART 7
Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2001 07:10:01 -0500
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As per request. As far as I know this is the last part that was
available. :-)

<1st attachment, "Camp-Ron7.txt" begin>

CAMP - Ron's Journey - Book 7
By: Net Wolf (formerly known as WhiteStar) <netwolf@biosys.net>

-This story may be distributed electronically through the Usenet, so long 
as the first line of this copyright notice is included, and a pointer to 
this message is also included. This story is (C) Copyright 1997-2000 by 
Net Wolf.  For a full copyright notice, go to:
http://www.biosys.net/netwolf.

- This story may be archived, so long as the archive provides totally 
free access. This means that no membership fee, download fee, 
download/upload quota, or AVS service can be required to access the 
story. 

- This story may be printed out a single time, for personal archival and 
use. The author also grants that a printed copy can be made for a friend 
of the reader, given that the recipient of the copy does not have access 
to an electronic version.  NO PAYMENT may be received for any printed 
copy of this story without the written consent of the author. This 
includes, but is not limited to, a fee to defray the costs of printing. 

- This story MAY NOT be placed on any commercial service without the 
express written consent of the author. Any commercial use of this product 
is a violation of this copyright.
-----------------
Author's Note: You may note in Part 7 the introduction of what seems to 
be a new character. Her name is Jill. She is not really a new character 
at all, but is a replacement for the Gillian Anderson character. I have 
done this in order to remove any "real" people from the actual story line 
of the book. Jill Mercer (not that you'll see her last name here) is a 
movie actress who has had a couple of good parts, but whose last movie 
bombed pretty bad, which is why nobody misses her. When I have completed 
CAMP, I will be re-writing the few sections of the book that deal with 
Gillian, to reflect the new character's background. The personality will 
change not at all. I just wanted you to be aware, so you wouldn't be 
confused by the name change.
Net Wolf
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 7: The Psionic War Begins

Chapter 1: An Inauspicious Beginning

Later that night, Ron was going over his plans for the upcoming
battle in Philadelphia. He looked down on the maps and tables that he'd
spread out on his desk. He sighed in resignation, knowing that he could
plan all he wanted, but until he had some experience with how the 
Russians fought en masse, he really didn't have a clue how to position 
his people.

Kimberly had come to the door looking for Ron, and she stood there for a 
moment, just watching him. She saw how his shoulders tensed, how his brow 
furrowed. He's wound up tighter than a clock, she thought to herself. Why 
couldn't I see that before? She continued to watch him for a few moments, 
just observing how he reacted when alone. His mental defenses were down, 
allowing him to rest for the coming war. Others were guarding the house 
now.

When she did finally knock on the doorframe, she saw his body shiver, 
ever so slightly. She had managed to startle him. This was not something 
she was expecting, nor was it something that she had meant, or wanted, to 
do. But it told her a lot about his present state of mind.

Ron looked up, and gestured her in with a slight smile. He continued to 
look down at the map of Philadelphia. She moved across the room silently, 
stepping to his side and briefly looking down at the maps. She saw some 
markings that he had made, but none of it made any sense to her. Her 
experience broke down at this point: she had no familiarity with planning 
such a large confrontation. As a Hunter for the ShadowDragon, she had 
mainly concerned herself with one-on-one battles, seeking out and 
destroying psionics that were deemed dangerous elements by the Dragon's 
Heart. What she saw before her was so much more massive than that, and 
she wondered that anyone could have the skill to prepare a plan for this.

"What do you think?" Ron asked quietly.

"I think... that I am completely out of my depth here," she answered.

Ron chuckled. "So am I." He looked up at her. "Did you need something?"

"I came to tell you that the government is getting very insistent about 
us sending someone to talk to their troops."

"Shit, I'd forgotten. Did they say where they want us to send someone?"

"Washington. They've gathered a good number of people there, for some 
reason or other."

"Probably the crews from the attacks. They'd still be in debriefing. 
Okay, I'll do that tomorrow."

"What about the battle?" she asked, suddenly concerned that he might not 
be there.

"We don't even know if it's going to happen tomorrow. And, if it does 
happen while I'm not there, Lars can handle things." She could see that 
the idea of missing the first battle did not sit well with Ron at all, 
but he was willing to bend to the situation's necessities. Such strength, 
but he is carrying an enormous burden.

"Also, sir, the new uniforms have arrived."

"Good. Have they been distributed yet?"

"Yes, sir, but..."

"But what?"

"There was not one with my name on it." She looked at him, not sure just 
what emotion she felt about this... was it an oversight?

"Oh, that. Well, I thought you'd probably want to wear your traditional 
warrior uniform. I didn't want to show any disrespect..."

"Sir, that uniform is a part of the SkuggDrakarna. I am a member of the 
PPA now."

Ron smiled at her. Thanks for the support, he thought. "Okay, we ordered 
several hundred extras of all sizes. I'm sure one of them will fit you."

"Thank you, sir." She wasn't sure if she should say what she wanted to, 
but she felt that it needed to be said, and she was the only one here. 
"Sir, can I say something?"

Ron looked up at her, giving her his full attention. "Only if it doesn't 
include the word 'sir'," he responded with a grin. "I asked you to call 
me Ron."

She bowed her head sheepishly. "Sorry. I just wanted to say that... 
well... you look very stressed. Perhaps you should take a break, and find 
a way to unwind before tomorrow. You have put a lot of pressure on 
yourself, and that isn't fair to you." She laid her hand very gently 
against his upper arm, doing her best to ignore the tingling feeling it 
gave her just to touch him. "Ron, you've done what you can. You've done 
so much for us. Take some time and do something for yourself."

Ron said nothing for perhaps twenty seconds, and she pulled her hand 
away, fearing she had overstepped her bounds. Then, he looked deep into 
her eyes and said, "Thanks, Kim. I appreciate the thought. And I guess 
you're right; there's not much more I can do with this tonight. Staring 
at it is just giving me a headache." He placed his hand gently against 
her arm now, and gave her a warm smile that melted her insides. "Thanks 
for caring."

As he left the room, leaving her standing there alone with her own 
feelings, she struggled to control her emotions, knowing that it was a 
losing battle, but not wanting to give in. Linda is wrong. This is wrong. 
I cannot love him, it is not right. This is just comradeship for a fellow 
warrior. She kept telling herself that, knowing, even as she repeated it, 
that the words were hollow.

Ron, meanwhile, went searching for a diversion. Most of the members of 
the household were either asleep, or were talking with each other. The 
only one he didn't find right away was Cindy. Curious now, he searched 
the entire house looking for her, and did not find her. He actually began 
to worry about where she might be.

Eventually, he found her out in the garden. It was a private area, not 
open to even the troops staying at the house. Cindy, being a member of 
the family, was allowed free run of the grounds. When he spotted her, she 
was leaning against a tree, her back to him, staring out at the stars and 
the moon. He approached her quietly, not wanting to disturb her solitude. 
As he came, he took note of some things. First, he noted that Cindy 
seemed to be wearing a nightgown out here. The next thing he noticed was 
how that gown flowed against her body, outlining her curves against the 
bright moonlight. Though she was small in stature, she was still 
extremely beautiful. Ron chided himself for not having taken the time to 
be with her already.

Ron moved closer to her, his mind reaching out to her first, so that she 
would not be startled when he touched her. He moved right behind her, and 
leaned against the tree with her, placing one hand on her hip, and gently 
pulling her back into him. She acquiesced immediately, letting her body 
settle back against him, his arm moving around to caress her abdomen as 
he held her against himself. They stayed that way for some time, not 
speaking, just touching.

"Why are you out here in your nightgown?" Ron finally asked.

"I do this sometimes, when I can't sleep. It helps me to feel a little 
less confined if I'm just wearing the gown."

With a mischievous grin, Ron said, "If it's freedom you want, why not go 
naked?" Without allowing her to respond, he used his extension to pull 
the gown up, and then he continued pulling it off her with his hands. 
Once it was off her body, he hung it over a branch, returning his hands 
to her now nude form. She once again sank back into him, hoping for, and
receiving, the warm caress of his hands against her skin. His fingers 
roamed until they began to caress her breasts, dancing lightly across the
hot flesh.

Cindy moaned as the pleasure of Ron's touch electrified her nervous 
system. She laid her head back against his shoulder, enjoying the 
sensations rippling across her body. Ron leaned over and pressed his 
mouth against hers, kissing her hotly. She opened her mouth to admit his 
tongue, which slid across her teeth and along the roof of her mouth. Her 
tongue pressed against his, and the sensuousness of the kiss brought 
another moan to her throat.

Ron's hand slipped off one breast, and moved down across her abdomen. 
Cindy knew what he wanted, and she moved her legs farther apart, allowing 
him access. His hand slipped between her thighs, slipping lightly across 
her pussy lips. His fingers softly brushed those outer lips aside, and 
his middle finger began to stroke against her inner lips.

Cindy was moaning constantly now. She reached up to pull Ron's face 
further down, allowing them more intimate contact. Ron's finger slipped 
slowly into her dripping cunt. He was shocked to find that her barrier 
was still intact. A virgin? At her age? He accepted this, and was even 
more intent on making the experience a pleasant one for her. He began to 
stroke his finger in and out of her more quickly, heightening her 
arousal. He had long passed the point of being ready, but his partner was
not yet there.

While his finger stroked her cunt, his other hand continued to lightly 
massage her breasts, rolling them in his fingers, and brushing over her 
nipples. Soon, Cindy was rocking against him, her passion building to a 
fever pitch. She came against his hand in a powerful orgasm, her scream 
muffled by their kiss. He continued to thrust his finger inside her until 
she had passed her peak. Slowly, he withdrew the digit, as they broke 
their kiss. He offered the finger to Cindy. After a few seconds, she 
tentatively brought her tongue to his finger, tasting her own juices for
the first time. She then sucked his finger clean. He was highly aroused
by this act, and he knew that she was ready now.

Moving quickly, and with the help of his extension, he removed all of his 
clothing. Cindy marveled at the speed with which that happened, wondering 
how he was managing to pull at four different places at once. All of that 
thought came to a halt when she beheld his cock, standing out rigid from 
his body. She longed to touch it, to caress it, to hold it; mostly she 
longed for it to be inside of her.

Ron, finished removing all of his clothing, stepped beside her. Moving 
his hands along her sides, he turned her to face the tree. "Put your 
hands on the tree," he said quietly. She had to lean over slightly to do 
so, and this gave Ron a wonderful view of her round ass, and her sopping 
wet pussy. He told her not to move, and then placed his cock at her
entrance. Before he pressed into her, he reached out with his mind, 
muting any pain she might receive from this first time. Then he pressed 
in, slowly inching his dick further into her hole. In but a few moments, 
he was pressing against her hymen. He pulled ever so slowly back out, 
until just the head of his dick remained, and then pressed back in. 
Slowly he fucked her in this way, preparing her for the thrust to come.

When he felt she was ready, he reinforced his mental block on her, and he 
slammed into her. Her barrier tore with little resistance. With the pain 
muted, she felt the pleasure, and she moaned loudly. The thrust nearly 
buried Ron's dick in her cunt, and he paused momentarily, to make sure 
she was, indeed, all right. Seeing that she was, he began moving inside 
her, pulling out slowly and thrusting back in, until his cock reached 
fully inside of her.

Reaching around her, Ron cupped her tits in his hands, rolling the 
nipples between his fingers. He continued this as he started to slowly
pump her, sliding his full length in and out of her at a slow, but 
constant, pace. Cindy couldn't take very much of this before her mind was
shattered by an overwhelming orgasm. She screamed in pleasure as her body
was wracked by the climax. Ron continued his pace throughout her peak.

Once her orgasm ebbed, Ron increased his pace, moving his hands down to 
her hips to allow him greater leverage. He used his extension to continue 
massaging her breasts, and Cindy was feeling too good to care where the 
extra sensations were coming from.

Ron's pace grew faster, pushing himself closer to orgasm. Cindy's orgasms 
were coming more quickly, so that they were almost continuous. With a 
final flurry of thrusts, Ron rammed his cock deep into her pussy, and he 
flooded her cunt with his cum, grunting out his own orgasm, as the feel 
of his cock spurting inside her sent Cindy off on yet another wild ride 
of ecstasy.

It was several minutes before either of them could catch their breath to 
speak. When it happened, it was Cindy who spoke first. Almost in a 
whisper, she said, "Thank you, Master."

Ron merely kissed her softly on the mouth, before pulling his now soft 
dick from her warm body. They dressed in silence, but Ron pulled her to 
him as they walked back into the house. They slept together that night, 
making love several more times before the night was over.

Ron awoke the next morning to find a soft and curvy body sleeping soundly 
next to him. He wanted nothing more than to lie there with her, warm and 
comfortable in bed. But he didn't have that luxury this day. Today was 
the day that America met the PPA, in its official capacity.

He rose silently from the bed, trying not to wake Cindy, and succeeding. 
Her breathing continued in its regular rhythm. Someone had taken the time 
to lay out his new uniform, and he examined it quickly for lint, 
incorrect creases, or other imperfections. Because of the material,
and the quality of manufacture, none of these things were present. He 
quickly dressed, putting on the uniform, fastening the belt, and then 
shoving his feet into his boots. The quick-lace system on them made it
easy to tie them speedily, and he was soon fully dressed, except for the
two mandatory accessories.

He slipped his aviator sunglasses into his breast pocket, and then he had 
to decide which headgear to wear. Since he was possibly going into 
combat, he decided to wear his baseball cap, rather than the more 
decorative beret. He did pick up the beret, however, and examined the PPA 
logo sewn on its front. It was extremely good craftsmanship. He looked 
himself over in the mirror, making sure everything was in its proper 
place. Then he quietly left the bedroom.

The uniform somehow transformed Ron, and he found himself marching, 
rather than walking normally. It seemed odd that an article of clothing 
could change someone into something else... Until he saw Kimberly.

The PPA uniform was intended to conform to the body, so it wouldn't catch 
on things around the wearer, but Ron had not anticipated what it might 
look like on some of the females in the army. Kimberly snapped to 
attention as he entered the room, and Ron admired how the uniform did 
indeed hug her curves. She saluted him smartly and, though he was 
surprised, he returned the gesture.

"You look very good in that uniform, Kim," Ron said by way of greeting. 
He watched her blush.

"Thank you, sir."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No sir."

"Join me?" They ate breakfast while discussing plans for how to deploy 
the troops in Philadelphia. Karen and Lars entered the kitchen during 
their discussion, both of them also dressed in official PPA garb. They 
joined the discussion, going over tactics and plans.

As the conversation was wrapping up, Ron looked at his watch. "Shit, I've 
got to get moving. Lars, you're in command. Get everyone up to Philly. If 
I don't make it there, and the battle starts... Good luck."

"Yes, sir," Lars answered, pulling himself to attention and saluting.

Ron returned the gesture, and then he excused himself from the kitchen. 
He wanted to get this meeting with the military over with. He couldn't 
handle the idea of his army starting its first battle without him. My 
army? When did I become Patton?

Commander Bob Maxton was milling around with the rest of his shipmates. 
They had been stuck at this facility for a very long time, and they were 
all tiring of it. The debriefings were becoming intolerably boring. He 
didn't know what the hell his country was waiting for. They had been 
attacked, and it was time to do something.

He found Ensign Rita Connelly standing next to him yet again. She had 
spent a lot of time near him as of late. He knew she was still shaken 
from the death of her captain.

"Why are they keeping us here, sir?"

"I don't know, Ensign."

"When will we get a new boat?"

"I don't know that, either."

"Who's that?" This last question was directed towards a man who had just
entered the room in the company of Admiral Duchain. The man was about 5'
9" tall, with black hair. He was wearing a uniform of some sort, but it
certainly wasn't US military issue. It consisted of a medium-dark gray
jumpsuit, with black cuffs, collar, and belt. The fasteners on the 
jumpsuit were a highly polished silver. He wore standard issue combat 
boots, and a black baseball cap with no insignia on it. His eyes were
hidden behind a pair of aviator-style sunglasses with black lenses and
silver frames. While his uniform bore the American flag in its proper
location, his unit patch was a mystery to Maxton. The room came to
attention as a senior chief called "Admiral on deck!"

"Stand at ease, everyone." As the room slipped into a more relaxed, yet 
fully attentive, posture, the admiral continued. "I know that many of you 
have been questioning why you have been kept here. Many of you have 
submitted transfer requests via the appropriate channels. Today, you find 
out why none of that has been given consideration up to this point. To my 
left is General Ronald Chaffey, commanding officer of the Provisional 
Psionic Army of the United States of America. He will explain to you what
is going on. General?"

Ron stepped forward, still getting used to the title, and more than ever 
feeling the weight of the five stars glistening on each shoulder epaulet. 
He faced before him a crowd of thousands of people. While the admiral had 
used a public address system, Ron refused its use, instead enhancing his 
speech mentally, making sure that everyone heard him clearly.

"Ladies and gentleman of the United States Navy, you are still here 
because you have suffered at the hands of an enemy. This enemy is not, as 
you may believe, the Russian government. Nor is it even the Russian 
people. You have suffered at the hands of an organization within Russia, 
but not sanctioned by her leaders. This organization calls itself the 
Filitov Council. They are the counterpart to the Provisional Psionic 
Army, except that the PPA has the support of its government, and we are
almost certain that the Filitov Council does not.

"You have not been given new assignments in order that we could speak to 
you directly. I know that it might seem unusual for your government not 
to put you back on the front lines immediately, but believe me, the 
attacks you faced in the past were mere warm-up exercises for the 
psionics you faced. No weapon yet produced by mankind can stand against a
strong psionic. At least, none we've found.

"What I am going to do at this time is simply to walk among you. We are 
seeking psionics, both latent and active. If you are a psionic, you 
should step forward now. You have chosen to serve your country, and this 
is the best way you can do so. It is time to put your Ability to use.
Some of you may be psionics, and not know it. We don't really know why
some people develop their Ability sooner in life than others. However, we
do know that there is a good chance that there is at least one psionic in
this room.

"While your Congress has yet to decide, the PPA considers this country to 
be 'at war'. I will behave as if that is true. It would be best if you 
did as well. That is all I have to say at this time. Thank you for your 
time and attention." There were many murmurs among the group.

"Sir, what's he talking about?"

"I think he's one of those people the President told us about a couple 
weeks ago. Shit, I thought it was all bullshit."

Ron took his time wandering through the crowd. Finding a psionic that 
wanted to be hidden was hard, but he didn't really suspect that there 
were any of those in this crowd. But he knew there was a psionic here 
somewhere. He found two weaker psionics before he found the one he was
after.

"Your name?"

"Maxton, Robert L., Commander, USN."

"What, no serial number?" Ron said with a laugh. Commander Maxton turned 
beet red. "Commander, you were second in command to Captain Charles 
Farraday, were you not?"

"Yes, sir, I was."

"You were with him that day."

"I was in the area, sir. I did not see him die."

"No. But he saw you. He gave you something."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Unfortunately, Maxton had 
already figured out that Farraday had been a psionic, and he'd feared 
that the jolt he'd felt that day was some kind of new power in his own 
mind.

"Yes, you do. You don't have the skills to hide it from me, yet. 
Commander, you'll be reassigned to the Psionic Corps."

"No!" Rita cried, unwillingly, and completely outside of protocol. Her 
outburst was so unusual that Ron scanned her quickly. Interesting.

"Ensign Connelly will accompany you as... your assistant." One does not 
question the orders of a superior officer, even if he is from a 
different, and seemingly non-federalized, branch of the military. 
Commander Maxton and Ensign Connelly both snapped to attention and 
replied, "Aye aye, sir!"

As Ron moved along, Rita turned to her superior and asked, "Sir, what's 
he talking about?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Since we're going to be spending a lot of 
time together, I guess we should get to know each other some. Want some 
coffee?"

"Yes, sir."

Ron spent a great deal of time talking to the people in that facility, 
and two others just like it. By the time he had finished, it was well 
into the afternoon. He had to meet briefly with the President, during 
which time he was forced to keep himself from berating the man for his
previous stupidity. By the time that meeting ended, it was a little too
late.

Lars had a hell of a time trying to organize everyone for the move. The 
appearance of the news crew didn't help one bit. She was stopped by one 
of the troops, but her insistence meant that she was brought to Lars.

"Where is General Chaffey?" she insisted.

"He's not here right now. I am..." Lars faltered, very uncomfortable with 
the new protocol he had to learn. "I am Colonel Lars Ohlin, second in 
command." The single eagle on each shoulder proclaimed that as well.

"Look, Colonel, I was assured that I would be allowed access!"

Lars sighed. He didn't need this just now. He looked around briefly, and 
found the person he sought. "Major!" he called. A young woman trotted 
over to him, and saluted properly. "Yes, sir!" she replied.

"Major Heinlein, this is Melissa Conway. She is to be our... 'war 
correspondent'. I am making her your responsibility. If she gets hurt, 
you will answer to the General. Miss Conway, Major Kara Heinlein."

Melissa watched the young girl's face go slightly pale. "Yes, sir!" the 
girl answered. Turning to Melissa, she said, "Follow me, ma'am." Lars 
watched them go before returning to his work, arranging boxes and 
packages for movement. He didn't know what he would need for the battle, 
and so they had to take everything.

A hundred yards away, Melissa was already interviewing her guide. "You 
seem to be afraid of the General. Is he that heavy-handed?"

"I'm not afraid of the General, ma'am. I'm afraid of disappointing him. 
Look, I was trained by a small organization in Wyoming. I heard about Ron 
through a friend of a friend. I've seen what he's capable of. I know he 
doesn't want to be here. Look, he's younger than I am, and yet he's got 
to take on all this responsibility. Why? Because he can, and the rest of 
us... well, we're not up to it without him. Afraid of him, ma'am? No. I'm 
afraid for him."

It was mid-afternoon by the time the teams moved out. There were now more 
than two thousand troops in the PPA, and the numbers continued to grow. 
The plan for this battle called for six hundred of them. Ron had hopes 
that this would be sufficient numbers, but he couldn't commit all his 
troops to a single battle, lest something go horribly wrong. Someone had
to remain behind to continue fighting, just in case.

Melissa and her cameraman were dumbfounded by the trip, which took place
without the benefit of vehicles. Kara was responsible for keeping them
safe, and so she was also responsible for transporting them to the 
target.

"How fast are we traveling?" Melissa shouted unnecessarily.

"Beats me, ma'am. However fast that guy up front goes, that's how fast we 
go."

"Could you please call me Mel?" she asked.

Kara laughed. "Sure thing. Sorry, but this military stuff is really quick 
to become a habit. Everyone calls me Kara." The cameraman introduced 
himself as Rick, but didn't say much on the flight.

"How long to Philadelphia?" Mel asked.

"Plan calls for five hours. We left an hour early, so we should be there 
around seven or so."

"Okay. You getting good footage, Rick?" He nodded, still a little dazed 
at flying a thousand feet above the landscape without the aid of an 
airplane or helicopter.

The flight was boring. The arrival was typical, and their welcome was 
less than warm. Miss Conway's coverage of their journey had been 
broadcast, and there were several groups protesting their presence. Lars 
ignored them as he moved to City Hall, which they had decided would make 
the best command post. The mayor of the city greeted them, and gave them 
free run of the building, but he told them he wasn't about to stick 
around for whatever was coming.

"Smart man," Lars said to Karen, who had remained at his side throughout 
the flight. She nodded in return. He could tell, even without their 
special bond, that she was terrified about what was coming. He grasped 
her hand and squeezed, letting her know that he was there for her. She 
smiled back at him, silently thanking him for the support.

"You might want to stay outside the city proper, Mel. It'll give you 
better angles when the shooting starts, and it will keep you safe."

"Kara, I'm a war reporter. I'm supposed to get shot at!" Kara thought 
that was foolish and asinine behavior, and she could see that Rick wasn't 
too keen on the idea, either. It was not, however, Kara's place to tell 
the lady what to do. She moved them in, setting down on a tall building 
as close to the edge of town as she could.

"This is as far in as you're going, Mel. It's my ass if you get killed in 
the first battle."

"Okay, okay. I guess this'll do."

The troops took very little time to assume their positions, as the battle 
plans called for. Everyone was ready. Now, it was time to wait. It was 
eight PM.

Ron finally wrapped up all of his business in Washington, having placated 
all of the military people and receiving their support for his plans for 
Philadelphia. Not that it mattered, but it was nice to have them behind 
him rather than against him.

They'd found a total of seven psionics among the thirteen thousand 
people. He wondered whether that ratio was normal, high, or low, but had 
no way of knowing. Those people were sent to the Psionic Corps, a new 
branch of the military forming up that would eventually replace the PPA. 
Ron wished they'd hurry up about it, so someone else could be in charge.

Finishing up his final discussion, he left Washington for Philadelphia. 
It would take him a mere thirty minutes to get there. It was eight-thirty 
PM.

<All troops maintain EMCON. Lookouts may use telepathy to communicate, no 
one else.> Lars borrowed one of the phrases he had learned in the last 
month. EMCON, or Emissions Control, normally refers to keeping electronic 
devices on warships turned off. However, it applied well to the idea of 
hiding psionic ability. Kara nodded at the message, but said nothing. Mel 
was standing beside her.

"What are you nodding at?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Just receiving a message from the Colonel. Everything's 
normal so far."

"Oh." Melissa walked off, mumbling to herself about magic. She went to 
help Rick change his camera over to night-vision.

It was eight-forty PM, on July 27. The PPA had been settled in for less 
than an hour. Though they had been warned that they might have to wait 
days for this battle, that was not to be.

The first lookouts to call a warning were on the eastern edge of town. 
Their telepathic calls went out, briefly, and at high power. The Russians 
would certainly know that there were greeters in this city now. It was a 
surprise, however, when the first attack wave came from the south. 
Russian psionics had driven into the city, and had made their first 
assault completely unannounced. A dozen PPA soldiers were down in the 
first seconds of the battle.

Telepathic calls were flying through the mental ether, as soldiers tried 
to coordinate, tried to piece together what was going on. Ron's battle 
plan was good, but he was an inexperienced strategist, and there were 
many holes that hadn't been covered. The Russians used every one of them.

Melissa was directing Rick, making sure they got as much of the action 
around them as they could. Kara stood beside them, frustrated at not 
getting into the battle. She could see the fight going on below her. As 
she watched, a PPA soldier went down. Was he a friend, or a stranger? 
 From here she couldn't tell. She did see the Russian maggot who had 
killed him. She focused her energy, and blasted him with all her might. 
The Russian flew back against a building, and fell to the ground, 
actually leaving an impression in the concrete structure.

Mel gave her a thumbs-up, letting her know they'd gotten the footage. 
Kara could not have cared less.

Kim huddled against a building, waiting for a Russian to show himself. 
She briefly thought, What a way to spend my seventeenth birthday. Then, 
she caught a glimpse of someone about to fire at her. Just in time, she 
rolled out of the way. As the plan called for, she flew down the street, 
heading west. The Russian followed her, right on her tail. She maneuvered 
left and right, dodging parked cars and his shots at her. Where is it, 
where is it... My God, what if I miss it? No, THERE! She turned a corner 
sharply and dodged behind a van.

The Russian turned the corner, and was immediately annihilated by four 
Hunters. The plan had worked flawlessly. Kimberly slumped against the 
van, letting her heart rate drop back below a thousand, or so it felt. 
She had faced her first test, and passed.

Jeffrey stood amidst his small unit, directing them telepathically. He 
felt the tug at his mind that told him someone was trying to sneak up 
behind him. He whirled just in time to avoid the attack, flashing a 
psionic burst back at the enemy, gratified to see him flung to the 
ground, unmoving.

He had no time to rejoice, however, as another attacker came at him out 
of a shadow, and he had to dodge a physical attack. He swung himself 
around, using his extension to continue the man's momentum, slamming him 
head-first into a building, crushing his skull.

Kara could see it all from her perch, and she could see that many people 
were dying below her. There, a small building was crumbling, a psionic 
attack that missed. Over there, all the windows in an office building 
were shattered, from some unknown cause. She was so intent on the battle 
that she almost did not hear the two coming up the other side of the 
building.

Mel's gasp of surprise came just in time, and Kara didn't even bother to 
turn. Her kinetic shield went up around all three of them just in time, 
the attack washing over them. She turned, and Mel could have sworn there 
was fire in her eyes. Her hands stretched forward, her fingers splayed, 
Kara released a ball of venomous energy at the first attacker, burning 
him to cinder as he screamed. She turned on the second attacker, but he 
had already fled down the side of the building. She dropped her shields 
down to their usual level to conserve power, but would remember from now 
on that, unlike the people she was escorting, she was not a spectator to 
this fight.

Lars and Karen were assembled with several others, in the City Hall, 
trying to coordinate the battle. This was turning out to be impossible, 
as none of the soldiers were really familiar with the terrain. Asking 
someone where he is becomes a challenge when all the street signs are 
being knocked over by missed shots.

<<What's going on, Lars?>> Karen asked.

<<Damned if I know, honey. God I wish Ron were here.>>

Ron was well on his way, but was not even in sight of Philadelphia. He 
could, however, feel the pulsing energy coming from the area. He 
endeavored to increase his speed.

Jeffrey was stunned, as he saw more of his men fall. He dodged another 
attack, and returned fire, but yet one more of his men fell from the sky, 
killed by Russian psionic fire. He felt an area of urgency, and raced 
down an alley, over a fence, coming out onto a wide boulevard. He saw 
many shops, and then he saw some teens in black garb running away from 
something, very fast. Two Russians came out of a store front, having 
busted out the glass already. They hadn't yet seen him when he went into 
a crouch and blasted at them. They both rolled out of the way of the 
attack, and fired back. He was almost singed by one of them, but managed 
to roll clear. He was about to fire back when he noticed both Russians 
were being held up off the ground, upside-down, and then they were 
slammed down into the asphalt so hard that their bodies actually 
penetrated. The limp bodies slumped over, still sticking from the 
roadway. He looked up to see two of his friends waving. He saluted back, 
before hustling to find more bastards to kill.

"Rick, this way, this way!" Mel grabbed his shoulder and pointed. Kara 
looked as well, seeing that a larger collection of troops had massed near 
the waterfront. The sickening part is that there were nearly twice as 
many Russians as PPA soldiers in the fight.

<Major battle near Penn's Landing!> she cried out telepathically. She 
could feel the confusion as many soldiers tried to remember what the hell 
Penn's Landing was. Soon, several PPA troops were moving that way, but 
not fast enough, Kara could see. She was, unfortunately, too far away to 
affect the battle. She could but watch as good Americans were fighting, 
and dying, at the hands of barbarians.

My God, how heavily outnumbered are we? she thought, seeing that the men 
at the waterfront were falling rapidly to greater numbers. The battle was 
soon over, all of the men having been killed. She sent out a warning to 
those soldiers heading that way. Many lives were spared because of that 
act, but she would never believe it.

Kimberly was leading her band silently down an alley towards Broad 
Street. As she peeked her head around a corner, she nearly had it blasted 
off by a shot that was not even intended for her. It pulverized the 
corner of the building she was hiding behind, and they had no choice but 
to run out into the street as the building, which had absorbed dozens of 
blows already, collapsed into the alleyway, unable to withstand the 
strain of one more heavy blow. They'd make an effective demolitions team, 
she thought to herself wryly.

She and her team scampered across the street, trying to stay in shadows, 
moving silently, attacking when they saw an opportunity. Everywhere the 
Russians fought in teams of twenty and thirty people, moving swiftly and 
crushing whatever opposition was in their path. They took down two, 
before the rest of that crew saw them, and they had to retreat to safety. 
She'd already lost four men and one girl from her team. The losses hadn't 
sunk in yet, but she was even now starting to feel the grief that would 
only intensify after this night was over.

She cringed as a blast from the sky vaporized the boy standing next to 
her. She flew away from it, not embarrassed to be running for her life. 
She stopped behind a delivery truck, overturned in the street, whether by 
gangs or psionics, she neither knew nor cared. The battle raged around 
her, and she realized that her team had scattered. She was alone.

Lars and Karen had just about given up on trying to hold the battle plan 
together. They were outnumbered, and outmaneuvered. Ron's plan, as good 
as it had been, could not stand up to these numbers. No one had 
anticipated what appeared to be eight hundred to a thousand Russians 
attacking the city. Ron could not be blamed for this.

<<He'll blame himself,>> Karen told her love.

<<Yes, he will. I only hope we're alive to tell him otherwise.>> Just 
then, it was as if a strong wind arose from nowhere. The Russians had 
discovered the headquarters of the PPA's field command. Forty psionics 
were blasting the solid stone structure. The first thing to go was the 
statue of William Penn, perched four stories up. It fell, clanging 
against the building, into the courtyard where they had set up shop. 
Everyone dodged it, as it smashed into the ground. There was no time to 
be concerned for the statue, however, as it was clear that the building 
itself was still being assaulted.

"Get out!" Lars screamed, but it was far too late for that. The central 
tower of the city hall collapsed under the force of the assault, and came 
toppling down on them. The rest of the building soon followed.

Jeffrey was doing well, he had managed to put together a small squad, and 
they had fought well. Their numbers were dwindling slowly, however, and 
now there were but three of them left. They raced down a street littered 
with rubble, from the wrecked buildings on both sides. They were heading 
towards the Schuykill River, where it had been reported that a new large 
battle was going on. Suddenly, from above them and slightly behind, an 
attack came without warning. So much psionic energy was blasting through 
the air that trying to keep track of the surroundings had been reduced to 
visual contact. The two people with Jeffrey were caught by the blast, one 
instantly pulverized, and the other decapitated. He turned and loosed a 
wild blast in the direction of the enemy, but it was easily dodged.

Soon, his attacker was joined by three other psionics. They began a rapid 
fire sequence of assaults on him. He blessed the training Ron had given 
him, as he managed to bat aside most of the attacks, and dodged the rest. 
He even volleyed off a few shots of his own, but they had little effect, 
as he couldn't control them properly under the circumstances.

He knew they were trying to surround him, and he was keeping his back to 
a wall to prevent them from just such a tactic. However, this wasn't a 
minor skirmish, and the rules of war were far different. Seeing what he 
was doing, two of the Russians blasted the wall behind him, causing it to 
cave in. Jeffrey saw it just in time, and almost avoided the collapse. He 
was caught by a mass of flying debris, and was knocked unconscious, half-
buried under a pile of loose brick and stone.

Ron was aware of the fear and the tension. He was almost there. He wanted 
to cry out, Hang on! But he knew the words were meaningless to people 
fighting, and dying, for him. Ron increased his pace, following the 
Delaware river. He was leaving a rooster-tail of wake, even though he was 
thirty feet above the surface of the river. The speed at which he was 
traveling was horridly dangerous, and if he tried to stop too fast, the 
inertial effect alone would kill him. There! The city loomed just ahead. 
Just a couple more minutes...

Kara's hands were balled into fists, her heart pounding in her chest. She 
couldn't stand to watch the battle below her. She knew, even as she 
longed to be down there, that it was quite possible that her current 
assignment had saved her life, at least for one night. She didn't hear 
the new attack.

Suddenly, the building beneath her rumbled, and started tilting 
dangerously. Melissa and Rick were thrown off their feet, and, because 
they were standing right at the edge, off the building. Kara swore as she 
saw them and, regaining her own footing, managed to slip herself off the 
building, flying herself down toward them. She had just managed to get 
them to safety, when an energy blast caught her with a glancing blow. 
That shoved her into the falling building, which she bounced off, and was 
thrown roughly to the ground, twenty feet below. In her semi-conscious 
state, she was able to cushion her landing, but she was still knocked 
cold from the impact.

Melissa and Rick rushed to her side, checking to see that, yes, she was 
breathing. Then they had to worry about how to get out of here, how to 
get help for the lady who had saved their lives more than once that 
night.

"Mel, I don't know about you, but I'm asking for a raise," Rick said, 
doing his best to lighten the mood. Mel laughed softly. Then they dragged 
Kara into a shadowy spot, and hunkered down. The battle was all around 
them now, and Rick was getting great footage, even without the aerie to 
shoot it from.

Kimberly had moved towards the waterfront, not knowing that there were 
roving bands of Russians running up and down the Delaware river banks, 
looking for escaping PPA soldiers. She moved out onto open ground near 
one of the docks, and was spotted almost immediately. The training she'd 
had over the past few weeks paid off, as she immediately dove into the 
river to avoid several blasts that passed well over her head. Soon, the 
enemy was firing into the River, but the darkness, and the lack of 
clarity in the water, made it difficult to hit her. She came up several 
hundred yards downstream, but that was a mistake.

Unknown to her, there was yet another group of psionics here, that was 
also looking for escapees. These Russians saw her, and struck her with a 
blow that shoved her back into the water. She summoned her strength, and 
lunged out of the water, flipping herself over their heads, and landing 
fifty feet from them, to their backs. It didn't take them long to turn 
around, but she took two of them down as they were turning.

Soon it was clear, though, that she had no chance. She started to run, 
only to notice that the two groups had now merged, and her escape route 
was basically cut off. She raised her shields as the blast wave came. Her 
knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, still holding her shields, but 
she could feel them weakening. The energy washing over her was actually 
causing a physical buzz in the air, which is why she didn't hear the roar 
of wind.

Coming up the river, Ron caught sight of the battle. Twenty to one odds 
were something that he didn't want to face. He didn't yet recognize the 
girl, for it was obviously a female, who was stuck in such a trap, but he 
knew she was one of his soldiers.

He had decreased to maneuvering speed, but now he actually sped up 
slightly. As he got closer, he recognized his friend, Kim, as the one 
being threatened. That only made him angrier. He decided that he had to 
act fast, and that it would require a maneuver he had practiced, but had 
never used in combat. He dove for the scene. Some of the Russians did, in 
fact, hear the sound of rushing wind, but it is very hard to react to an 
object moving at over one hundred miles an hour.

Ron flew down and around Kim in a tight circle, halfway between her and 
her attackers. He was spinning so fast that he was but a blur. He trailed 
his mental energy behind him, and, to a psionic, it looked as if a giant 
glowing ring had formed around her. The ring grew brighter in their 
minds. It also appeared to grow larger.

Ron widened his circle with each pass, increasing his speed slightly as 
he did so. His kinetic shield was at maximum strength, and he continued 
pushing outward. The Russians, either disbelieving what they saw or 
simply not able to interpret the threat, stood immobile, watching their
doom coming. The first one that was hit had his head twisted in a full 
circle, while his body stood still. The second one was decapitated before
the first began to fall. Only the last few had a chance to escape, and
they took it, fleeing the angry wrath of what looked to them for all the
world like a hell of a big fairy.

Ron stopped his circling as they retreated, keeping his shields up, but 
not at full strength. He approached Kim, who had not yet looked up, 
fearing for her life. He reached through what was left of her kinetic 
shield, and he realized that he had, in fact, arrived in the very nick of 
time. He pulled her up to her feet, and she embraced him, as a matter of
instinct. She held onto him as a drowning man grasps a lifeline. She wept
against his chest, and he stood there, holding onto his lieutenant-
colonel, letting her release her fear in the only way he knew how.

While he was holding her, he took stock of the battlefield. His mind 
roamed down streets and alleys, taking a look at the devastation. He took 
tally of the number of his people alive and dead. He made his decision 
then.

<PPA! This is your commander. Retreat!> The call went out at full blast, 
and yet Kim didn't even flinch, so deep was the terror she had been 
through. He noted that troops were cut down even as they fled the 
battlefield. He made sure that wounded were collected, but the dead...
would remain in Philadelphia.

His mind wandered to where their command center had been, and he was 
shocked to see a pile of rubble. Gently, he lifted Kim, and flew them 
both to the City Hall. Kim was finally coming to, and she cried out in 
shock and anguish to see what was left of the building. Ron released her 
then, because his hands were beginning to ball into fists, and he didn't 
want to hurt her. It was then that he heard the voices.

They came to his mind, not to his ears. And if they were that faint, they 
were either far away, or very weak. He knew, instinctively, that they 
were coming from beneath that pile of rock.

<Kim, carefully, clear away the building. There are people under there.> 
Together, they worked. It took them twenty minutes to clear away enough 
of the debris. They finally pulled Lars and Karen from a small bubble of 
space, no bigger than the two of them plus a few inches all the way 
around.

"Any others?" Ron had to ask. Karen shook her head and sobbed, as Lars 
continued to explain.

"They took the building down too quickly. When it began to topple... I 
had all I could do to save us. I couldn't save the rest. I am sorry, 
Ron."

"You did what you could. Let's go home."

The Provisional Psionic Army of the United States of America had entered 
Philadelphia with six hundred soldiers. They were leaving with little 
more than three hundred. That there were also two hundred plus dead 
Russians was not a consolation. Many of the remaining three hundred were 
wounded, and would take quite a while to heal. He could see that there 
were even wounded carrying wounded, and that was very unpleasant to 
behold.

The PPA had faced its first trial by fire. The PPA had failed. Ron was 
very quiet on the trip back home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Trouble is a constant companion

Almost worse than the humiliation and dishonor caused by the
defeat was the interview that Ron had to sit through the next day. He had
promised Melissa that he would make himself available after the battle, 
and he would not go back on his word simply because he'd made an ass of
himself.

"So, General, what went wrong at yesterday's battle?"

"Well, basically, Melissa, I screwed up. I was responsible for 
yesterday's battle plan. I did not foresee some of the tactics that the 
Russians would use against us."

"I see." She had to ask the next question, and she hated it, because she 
had begun to like the man. "How many lives did yesterday's battle cost 
you?"

Ron's face darkened as he fought the emotional content of that question. 
He managed to get it under control without much of an outward display. He 
shifted himself slightly in his chair as he said, "We lost two hundred 
and seventy-seven brave people last night, Melissa."

"What are you going to tell their families?"

"I've already spoken to their families. I told them why the mission was 
important. I told them how their sons and daughters, spouses and parents, 
fought bravely and died for their country. I told them all of the same 
crap that commanding officers have probably been telling families for 
hundreds of years." That he had never expected to have to be the one to 
tell them was not something he wanted to say on the air.

Melissa was glad to have this phase of the interview over. She hadn't 
really wanted to bring it up, but her producer would have had a fit if 
she hadn't. "So, General, where do we go from here?"

"Well, first thing is to learn from last night's mistakes. We'll study 
our battle plan, and see what went wrong, and what went right. Then we'll 
work out new tactics to counter that. It's the way war is waged: you make 
mistakes, you pick up the pieces, and you learn. Unfortunately, in the 
process of learning, some people are, unfortunately, lost to those 
mistakes. I have to live with that now."

"Where do you think the Russians will strike next?"

"We have some information about that, but I can't reveal it here, as that 
would compromise our sources. No city is safe while these bastards are 
running loose in our country."

Melissa continued her interview, moving from question to question, glad 
to have the hard part over, and hoping Ron would understand the necessity 
of having had to ask those questions. She could not know that Ron had 
been asking himself those questions all night long, and would continue to 
ask them for some time to come.

Kimberly, Lars and Karen watched the interview from behind the camera, 
which was set up in the study of Ron's house. Lars watched impassively, 
simply observing the process. Karen was still shocked and saddened by 
last night's events. Both of them took an interest in Kim's reaction to 
the interviewer's questions. When he was asked about casualty numbers, 
and in essence blamed for them, Kim's hands balled into fists so tight 
that her knuckles were white. Her mouth set in a distinctive frown, and 
her eyes intensified to the point of almost glowing.

<Doesn't she know that he couldn't have helped this?> Kim demanded of the 
others.

<She's only doing her job, Kim. As Ron was doing his last night, and is 
continuing to do it now, by answering her questions calmly,> Lars 
answered.

<But, dammit, it's not fair! Ron did everything he could, and...> The 
other two could see she was close to tears on the matter. Karen reached 
over and placed a caring hand on her forearm.

<No, it's not fair, Kim. But this is how life is. Ron understands that. 
He already blames himself for last night. Anything that reporter might 
say will add little to that.>

<But it wasn't his fault!> Kimberly nearly shouted in her thoughts. Lars 
and Karen shared a look, and a thought.

<No, Kimmy, it wasn't his fault. And it is our job to convince him of 
that, and to help him through this. Do you understand?> Kimberly looked 
at him, thinking it through. How can I help him, when I myself still have 
such doubts? We all depended on his strength too much. We pushed him too 
hard.

<This was our fault,> she told Lars and Karen. They simply nodded back at 
her. There was enough blame to go around for this day.

The day's ugliness was not over simply because Melissa and Rick had 
packed their gear. Ron forced himself to visit the injured. To stop and 
speak, however briefly, to each and every last person that had fallen 
last night. He shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at Jeffrey, 
lying in bed, bandaged. He would heal, but it would take time. Even Ron's 
healing energies couldn't correct the myriad of problems around him in 
anything less than several weeks.

"Looks like you zigged when you should have zagged, Jeff," Ron said, 
trying to brighten his friend's mood. Jeff started to laugh, but the pain 
that caused made him cough instead.

"Oh, shit. Yeah... well, I got my bag limit last night, I guess."

"How many?" Ron asked, knowing the man needed a chance to brag, just a 
little.

"I lost count after six, but I think it was around ten or twelve."

"Good work. We figure they lost around two hundred twenty troops. Not 
quite as many as us, but we'll do better next time."

"Hope I'm up for it, sir," Jeffrey answered, trying to lie straighter in 
the bed.

"You just worry about getting healed, Jeff. Take it easy." With that, Ron 
moved on. The hospital staff admired Ron for the effort. Nothing helped 
healing more than knowing that the person you fought for actually gave a 
damn. They could also see the pain that this visit caused their 
commander, and they worried about that. But it wasn't their place to deal 
with it.

It was three days later when the post-action scout arrived at PPA 
headquarters. He was exhausted, bedraggled, and tired, and Ron ordered 
him off to be checked, and to rest. The information could almost 
certainly wait until the next day.

When the man was fully rested, he reported to Ron's office. Kim, Lars, 
Karen, and Shelley were present. Cindy came in with refreshments for 
everyone, and he motioned her to stay. She stood behind him, right next 
to Kim. They both shared a look, and a brief smile, at their similarity 
of position.

"Okay, Tom. Tell us what you saw," Ron ordered.

Sergeant Tom Crystal was twenty-two years old, just out of college with a 
Computer Information Systems degree. His longish blonde hair fell into 
his eyes, and he flipped it back, trying to stand straight, but his 
injuries and his weariness prevented him from doing a proper job. Ron 
motioned him to a chair, and he gratefully slumped into it. His long legs 
stretched out in front of him, and his hands folded in his lap. Everyone 
in the room waited patiently for him to speak.

"Sir, the stuff they did... I'm not even sure if I can describe it out 
loud." Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn't sure he wanted to do 
what he was thinking about, but it was the best, fastest, and most 
accurate way to get the information.

"Broadcast it to us, then."

"Yes, sir." And so the terror began...

.... He was hiding amid the rubble, trying to keep as much to himself as 
possible. Two Russians had already presumed him dead, and passed him by, 
so he figured his little trick of playing dead, lowering his heart rate 
and stopping his breathing for long periods of time, worked. It allowed 
him to observe the aftermath, without being in too much danger.

What he saw turned his blood cold. They were rounding up the remaining 
citizens of Philadelphia. Most of the people had, intelligently, left the 
city. Many had not. There were people of every age and race and social 
status. They were all being roughly moved to the waterfront. Tom had to 
assume this was simply because there was enough open space there. There 
were several thousand people left in the city.

He had to follow, as that was where all of the Russians were moving, as 
well. He kept to the shadows, masking his psionic powers, not using them 
at all, as he moved silently behind the last Russians, marching east 
towards the Delaware River. He watched as people who slowed too much were 
prodded, and whipped by one psionic's extension. He was driving them like 
cattle towards the slaughter, and Tom only hoped that wasn't what he was 
about to witness.

Once all the people had been driven to the water's edge, she appeared. 
Tom knew her only as Zinaida, as he was not aware of her history with 
Ron. She arrived from the sky, dressed in a black, tight-fitting outfit. 
Her auburn hair rested against her shoulders, and her eyes burned like 
fire. She walked up to the nearest man, a man of importance from the way 
the crowd deferred to him. She spoke to him softly, words that Tom could 
not hear. The man nodded to her politely, deferentially. He sought no 
trouble from her, he was giving her everything she wanted. It mattered 
not at all.

Zinaida's hands flew over the man's body, striking him in a dozen places. 
Even from his post two hundred yards away, Tom could hear the bones 
snapping. The man cried out in agony as he collapsed to the ground. A 
woman, standing next to the man, stood up to Zinaida in defiance. 
Probably his wife, Tom thought. Zinaida stoically absorbed the woman's 
tirade for about ten seconds, then reached over and snapped the woman's 
head around so that she could see behind her, before she fell to the 
ground, dead. Tom nearly gasped, but caught himself. There were three 
guards not ten yards from him, and he would have absolutely no chance of
escape at this juncture.

"Bring it to me!" Zinaida bellowed, and four psionics, low on the totem 
pole to be given such a menial job, carried out an object that Tom did 
not immediately recognize. When he finally realized what it was, his 
blood boiled. Those bastards! The object in question was the Liberty 
Bell, taken from its pavilion across the street from Independence Hall.

Zinaida ran her hands over the metal of the bell, feeling its texture, 
letting her hands trace the words. She read the inscription on the bell, 
and laughed.

"This country will have no liberty! We shall rule with an iron fist!" And 
with that, her energy poured into the bell, and it shattered into dozens 
of pieces, the shrapnel flying into the crowd, killing eight people 
instantly, so strong was the blast.

Zinaida turned to her troops, and, in a very American way, said, "Party 
time!" What followed turned Tom's stomach. The revelry and carousal that 
followed sickened him. The women and men of Philadelphia were being used, 
as if they were nothing more than mere toys for the amusement of the 
Russian soldiers. Soldiers? These aren't soldiers. These are animals!

He saw one man who was using his extension to fuck three women - and one 
man - all at the same time. Others were doing depraved things to small 
children. Most of them were killing their victims when they had finished 
with them. Zinaida sat above it all, watching, but not participating. She 
bore a serene smile on her face, as if it was all a pleasure to her. Tom 
slipped away as quietly as he could...

.... "And that's what happened afterward, sir," Tom said, shuddering at 
the memory of it. Cindy thought she was going to be sick. Kimberly was 
shocked at the depth of their depravity. The rest were likewise upset. 
Ron, however, was pissed.

Shelly managed to ask, "How did you get injured? And what took you three 
days to get back here?"

"On the way back I ran into a small unit of Russians. I managed to dodge 
and hide until they gave up looking for me, but it was a hell of a 
struggle."

As Ron sat subdued, Lars did something he should not have done. He knew 
it at the time, and did it anyway. "You watched all that, and did nothing 
to help those people?"

"What would you have liked me to do, Colonel? It was one on, oh, about 
eight hundred or so!"

Ron let that argument funnel into his consciousness, and his anger grew. 
"Please stop," he said, almost in a whisper. The only people who heard 
him were Kim and Shelly. The argument continued. He repeated himself only 
slightly louder, this time Cindy heard him, and Karen. They all knew 
there was trouble coming, but they couldn't stop these two who had, for 
some completely unknown reason, locked into a terminal battle of words. 
Ron had all he could take.

"Shut the fuck up!" he bellowed. Everyone in the room actually took a 
step backwards as his rage surged over their bodies, actually tangible in 
form. The room was filled with silence, the two arguers ghostly white. "I 
don't need this kind of goddamned bickering in the ranks!" Ron's fury was 
evident, his eyes were wild. "We have enough problems without being at 
each other's throats. Colonel," Ron said vehemently, using the title for 
a reason, "You should fucking well know better! That soldier did exactly 
as he was trained to do. BY YOU! Now, because you don't like the sights 
and sounds of it, you're going to chew him out for it? I don't think so!" 
Tom was not off the hook, however. "And you, Sergeant, should know better 
than to argue with a superior officer, even if he is acting like an ass! 
All of you, out of here, now!"

As Ron slammed himself back into his seat, fuming, the people fairly flew 
from the room, not wanting to be anywhere near that kind of anger. 
Especially when he happened to be right. Tom and Lars spoke briefly to 
each other, apologizing profusely. When they were finished, Karen walked 
up to Lars, her own anger brewing.

<<What in the hell did you think you were doing?>> she demanded.

Lars looked at her with shame on his face. <<I really... don't know what 
came over me. I've never done that to a trooper before. Even Hunters 
who've come back with stories like that... I've never berated them for 
slipping away. I guess... I've never had to see it before, Karen.>>

<<Oh, great. Do you have any idea what just really happened in there? Ron 
didn't need this. Are you out of your fucking mind? Now he has to worry 
about you, too! Look, I love you, and nothing is going to change that, 
but if you don't get your goddamned head screwed on straight, I'll kick 
your fucking ass myself!>> As she stormed away, her fury radiating off in 
all directions, he had no doubt she could do it.

For the next three weeks, Ron and the PPA spent their time planning, 
training, and healing. Not all of their troops were yet up to the tasks 
ahead, some were still in the hospital ward. However, there had been 
several Russian attacks since Philadelphia, and other, smaller psionic 
groups were being wiped out. Ron felt the PPA needed to do something. He 
called together his leaders.

Looking around, he studied each one's eyes. There was Kim, his self-
appointed assistant, looking to him for courage. Lars, his second in 
command, looking to him for leadership. Karen looked to him for strength. 
Maj. Robert Winters, acting in Jeffrey's stead, looked to him for 
guidance. The only eyes he felt comfortable with were those of Lt. Shelly 
Saunders. All she sought from him were instructions.

"Okay, our numbers are nearly at three thousand now, even after the 
battle in Philadelphia." The pause in his speech before he said "battle" 
was barely noticeable anymore. "It's time we spread out, start looking 
for the Russians. We know that they normally travel in smaller groups, 
and then seem to come together for the really big attacks. Philadelphia 
was one of those. Seattle was another, and we missed that one altogether. 
We've got to have better intel." Before the eyes could turn in Robert's 
direction, Ron said, "That's not the fault of Major Winters. His crew is 
doing what they can, but we've got to be out there, not in here. So, here 
is what I want to do. We are going to form up 30 teams, each of one 
hundred person strength. One of those teams will always be here at the 
house as a guard force. The rest, I want roaming the country, looking for 
those bastards."

No one questioned Ron's plan so far. Kim had a question, however. "Ron, 
how do we assign leaders?"

"Go down the ranks. Start with the majors. If that's not enough, promote 
some captains to major rank. The lieutenant colonels will stay here with 
the headquarters unit, analyzing the information. When a major battle is 
coming up, we'll send one or two out to lead the fight. We can win this, 
guys, but we've got to play it smart. My first plan was downright stupid. 
This time, we do it right." The discussion was interrupted by Cindy 
appearing at the door. She stood quietly until she was acknowledged.

"What is it, Cindy?" Ron asked.

"Sir... there are military vehicles pulling up out front."

"Let's have a look." They all went out the front door, to find a large 
number of troop transport trucks lined up down the road. The lead truck 
pulled in the gate, and a military officer, a colonel from his insignia, 
walked up to Ron. The man had graying hair and stood a good four inches 
over Ron's height, and yet he saluted first.

"Sir, the Psionic Corps reporting for duty, sir!"

Ron returned the salute. "At ease. Then you can tell me what the hell 
you're talking about." In response, the man just handed over his 
paperwork. Ron read through it quickly. "Holy fucking shit," he muttered 
under his breath.

"What is it, sir?" Shelly asked, more familiar with all this than anyone 
else.

"We've been federalized. Well, sort of." Ron handed the paperwork to 
Shelly, who started to read through it more slowly, as Ron explained to 
the others. "As I understand those papers, and correct me if I'm wrong, 
Shelly, the government has just chopped this entire group of soldiers to 
our command. We're still not a congressionally sanctioned fighting force, 
but we are being given provisional use of military personnel for the 
duration of the war. Is that about it, Lieutenant?" Ron added her title 
because of the soldier standing there.

"That looks to be it, General. Looks like you did, and didn't, get your 
wish after all."

"Fuck." Ron turned to the colonel, who was obviously waiting for orders. 
"How many men in your detachment, colonel?"

"Two thousand, six hundred and four, sir. These are all of the personnel 
in the Army and Coast Guard that were found to have the Ability, sir."

"Does that include you, colonel?" The man turned beet red.

"Yes, sir."

"Your rating?"

"Sir?"

"Have you had any training in the psionic arts?"

"No, sir."

"Shit. All right, colonel. Assemble your troops, and strip them of their 
rank. I will re-assign you PPA rank over the next few days."

The man blinked, but then snapped to attention. "Yes sir!" he responded, 
with a salute. Ron returned it, and then watched the man return to his 
truck.

"Cindy, I'm going to need you, Megan, and Jill to log these people, the 
same way you've been doing the others. Do not list any kind of rank with 
their name, I don't want to know what they used to be. We'll assign them 
rank according to their skills, not their connections."

"Yes, Master," Cindy replied, and hurried off to do as she was told. Ron 
pulled up short when he realized just how nice it was for someone to call 
him something, anything, other than 'sir'. He shook his head as he moved 
out to what had become the parade ground. In the last week, he had 
purchased the properties all around him, giving the PPA a proper base to 
work from. Already, new buildings were being constructed to house troops. 
They were working at best possible speed, but it would still be a few 
weeks before those buildings were finished. The soldiers would have to 
sleep in tents until then. Ron figured that the Army guys would be used 
to it. The Coasties would just have to suffer through.

The troops were filing through a line where they removed their rank 
insignia and then filed onto the parade ground into formation. As that 
process was proceeding, the former colonel of the US Army approached Ron 
again.

"The men are removing all their insignias. How will you assign new rank, 
sir?"

Well, back to 'sir'. At least Cindy knows I'm really a civilian. Ron 
smirked at his thought before answering. "By skills. What's your name?"

"Mark Titus."

"Your job in the Army?"

"Plans and Operations."

"You were a strategist?"

"Yes, sir. I have a degree from the War College in military strategy."

"You can have your colonelcy back, then. You'll be working here at 
headquarters with me."

"Yes, sir!" Col. Titus barked.

"What about the Air Force, Navy, and Marine Corps psionics?"

"Should be here within the week, sir. I don't have a count on them for 
you."

"Very well." Just then, Ron's three girls came out with clipboards and 
pens. They moved to start interviewing troops. "Hold up, girls." The 
three stopped immediately, and looked to him for guidance. Ron pointed to 
the three biggest guys he could see close at hand. "You three, come 
here." When they did, he continued, "Follow Kim into the house, and bring 
out three tables and some chairs. No point in these girls standing up all 
day."

"Yes, sir!" was the enthusiastic reply from all three of them, and Kim 
led them off into the house.

"Civilians, sir? You have civilians working for you?" the colonel asked.

"They're not civilians, they're part of my family. Keep in mind this 
isn't a US military reservation, this is my goddamned house. This whole 
thing is one big fucking mess. Those girls... will do whatever I ask of 
them." The colonel got the message from that.

"Understood, sir. None of my troops have anyone like that. Is that to be 
encouraged or discouraged?"

"Until they can get back to their own housing, I'd discourage it. We will 
fully train these troops, Colonel. They will be ready before I send them 
into battle."

Just then, a group of psionics returned from a reconnaissance mission. 
Many of the soldiers looked up in awe as they flew down out of the sky to 
land on the parade grounds, and walked over to Ron. Their leader snapped 
to attention, and saluted. The colonel returned the salute before Ron 
did, which amused both Ron and the returning captain immensely.

"Report, John," Ron said.

"Sir, Cheyenne, Wyoming, and the surrounding area is... sir, it's gone. I 
don't mean destroyed, sir. They leveled it down to the ground. Except for 
the pavement, you'd be hard pressed to tell it was just a collection of 
rocks."

"Fuck me!" the colonel blurted. He turned red again. "Begging your 
pardon, General."

"Sounded about right to me, Colonel. Colonel Mark Titus, this is Captain 
John Billford. He's head of one of our recon teams. John, I'm moving you 
up to major. See Lars for your new assignment."

"No more recon duty, sir?" he asked.

"Fuck recon, John. It's time to start kicking ass."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" John saluted, and trotted off.

"Some of the men are not going to be comfortable serving under these 
civilians, sir." He didn't need to say that he wasn't comfortable taking 
orders from someone who had just turned seventeen.

"There are no civilians here, Colonel, and your troops are the ones who 
are green. Sure, some of them may have fought in war, but nothing like 
what we're facing now. Any discomfort they feel will pass after their 
first battle." Unlike my own, which just keeps getting worse. Ron had not 
wanted this job, he didn't like this job. He wasn't a general, he was a 
high-school student. He wanted to go back to being a high-school student,
but he couldn't make this nightmare go away.

"Yes, sir," the colonel replied.

"Nikki!" Ron hollered, seeing her across the yard. She rushed over to 
him, but forewent the kiss that she normally would have given him, as he 
had 'official' company.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Could you do me a favor and go get these guys some uniforms out of the 
supply shed?"

"Sure thing... how many do I need?

"About three thousand."

She just sort of stared at him for a minute. "Ron, they come like, what? 
Ten or twelve to a box?"

He smiled at her. "What, you don't want to spend all day lugging boxes 
around?" He laughed, his only light moment in days. "Colonel?"

The colonel quickly rounded up a detail to help the girl pick up the 
uniforms. Meanwhile, Ron discreetly gave her a hug and a quick kiss. 
"Take it easy, Nik."

"You got it, Big Brother." She hugged him back, in a more sisterly 
fashion, and led the troops off to get their new uniforms.

<Don't forget the rank insignia, Nikki,> Ron thought to her. She'd grown 
so used to his thoughts entering her head that way, she didn't even slow 
down her pace.

It took the rest of the day to get the new recruits settled into 
position. He had a whole new set of problems to deal with now, and a 
whole new set of egos. There were three colonels and one general in this 
bunch that were extremely unhappy to be busted back to the rank of 
lieutenant, just because their skills weren't up to par. He had four 
latent psionics to worry about, and they were being handled by Lars and 
Karen in a most delicate manner to try to provoke their Ability out into 
the open.

The next day, Ron gave the orders to his experienced troops, who headed 
off to their assigned duties. 2900 psionics departed the base. Ron 
wondered how many would live to return to it.

With the newly acquired military psionics, the base was anything but 
empty. And more troops arrived the following day, the men from the Air
Force. Two days later the Navy and Marine Corps officers joined the PPA.

"Commander Maxton, we meet again."

"Sir!" the man saluted, as did his assistant, Rita Connelly.

"Commander, I'm afraid you won't be commanding anything for a while. You 
need to learn to use your skills. For now, you're just about back to 
midshipman."

"I understand, sir," said the former officer.

"As for you, Miss Connelly, you are afforded civilian status here at the 
PPA base. You may dress in whatever attire Mr. Maxton finds appropriate 
for you."

"Aye, aye, General," the lady replied, with some confusion.

"You were the highest ranking officer in this collection, Mr. Maxton?"

"No, sir. Admiral Hollows is. He is there in the Hummer, sir."

"Any training with his Ability?"

"I don't know, sir." It turned out that Admiral Hollows had not, in fact, 
had any experience with his Ability. Ron found it curious that so many 
people had this thing, without playing with it. He guessed he was just 
more curious... or perhaps he was just hornier, he thought to himself, 
remembering the early days of his Ability. Damn, to be living back in
those days again.

Another two days had all of these troops settled, and their training 
underway. All told, there were over seven thousand military psionics, and 
Ron had to plan for several more buildings. The contractor he had hired 
was pleased to be receiving so much work, at a premium price, but the 
downside was that the timetable on the project was extremely tight.

It was another two weeks before the call came in. Several skirmishes had 
happened between the PPA and what Ron now called FC soldiers. For the 
most part, it had come out a draw, but in a war of this kind, a draw 
meant that the FC was winning.

Then, Ron received notice from one of his groups. Word on the street was 
that people shouldn't be in Los Angeles for the next few days. Ron was 
always amazed how people on the street could find these things out, but 
somehow they managed it.

He called together his planning team. Now, he not only had himself and 
Lars, but two Army colonels, an Air Force major, and a Navy captain to 
help out. They began to plot the defense of Los Angeles. After a marathon 
eight-hour session, they closed the books on their planning. It was now 
time to do something.

The PPA's next trial would be in the City of the Angels. Ron hoped he 
wouldn't become one in the next few days.

Twenty-two hundred soldiers from the Provisional Psionic Army took up 
their posts around Los Angeles. Ron was not to be distracted this time, 
and he was there, beside his team. Actually, it was Kim's team of 
Hunters, but since she always backed him up, it effectively became his 
team. They settled in to their positions to wait.

Out of the blue, he said to her, "You know what doesn't make sense about 
all of this to me?"

"What's that?" Kim inquired.

"There's nobody left here. Well, okay, yeah maybe as many as five or six 
thousand people who are too stupid to run... But no one else is still 
around. What's the point of attacking the city?"

"Perhaps it's not the people they're after," Kim suggested.

"Then what?"

"That... I don't know." She shook her head, not having any answers for 
her boss. She was extremely nervous. She had thought that the bad 
memories of her last battle experience were forgotten. She was wrong. 
They were coming flooding back to her now, and her fear was only
intensifying.

Ron saw it on her face. He gently grabbed her hand and squeezed, briefly, 
and then let go. The look in his eyes told her, You'll do fine. Trust me. 
But she'd already decided that trusting him was the problem: they all 
trusted him too much. And yet... And yet you can't help yourself, can you,
Kimberly? The little voice in her head that loved to punish her said. I 
should not lean so heavily on him! she raged to herself.

Then why don't you stop? the voice said with vicious mirth.

Because I... I... She couldn't make herself say it.

You clung to him like a frightened child after the last battle, the voice 
reminded her.

Yes, I did. But none of this can be. He has no feelings for me, anyway!

Doesn't he? Why did he let you cling to him like that? No one else would 
have.

Of course they would! she snapped back, angry at her own mind for 
tormenting her this way.

Would Lars?

Well... no... but...

But what? But Lars is different? the voice sneered. Yes, he is. You don't 
love Lars.

NO! she snarled to herself, physically turning away from the conversation 
in her head. It didn't stop the little voice from nagging at her anyway, 
but she refused to be taunted by it. Instead she focused on her job, 
checking her surroundings for signs of trouble.

Ron had observed her little interlude, watching her face, wondering what 
was going on in the mind of his subordinate. He wished she would confide 
in him, but she showed no signs of ever doing so. He also wished he knew 
some way to make her forget Philadelphia. So, Chaffey old boy, what have 
you screwed up this time? His own mind played its own game of torture 
with him. This time, however, he'd had real military planning done, and 
he was more confident that the plan would work. With over two thousand 
troops well placed around the city, he felt they had a good handle on 
things.

Over the next two days, the troops settled in to wait for the attack. 
Somehow, they had expected it to come as quickly as the last major battle 
had. Ron wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. He and two of his crew 
were driving around the city, checking in with other units. They were 
keeping psionic emissions to an absolute minimum, in the hopes that the 
Russians would not know how many troops were here.

As they drove along, they spotted a gang of looters. That didn't bother 
Ron: it was only stuff, and that's why stores had insurance. What caught 
his eye were the three women running from the store, being chased by the 
gang members.

"Pull over," Ron said.

"Sir, they're just three-" his lieutenant started to say.

"Pull the fucking truck over!" Ron snarled. The man did as ordered, and 
Ron stepped from the Hummer. The people were all still in range, and he 
reached out a mental control, freezing all of them in their tracks. He 
held them in place as he walked over to them. His boots thumped smartly 
against the concrete as he marched, the stars on his shoulder glistening 
in the afternoon sun. Once in front of them, he released the women first. 
At first, they were afraid he was helping the gang, but then they saw 
that the gang was still frozen.

"Why are you ladies still in town?" Ron asked.

"No way to get out of town," replied one.

"Go get in the truck," Ron ordered softly. The girls quickly complied. At 
that point, Ron released the gang members, who looked him over once, and 
then advanced.

"How moronic would it be to attack a psionic?" he asked. They slowed, but 
did not stop advancing. He decided to make his point a little clearer. He 
lifted their leader up, high over their heads, and threw him across the 
street, through another storefront window. "Now, chances are, he's still 
alive. The next guy, won't be. I repeat, do you really want to do this? 
Get the hell out of the city, while you still can."

The gang members looked from Ron to the store across the street, and back 
to Ron. One by one, they each turned and started running. Gratified, he 
returned to the truck. He looked back at the girls, who were all huddled 
together. "I'll have somebody take you girls out of here, just as soon as 
we're finished with our task. Drive on, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," replied the former colonel of the army. The extra shove he 
gave the gas pedal announced his displeasure with his current job of 
driving this kid around town.

Ron returned to his main post at nine that night. He sent the girls east 
in a sturdy vehicle, but with no escort. He didn't figure they'd be in 
any danger, once they were clear of the city. He'd done all he could for 
them.

"I keep coming back to it," he said out loud, but not actually to anyone 
in particular.

Kim asked, "Back to what?"

"Why here? Why now? There's nothing left to gain... this is a dead place. 
The only people here are us, and a few stragglers."

"Maybe it's the city they want."

"But every city they've been to, they've..." Ron's thought trailed off. 
Kim was about to ask him what he was thinking, but then she saw the look 
on his face. It was a look of concentration, a look of thoughtfulness. 
She let him be.

Ron was up the next morning with the sun. He looked down at the sleeping 
form of Kimberly, enjoyed how her hair flowed down her back, and was 
flung over her shoulder as she slept. Her face was peaceful, with even 
the hint of a smile on her lips. She looked like an angel. There are no
angels, Ron, he said to himself. But she does look like a Guardian. He 
chuckled lightly to himself at the thought, fondly remembering his 
friends from the other realm. Then he relieved the guard who was standing 
watch, so that he could now get some rest. Ron took a survey of the city 
around him, and his thoughts started to come together.

What do they want from this place? They can't want to enslave, or even 
kill, the people, because those have been driven off. They can't want the 
materials, or the city itself, because every one of those they have been 
to has been completely wiped out. So, what do they want from Los Angeles? 
His mind wasn't yet ready to take the next step, and he was stymied.

He didn't have very long to dwell on it, as he heard the familiar 
whooshing sound of psionics moving at high speed through the atmosphere.
The sound was similar to that of a jet plane, but without the engine 
noises. For those who hadn't heard it, he sent out a city-wide wakeup 
call. He used a low power, directed signal which he hoped the Russians
wouldn't detect.

The sound grew louder, and then Ron could see them. Kimberly was just 
rising from her sleep, and he not-so-gently pushed her back down to the 
ground as he crouched, keeping his eyes focused on his enemy. They were 
almost a small black cloud, blotting out a small portion of the sky. 
There was no way he could count them all. The sense of a large number of 
troops was there, but there were too many thought patterns to work them 
all out.

"Stay down, all of you," he ordered, not loudly, but in a normal tone of 
voice. "They probably haven't seen us yet, and I'd like to keep it that 
way." The people with him silently acknowledged what he was doing. Ron 
looked left and right, to see that other PPA soldiers were crouching as 
well, hiding behind building parapets and other roof structures. He 
turned back to watch as the Russians came in. They were coming slowly, 
and now they started to fan out. He had expected this part, and so the 
plan was working as expected.

"Kim, check six," he said, slipping into the language of the books he 
used to read, when he'd had time for such luxuries.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Watch our backs," he explained patiently.

"Yes." The nearest Russian to Ron was now still over a mile away. Ron's 
shields were not up yet, as that would highlight his position to anyone 
monitoring psionic activity. He saw a solid knot of people formed at the
center of the group, and he figured that was the command staff. Although
they were much too far away for him to go after now, he would keep his 
eye on them.

Lars and Karen tensed, down at street level. They could see the Russians 
approaching as they looked through an opening in-between buildings. Karen 
grabbed Lars' hand and squeezed. He looked over at her, and their eyes 
said everything.

<<Be careful,>> he said to her.

<<As always,>> she responded. They split, to lead two different groups of 
people. The advantage for them was that their permanent link did not 
register as psionic activity, and so they could communicate between the 
two groups without danger. Karen led her team off to the north. Lars kept 
his team where it was. Their part of the plan was already in motion.

Kara was fuming. Once again, she was stuck with the damned news crew. She 
would have been even more furious if she'd known that they had requested 
her. How in the hell am I supposed to get into the action, if I've got to 
baby-sit these two all the time?

She could see the FC troops rolling in, a black cloud that began to 
spread. Kara was certain that Rick was getting all sorts of great footage 
off of this. The black menace, she thought humorlessly. That's what the 
media will call them.

The PPA tensed, and the FC advanced. They allowed the black-clad troops 
to close to within five hundred yards of their frontline positions. As 
one man, almost, twenty PPA soldiers loosed a controlled burst at their 
nearest targets. Of those twenty targets, sixteen fell to the ground.
Ron's target never made it to the ground, as he evaporated and blew away 
in the wind.

Now, the battle was on. The FC soldiers immediately returned fire for 
their fallen comrades, and the melee began. Ron's position was assaulted 
by no less than ten FC troops, but Ron's shields protected them all. 
During a lull in the firing, the PPA soldiers with Ron slipped off the 
rooftop, and spread out. Kimberly stayed at Ron's side as they moved down 
onto the wide city street in front of their building. The FC troops 
shifted fire, and Ron and Kim maneuvered around it. Ron actually taunted 
them, saying things like, "What, are you blind?" and "We're over here, 
dimwit!" He was trying to goad them into a chase, and he could see it was
working. They began to move slowly down the road, and then picked up
speed.

Ron took the opportunity to look back, and saw that the FC men were, 
indeed, following. Ron and Kim took a separation, acting almost like 
aircraft. Kim remained slightly behind, and slightly below, Ron, watching
out for other enemies. They focused their concentration on what was 
behind them as they let their eyes watch what was in front of them. They 
often had to weave their flight path to avoid psionic fire from behind 
them, watching it blast cars, vans, or the very roadway beneath them 
after it had missed its intended target. The soldiers behind them were 
keeping pace, but were wary enough not to get too close. That was bad.

They were flying over a raised portion of the freeway, and so Ron 
motioned to Kim, and they dove around and under the freeway. They stopped 
quickly, and they were very near a small unit of PPA troops. Ron signaled 
for them to join in, and they did, flying up and over the freeway.

The Russians had already passed by Ron's position, and so the PPA 
soldiers got the drop on them. Ron and Kim fired the first volleys, and
these FC barbarians were soon falling from the sky.

"Good work, Captain," Ron said, and he and Kim moved off, looking for 
another group.

Karen's small band was in trouble, and Lars couldn't get to her. He had 
his hands full with several dozen FC troops pinning his force down. Karen 
and her twenty men and women were flying down streets, ducking around 
corners. The FC forces behind them were blasting away at buildings, 
trying to get at them, but they were managing to stay one step ahead of 
them. She heard a scream behind her, but didn't dare to look; she didn't 
dare slow down or they were all just as dead.

She mentally counted those still with her, and she found she was down to 
twelve. In such a short time, she had lost eight new friends. The thought 
hit her hard, and she almost stumbled in her flying. She righted herself 
quickly, and refocused on the task at hand: survival. She dodged around 
yet another corner.

Lars' men were holding their own, but it was a tough battle. Once again, 
he found himself outnumbered. He felt the presence of a PPA group not too 
far from him, and he called them for help. The FC troops were not 
expecting the second attack, and were caught off guard by the first wave. 
However, the second group was smaller than Lars' group, and so it was 
still not an even fight. The two PPA groups worked from different 
directions, hoping to catch the Russians in the crossfire. So far, they 
seemed to be doing all right.

It was then that Lars felt a searing pain across his arm. It spun him 
around so that he saw... her behind him. It was Zinaida! He fired wildly 
back at her, but her minions blocked his attack. His response was 
automatic: with that kind of firepower, he had only one choice.

<Run!> he shouted telepathically. His troops scattered, and the FC moved 
to cut them off. Several of Lars' men were cut down trying to escape, but 
most made it out of the area. Lars was chased by two men, but he crushed 
one under a falling light pole, and the other he smashed through a 
building. Having cleared his own trail, he had something else to worry 
about.

<<Where are you, sweetheart?>>

<<Damned if I know!>> Karen responded. She sent him a mental picture of 
the area. The FC troops were closing in on her, and she could feel them 
surrounding the area. She told her group to drop to the ground, to seek 
out hiding places inside buildings or in dark corners, hoping to hold out 
until help arrived. The crew scattered.

Karen picked a high post in a nearly destroyed office building, watching 
for the Russians to sweep through the area. She was not prepared for how 
they would handle such a task.

The Russian troopers began leveling buildings, one at a time. Karen 
stared in shock and dismay as she watched buildings she knew had friends 
in them come toppling to the ground. This is insane! she thought. As the 
FC moved closer, she scampered to the ground floor of this building, 
planning to slip out of it as they knocked it down. She watched them 
advance toward her, and she nearly cried out in the frustration of it. 
She was outnumbered, there was no way to fight back. The surgical strike 
they had planned came apart when the Russians had failed to act as 
expected.

The impacts came to her building. She moved for the door... but the door 
was no longer there. She was trapped inside the building! Oh, God, no. 
Not this again. She blasted a hole through the side of the building. She 
saw one FC soldier on the street, perhaps waiting for someone to do just 
what she was doing. She fired a laser-like blast, severing his head 
neatly from his body, and he fell to the ground. She climbed out of the 
hole she had made, and raced as fast as she could down the street, moving 
sideways relative to the FC forces hunting her. She wiped away tears for 
the friends who were obviously dead.

<<Where are you, Lars? I'm coming to you.>>

<<Meet me at Parker Center,>> he called back. As the main police 
headquarters, it was a building easily recognizable. They met up there 
after several minutes, and embraced. Lars had managed to gather several 
dozen troops together, realizing that only a larger force was going to be
able to stand against this enemy.

Ron and Kim wove their way around the bigger groups of Russians. They 
would leave those to the bigger teams. They found a small knot of twelve 
or thirteen, and began their attack. They took out two before the team 
returned fire, and the chase was on again. This tactic seemed to be 
working for them.

But this time it backfired. They were met face to face with the command 
staff of the FC. Immediately they were under fire from two directions. 
They maneuvered frantically around the fire. It was then that Ron got his 
first eye-to-eye look at Zinaida Dostoyeva. Bitch, he thought. And to 
think that I once trusted you! He sent a searing blast of energy at her, 
fast enough to catch her slightly off balance. He seared her arm, and the 
ball blasted straight through one of her bodyguards. He fell to the 
ground, screaming in agony, his heart having been cut from his chest.

Zinaida looked at him with ferocity in her eyes. <You will pay for this, 
'General'!> she mocked his title. Ron knew it was time for them to run. 
He looked around, and spotted a path much harder for a large group to 
take. They dove for the MetroRail entrance, and were soon underground. He 
could hear the fire raining down on the ground above them, but they flew 
as fast as they could down a train tunnel, until they were in a different 
part of the city. They emerged cautiously from the tunnel, and found that 
they were back in the heart of Los Angeles... or what was left of it.

Kara, alone on her perch, watched in fury. It was impossible for her to 
tell who was winning this battle. She could only see the battles close 
around her. This also frustrated Mel and Rick. "Can't you get us in 
closer, Kara?" Melissa whined.

Kara, upset at the prospect of missing yet another battle, unwisely 
agreed. "Okay, let's go," she said, and, without warning, lifted them off 
the roof and began to fly them into the middle of the war.

Ron was about to find Lars and Karen, when suddenly he felt a strange tug 
at his mind. He looked to Kim, but she apparently felt nothing. The tug 
became a continuous pull: it was the feel of a person in dire danger. He 
could almost sense that this person was crying out for help. "Come on," 
he said to Kim, grabbing her hand, and heading southwest. The troubled 
person was at the airport, and that was where Ron was going.

They flew at high speed towards Los Angeles International Airport, and 
Ron could see that there was, indeed, a problem here. He tensed for the 
fight.

Kara had moved the group towards the center of the fighting. She noticed 
a tall, familiar-looking building where several psionics were standing. 
It took a while to remember the building from the old Dragnet episodes. 
She set her charges down on a stable pile of rubble that used to be an 
office building, and they hunkered down to keep an eye on things. Rick 
had his camera out and rolling, as usual.

The FC formed up in a large group, and descended on the Parker Center 
complex. Lars called in the PPA soldiers, and it appeared as if this 
would be a deciding battle. Karen briefly wondered where Ron was.

Ron was just then landing at the airport. He and Kim moved quickly. The 
Russians had spread themselves very thin, destroying everything in sight. 
Airplanes were burning on the runways, which had been completely torn 
from the ground. Buildings were crumbling and wrecked. Vehicles were 
overturned, and dead bodies lay everywhere. Kim gasped at the sight, and 
then coughed from the smoke, and the smells.

They moved quietly through the debris, killing any FC soldier they could, 
and moving around knots of people too big to fight. Ron was looking for 
something, Kim knew, but he hadn't bothered to tell her what. They moved 
around one more destroyed building, and there they found what they had 
been looking for.

Susan and her group had been running for days. The Russians had dogged 
their every move. They were tired, they were bruised, and they were 
losing. She'd lost three people already. She feared that they were 
following her into death. She had been looking for Ron Chaffey for months 
now, not even really knowing where he lived. The war had come as a rude 
surprise to her and her group, and they had suffered mightily at the 
hands of the Russians, and other unfriendly psionic groups.

The Russians had chased her to the airport, and here they knew there was 
no place to run. The ocean to the west, a destroyed and burning city to 
the east, soldiers all around them. They cringed behind a destroyed 
shack, and waited for the soldiers to come.

The Russians attacked in force, twelve soldiers going after the five 
remaining in Susan's party. Susan's team fired back, but their fighting 
skills were just not up to the task. The Russians shooed the attacks away 
like fireflies. They were getting closer. Susan looked around for a place 
to escape, and saw nothing. Tim was seated next to her, resting against 
the wall. He said, "Where's the PPA when you need 'em, huh?"

Susan looked at him in irritation. They'd heard of the PPA, of course, 
through news broadcasts and the psionic community. "I don't want to hear 
that kind of crap just now, okay? We've got to find a way out of this!"

The Russians were now only thirty feet away. When the first one fell, it 
shocked both sides. When the next fell right beside him, the Russian 
forces stopped their advance. They were not prepared for strong 
resistance. When two PPA soldiers, dressed in their dark gray battle 
gear, came diving out of the sun, they were completely unprepared for it. 
Six more of them were down, and the remaining troops scattered as leaves 
before a wind.

The PPA soldiers circled round, and landed behind Susan and her small 
group. Tim looked up, astonished. "You guys... you're with the PPA!"

"That's right," the man said. "Someone call for help?"

"I did," replied Susan, "But I didn't really expect an answer. Who the 
hell are you, anyway?"

Ron reached down to help Susan to her feet. "I'm General Ron Chaffey, 
commanding officer of the PPA." Susan was so relieved that she hugged him 
tightly. Ron tolerated it for a few seconds, and then extricated himself 
from her embrace. "We've got to get you out of here."

On their flight back toward Los Angeles proper, Kim thought over the past 
few minutes. See? the little voice cried, He didn't let this Susan cry on 
his shoulder!

Shut up! she told her mind. But her thoughts continued to follow this 
path, as if some force were pushing her, even though she knew it was
only her own... what? Desire? Need? What did she feel for Ron?

Ron led the small band he had rescued to a safe hiding place, near the 
subway entrance. He told them to remain there, and that he would return 
for them. He motioned Kim to follow, and he took off for the battle at 
Parker Center.

Lars had led a good fight. The Russians had swarmed the place, and the 
chaos that followed meant that no one knew who was winning. Russians and 
PPA troops were falling everywhere. It was total pandemonium. Lars flung 
one Russian into a building, only to be singed by another Russian's blast 
of energy. Where the hell is Ron?

Ron was mere seconds from the battlefield. He and Kim landed on the 
outskirts of the battle, and waded in. Ron was using physical attacks, 
augmenting his strength with his extension. He tackled one Russian, 
swinging over him and snapping his neck. Ron let go as the body fell, and 
flipped himself upright, snapping a side kick to another FC soldier who 
wasn't paying enough attention. That man went flying into a nearby car,
implanting himself in the metal framework.

Kim, meanwhile, was using her extension to cause flashes in people's 
vision, distracting them and then lancing in with a mental attack, 
completely blocking their ability to move. She held them like that, and 
finished them off with a martial arts move. One, she broke the neck. 
Another had his spine fractured, and then she crushed the skull of a 
woman who had just killed a PPA soldier. Kim could feel her warrior 
instincts welling up inside her, and she reveled in them, wading further 
into this battle.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a Russian behind Ron, 
about to blast him with a mental bolt. She lashed her extension out at 
him, using it like a whip, catching him around the throat and squeezing. 
She never heard the battle cry that rose out of her throat as the man's 
head was literally squeezed off of his neck, effectively ending his life.

Ron, who had heard her cry, turned to look, and, realizing she had just 
saved his ass, shot her a quick salute. She bowed her head slightly in 
response before returning to kill more soldiers. Soldiers? No, these are 
animals, not soldiers!

Lars and Karen fought side by side, taking down FC troops left and right. 
Lars saw the movement before Karen did, and he knew she could not get out 
of the way in time. He dove in front of her, raising his shields to the 
maximum. He absorbed the impact of the blast, felt it wash over him. His 
shields were not strong enough to stop the blast, and he felt it 
penetrate. His body was wracked with pain, and he fell to the ground, 
nearly unconscious.

Karen knelt beside him momentarily. She knew he was still alive, and the 
rage within her boiled to the surface. Her body fairly glowed with the 
energy she felt, and she released it in a bolt of energy so intense it 
was fully visible, lancing through their attacker. He had no chance to 
escape her vicious attack, and he was dead before his body parts ever hit
the ground.

Karen did not watch him die. She found another Russian, and blasted a 
hole in him so large it appeared as if he had been shot with a cannon. 
She found another, and another, venting her rage. By the time she had 
calmed down at all, a dozen FC troops lay on the ground from her attack. 
She was drained, and dizzy. She again knelt at Lars' side.

"Remind me," he said to her, almost in a whisper, "Not to get on your bad 
side ever again." She laughed, and cried at the same time, hugging him to 
her.

Ron and Kim met up again, having waded into the center of the battle. 
There they saw Karen and Lars. They rushed over, and found Lars was very 
weak, Karen exhausted. That's when the ground started rumbling.

Ron and Kim looked up. The buildings all around were shaking. Earthquake? 
Ron thought. Now? But it wasn't an earthquake. Not a natural one, anyway. 
The FC soldiers had withdrawn quickly, as the buildings started to 
crumble. The Russians were once again knocking over buildings, in an 
attempt to crush the PPA soldiers beneath the sheer weight of the stone 
and metal and glass.

<PPA! Move out!> Ron shouted in his mind. He grabbed Lars, and Kim 
grabbed Karen, and they flew out as fast as they possibly could.

Kara was much too close to the battle, she knew, and so were her charges. 
She lifted them up to move them away, and in doing so was distracted from 
the falling rubble around her. She was hit on the shoulder by a large 
chunk of flying debris. She was tossed to the ground, and her shoulder 
was on fire. She did manage to put up a shield around herself and the 
news crew, bringing them over to her. They rested a moment, and then 
began to move out, with the rest of the PPA.

Ron and Kim returned to the place they had left Susan. Ron set Lars down, 
so that he could rest. Karen was gaining her strength back, but was still 
not ready to fly. Without being bidden, Susan looked Lars over. She 
rested her hands against his wound. Karen kept a very close eye on the 
woman, worried for her boyfriend. Susan's strength flowed through Lars, 
helping him to heal. She felt as though he were actually drawing power 
from her. His eyes fluttered, and he was waking... but the power drain 
continued, and it was as if she felt herself getting weaker. She quickly 
drew her hands away, as he sat up and shook his head to clear the 
cobwebs. He looked at her. He had expected it to be Karen, but he 
realized she was still too weak.

"Sorry about that," he said. "You have to be careful around me... 
sometimes I can draw the psionic strength right out of a person. Don't 
worry, you'll regain it in less than a day. I didn't mean to do it... 
it's hard to control when I'm not fully aware of it."

Susan nodded. Ron had watched with mild interest, but he was more curious 
about who his new guests were. "Who are you, anyway?" he asked.

"Susan Chandler. I've been looking for you for months. I was hoping to 
get your help... but then this whole thing blew up in my face. I guess 
you don't have time for a little problem like the one I was facing."

"Not really. Can we take you back anyplace? We're heading home now... 
this battle's a bust, just like the last one." Kim saw the anger in
his face, and heard the hurt in his voice.

"I don't know what we're going to do. We can't survive in this 
environment. Those Russians were hunting us. If we go back out there,
we'll be killed."

"What training have you had?" he asked.

"No 'formal' training. Some friends," and she gestured to those around 
her, "taught me how to heal people. I know some simple physical moves, 
but not much else."

"Okay. We'll take you back home then. At least there you can be trained. 
After that, you decide what you want to do."

"Thank you."

"We need to get out of here. The Russians will be looking for stragglers. 
You strong enough to fly out of here, Lars?"

"Not yet, boss," he responded, the discomfort clear in his voice.

"All right, then. Let's not struggle too much, okay?" Ron hefted four of 
them, and Kim took the other three, and they flew east, away from the 
city. When they had reached the outskirts, they stopped and looked back. 
Ron's face grew dark with anger as he saw the remains of Los Angeles. It 
was too sprawling a city to be totally wiped out, but the city proper was 
completely unusable now.

"My God," Susan said. "What's the point of it all?"

"I think we're looking at it," Kim answered. "I think they just want to 
destroy everything." Ron kept his thoughts to himself. He was beginning 
to understand the truth, and Kim wasn't quite right.

"Let's go home," he said, and they turned and flew off, not sure whether 
this fight had been a loss or not. Either way, the city was left to the 
Filitov Council. Another failure, Ron thought. Even with military 
planning. What the hell are we doing wrong?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Chasing Wild Geese

Ron tossed and turned in his bed, alone that night as he had been
for a long time. He couldn't get past the events of the last months, and
the dreams...

.... They were in Miami. The city was being destroyed. People had not 
listened to their warning, and so the city was still heavily populated 
when the Russians attacked. Although the sides were evenly matched, the 
Russians were playing by a far looser set of rules. The civilian 
population was used as ammunition by the FC, hurtling them at PPA troops. 
As the Americans tried to save the lives of the civilians, they had lost 
their own, in turn killing the civilian anyway.

The battle was well underway, and that was when Ron made his mistake. 
Twenty or so Russians pushed over a giant office building, loaded with 
panicking people. Ron tried to stop the building from falling. It was a 
foolish effort; there was no way he could have held the building upright. 
Seeing his dilemma, Kim had come to aid him. In the struggle of forces 
trying to hold the structure together versus those trying to topple it, 
the building had simply disintegrated. It was not built to withstand such 
pressures. It toppled in their direction, and he'd had all he could do to 
save his own skin. He saw her falling, being buried under a huge pile of 
debris...

"NO!" he screamed, bolting upright in bed. His heart was racing, his skin 
covered in a cold sweat. His breath came in heaving gasps. His eyes 
scanned the darkness for any sign of an enemy, before he remembered his 
dream.

And then he wished he could forget. It had been over three months since 
the battle in Los Angeles, during which time several major battles had 
been fought, and lost. The city of Miami had fallen, literally, to the 
Russians only two weeks ago.

He had searched that pile of rubble for three solid hours, fearing what 
he would find left of his assistant's - his friend's - body. He continued 
looking out of an unknown sense of duty. He would not leave her behind.

When he did finally recover her, he was amazed to find her still alive, 
but barely. With the battle still raging around him, he carried her, 
walking, to the aid station that Susan Chandler had established. He fed 
her as much of his own strength as he could, trying to heal her, but his 
skills at this were not up to the damage that had been done.

By my own hands. It was the thought that had run through his head then, 
and every night since. He had relived that battle time and time again, 
and it always ended the same way, the way he remembered it. He dressed 
and left his room, silent and brooding. Except for the guards, no one was 
awake at this hour. He moved stealthily through the house, not wishing to 
awaken anyone. He slipped into the night, the cold air slapping him in 
the face. He shivered, but moved on, towards the medical facility they 
had established.

It gave him some comfort to know that, in saving Susan's life, and in 
training her, he had helped his cause immensely. Her medical healing 
skills were some of the best he had ever seen, and Karen had filled in 
the gaps in her knowledge. Karen had also removed herself from the 
battlefield, realizing that she should have been doing what Susan was now 
in charge of.

He entered the medical facility, with its white walls and its bright 
fluorescent lights. His skin looked sallow and sickly, for he had not 
slept well in a very long time. The staff took note of his presence but, 
knowing why he was here, made no attempt to speak with him. He moved, 
almost in a daze, to her room, opening the door silently, and walking in.

He looked at her, and only because he had seen her before was he able to 
hold in his gasp of dismay at her appearance. Her face was bandaged, but 
the skin that was visible was now an ugly yellowish color, having faded 
from the deep purple of her original bruises. Her body was bandaged, as 
her bones healed. The process was certainly much faster than conventional 
healing, but, as Susan herself had told him, conventional medicine could 
not have saved Kim. The head injury and the internal bleeding had been 
far too severe for that. Susan had also told Ron that his initial aid to 
her had certainly saved her life, but he knew that was something that 
doctors just had to say. After all, it had been him who had nearly killed 
her in the first place.

He sat down beside her bed, and watched her breathing. There were a few 
monitors in place, along with a simple IV to help feed her. She had woken 
up only twice, the nurses had told him, and in both cases had faded back 
out without so much as a word. She was completely unresponsive to any 
stimulus that they had tried, including direct mental probing. There was 
a strong, dark barrier that held them out. Although Susan had never dealt 
with a comatose patient before, she felt that this condition might be a 
normal part of the coma for a psionic.

Ron looked at her for a very long time before he moved. When he did move, 
he reached over to gently take her hand. Her hand was warm but limp in 
his, and he then leaned over toward her. He whispered in her ear, in a 
tone that carried more grief than he could have imagined feeling for a 
living person, "I'm sorry."

He managed not to faint when her hand slowly grasped his. Though her eyes 
didn't even flutter, and her monitors all remained unchanged, in his 
mind, he heard, <I know.>

Ron held her hand gently as he leaned back in his own chair. The doctor 
on duty found them that way two hours later when he made his rounds. He 
decided not to disturb them.

When Ron finally awoke that day, he found himself holding hands with a 
conscious individual. He looked over and tried to smile at her. It was a 
vain attempt, but even the gesture made her feel better.

"Hi," he said.

<How long have you been here?> she asked.

<About ten hours,> he answered, after checking his watch.

<How long have I been here?> she asked with a little worry in her voice.

<Thirteen days. Can you speak?>

<I tried making some noise a while ago. It hurt too damned much
to talk.>

At the first hint that she was still in pain, tears welled up in Ron's 
eyes. <God, Kim, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should never have 
tried...> He stopped as she squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. He 
punished himself for the weakness of her grip.

<I know. You didn't intend for anyone to die. You didn't mean for me to 
get hurt. Shit happens. Tell me the truth, am I going to be all right?>

<Susan thinks so. But you've got a ways to go, yet. At least you're awake 
now. Thank God for that. I thought I'd lost you back there.>

Kim felt her heart lurch when he said that. 'I thought I'd lost you. Not 
we, but I. Perhaps he does care for me. Kimberly had had the unpleasant 
experience of reliving her own mistakes in life during her coma, and she 
had come to the conclusion that perhaps she had made a mistake in her 
choice of lifestyle. The man before her was so obviously concerned for 
her wellbeing that she could deny it no longer. And yet...

What if I'm wrong now? And so she said nothing. At that time, they were 
interrupted by the doctor, who came in to see a very awake patient. He 
was so surprised that he actually dropped his clipboard. His mouth hung 
open in an expression of total amazement. Finally, he regained his 
composure, and left the room to find Susan.

Ron remained at Kim's side throughout the following two hours of 
procedures. He didn't know why he couldn't leave; he had work to do, 
after all. Something in him compelled him to remain by her side until he 
knew the results of the tests. He also felt that Kim might need someone 
there in case the news was not good.

Susan dismissed the nurses, and pulled up a chair next to Ron. He didn't 
entirely understand why she had not asked him to leave throughout the 
ordeal. She had simply moved around him when necessary, not even once 
asking him to move out of the way. The look on her face was unreadable, 
and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. He had the 
sudden urge to run from the room just as fast as he could, but he was 
effectively blocked in.

"Kimberly," the doctor began, "I'm glad to see you're awake now. We were 
beginning to worry that you would never come out. Now, my experience with 
coma is... well, I won't lie, it's nonexistent. The regular docs on staff 
tell me that the longer you were under, the less likely you were going to 
recover fully.

"Now, I know you want to know the results of our tests. All of our 
findings look good. Your body is healing rapidly, but this has some 
rather unpleasant side effects. Because of the rapid regeneration, you 
are going to be very uncomfortable for a while. We will give you pain
medication to ameliorate this. That will last for at least the next week
to ten days."

"Doc," Kim asked, "When the hell am I getting out of here?"

"Well, that is partially up to you. As you regain your strength, you 
should be able to use some of your own ability to heal yourself a little 
more quickly. After all, as good as I am, you're the only one who knows 
ALL the places that need fixing. The other thing is that you've been 
laying in this bed now for two weeks, and will continue to do so for at 
least one more. That's three weeks off your feet, and you're going to 
need to get your physical body back into shape, too."

"Can't I do that from across the parking lot?" She was referring to the 
house where she had been staying.

"I suppose so, if someone will keep an eye on you, so you don't overexert 
yourself." She eyed Ron with meaning.

"I can assure you that she would be looked after," Ron said. If I have to 
follow her around myself, his mind added before he could stop it.

"Very well, then. As soon as you can move around at all, we'll let you 
back over there. But you are not to go into battle until I say so. Is 
that clear?"" Her voice had taken on a stern, 'I'm a doctor, and you'd 
best listen' tone.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Kim weakly. As she faded out from the exertion of 
the afternoon, Susan motioned Ron to the hallway.

They walked down the hallway as they talked. "Ron, she's in pretty bad 
shape. She is, right now, in the same condition as the worst of our other 
patients. Each of them has taken three weeks to leave here. I worry that 
we may be pushing it to let her out in one week."

"Susan, I promise you, on my honor, that she won't be going into any kind 
of battle until you say it's okay. The girls can watch over her 24/7 if 
need be, and, let's face it: you need the room."

Susan sighed. "True enough. Okay, but I still don't like it. I don't like 
patients leaving until they're well."

"I'd prefer you didn't have any patients at all," Ron said morosely. "We 
don't always get what we want." He left the hospital then, to go to work.

For the next week, Ron made sure he spent at least an hour or two every 
day with Kim in the hospital, talking, helping her with her exercises, 
hoping to cheer her up a little. He was more successful in this last 
endeavor than he would ever know.

When the day finally came for her to be released, Susan and the staff 
nurses and doctors who had worked with her lined up to applaud her as she 
walked, albeit badly and leaning on Ron for most of her support, down the 
hall to the exit. Susan waited at the door.

"I don't think you have the strength to walk all the way to the house, 
Kimberly. Perhaps we should call over a jeep."

"You keep thinking in normal terms, Susan. You should remember we're 
psionics. I'll get her over to the house, don't you worry," Ron 
responded. Kim looked at him with the newfound love she had allowed to 
blossom over the last week. Now, it was only necessary for her to find 
the courage to tell him about it. That would be much more difficult than 
she anticipated.

Ron led her through the doors, where they paused to absorb the warm 
sunshine. She looked down as she felt the ground fall away. Ron had 
lifted her, and she relaxed into the sensation of being carried in his 
psionic powers. Oh, how she would rather he had carried her in his arms, 
but to a psionic, this was nearly the same thing.

 From across the lawn, the family watched them approaching. "She sure 
looks happy for a sick girl," noticed Nikki.

"She's in love," answered Linda.

"Have you noticed how much time Ron has been spending with her lately?" 
Sandra asked Linda.

"Perhaps it's just guilt," Lars said. He had an annoying habit of saying 
the wrong thing at the wrong time. Karen slugged him, rather hard, 
everyone else thought, for it.

"Damn you, Lars Ohlin, don't you have any caring for anyone?"

"Only you, love. Only you." He reached down and kissed her by way of 
apology. She allowed it, but was still a little miffed at his attitude.

"Mom," Nikki said, "Are you saying that Ron loves Kim?"

"Well, Sweetheart," Sandra answered carefully, "I think he does, and 
Linda thinks he does, but I'm not sure if Ron knows he does yet. So be
careful what you say. Love is a very tender thing," Sandra concluded, 
staring at Lars. He raised his hands in a sign of surrender, and kept his
mouth shut.

Nikki looked more closely at Kim just then, studying her face, her 
posture, her mood. Then she looked to her brother, and what she saw 
there... Nikki nodded her head to her mother, and then she slipped away, 
going back into the house.

Ron settled into a routine for the next two weeks: in the mornings, he 
would receive his briefings about how the battles had gone the previous 
day. Under the advice of his staff, he was not going into the field 
anymore. They had suggested that his place was to command, and not to 
lead. He felt that this was somehow inappropriate, but he went along with 
it, figuring they knew better than he did how to run a war.

In the afternoon, he would spend his time helping Kim regain her strength 
and flexibility. For the first few days, it was simple walking. Once she 
felt strong enough from that, they moved on to some basic martial arts 
and weapons moves. These things were all familiar to Kimberly, but her 
body rebelled at being forced to do them after such abuse. She was 
extremely sore the first day they tried this, but a warm massage from 
Megan eased many of those pains. While she lay there, she longed for the 
hands on her body to be Ron's, but she had not yet gotten up the courage 
to say anything to him. What if I never do? I will live the rest of my 
life without him! That thought scared her so badly she shivered.

When Megan finished up the rubdown, she left, to be replaced by another 
female of the house, who wrapped a robe around Kim's shoulders before she 
sat up. As she did rise, she saw that it was Nikki, Ron's younger sister, 
who had come to visit her.

"Hello, Nikki," Kimberly said properly.

Nikki said, "I'm jealous of you."

Kim was taken aback. So much so that she moved slightly away from the 
young lady. "Whatever for? I have nothing that you could want..."

"You have my brother."

Kim's face reddened. "Nikki, your brother and I have never..."

"Not yet," she said. "But you will. I can tell. I know my brother."

"I wish I were that sure," Kim said without thinking.

"Are you afraid of him?" Nikki asked.

"No... not afraid... not exactly," Kimberly stammered.

"He's a good person, Kim. My brother deserves the very best." Her tone of 
voice did not imply that Kimberly didn't fit into this group. It also did 
not automatically place her there.

"Yes, I know that," Kimberly said, her head down slightly.

Nikki reached over, and put her finger beneath Kim's chin, so that Kim 
was looking her in the eyes. "You be good to him, you hear me?" Nikki 
said, and, though it was veiled, Kim thought she heard the implicit 
threat there anyway.

"I will, Nikki. I promise." There were tears in Kim's eyes as Nikki 
leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. Then she got up and walked 
out. The voice from the other door to the room startled Kimberly rather 
badly.

"Nikki never was one to hold a grudge," Sandra said quietly. Kimberly 
jumped as she turned toward the voice. "But she will hold you to your 
promise."

Kimberly nodded soberly. "I only hope I have a chance to keep it."

"You will. She's right, you know. The only two people who don't know he 
loves you, are you and him. He'll come around, but don't push him. He's 
lost two already, and it's a very sensitive subject. Don't tell him 
unless you're ready to open that door. There's a lot of ugliness behind 
that door, Kim. And he will have to deal with it again. And then you will 
have to deal with however he chooses to deal with it."

"He has been in love twice already?"

"Probably more, if you count his older sister. Ron has lost a lot of 
people who are close to him. He lost Jessica, his first... girl, in the 
first battle with the Russians, a couple years back. Dawn left with 
Nathan soon after that. Kumiko was his first real love, I believe, and 
she was killed by a demon. Michelle was another, and she has, apparently,
turned against him... or she was always this Zinaida person, and what she
had with him was all a lie. Either way, I know he hurts over it. All of 
that is hidden away, Kim. Locked in some corner of his mind. If you tell 
him you love him, it will open that door, and something very unpleasant 
may come out."

"Are you telling me not to tell him?" Kim feared that was exactly what 
his mother was leading to.

"Oh, God, no. Kim, he needs you. Don't you see? The rest of us... okay, 
we love him, but we really don't understand him. I used to think I 
understood my son, but that was before all this happened. Now... now I 
just enjoy the time I have with him."

Kimberly rose from the bed and crossed over to Sandra. "Thank you, 
Sandra. Thank you for your advice... and your permission." Though no one 
had yet said it, both of her visitors this evening were giving their 
implicit permission, and even support, to Kim's adventure.

Sandra hugged the girl to her growing frame, and without hesitation, they 
kissed warmly. Kim melted into it and enjoyed the sensation while it 
lasted. After their lips separated, Sandra said, "Be good to him, Kim." 
The threat was less ominous in Sandra's voice, and Kim wondered just what 
that meant.

"I will. I promise, Sandra." They kissed again, to seal the promise, 
before Sandra left her alone with her thoughts. Her head spun at the 
thought that everyone knew what she felt... except for the one she most 
wanted to know.

The next morning at breakfast, Ron was eating toast and scribbling some 
notes when his mother came into the kitchen to make her own breakfast. 
Ron looked up at her, watching her walk across the kitchen. It would have 
been comical if he didn't love her so much. She was six months pregnant 
now, and her otherwise slender frame was grossly stretched by the baby 
she was carrying. His baby. He rose quietly from his chair and walked up 
behind her, wrapping his arms as far as he could around her waist. He 
laid his head down on top of hers, and just held her for a moment. She 
stopped what she was doing and relaxed back into him, briefly remembering 
the tension the day he had noticed her pregnancy. She feared an outburst, 
she thought he might explode at her. He had sat down and wept. She never 
could bring herself to ask him what was wrong that day. After that, he 
went out of his way, like now, to let her know that he loved her. She 
knew that, anyway, but she enjoyed his attention.

Linda walked in at that moment. Seeing what was happening, she waddled 
herself over, and rubbed Ron's back. He enjoyed that, she knew. She 
reminded herself that this was something she would have to teach Kim.

Ron let go of his mother, and turned to embrace Linda, giving her a warm 
kiss in greeting and thanks. She enjoyed the feel of her stomach pressed 
against him, her swollen breasts pushing into his chest, and her lips 
sealed against his. It was the perfect way to start any morning.

He let her loose with a parting smile, and, without a word, returned to 
his notes. Neither woman knew what was so important, but the scowl that 
returned to his face as he began work again meant that it was definitely 
bothering him. They ate their breakfast in silence.

Kim would have no chance to talk to Ron in a personal way this day. He 
called everyone together for a planning meeting, to discuss some things 
he had figured out.

"Okay, everyone. We've been fighting since late July, and we've achieved 
very little." The bitterness in his voice was hard to miss. Everyone in 
the room knew just whom he blamed for that particular situation. "We have 
to find a way to fight back, without hurting the people more than they 
are already being hurt. First, let's catch up with what's going on around 
the world. Jeff, you have a report, I believe."

Jeff limped up to the podium. His latest injuries had not yet healed, and 
he still had a scar on his forehead from the Philadelphia battle, so many 
months ago. "As you can imagine," he began, "We are the hardest hit 
nation. However, no nation has gone unchallenged. We have reports 
flooding in from Africa, Asia, even Australia. Nowhere is neutral 
territory in this war. We are also receiving dozens of requests for 
training assistance."

"We haven't got the manpower," Colonel Titus grumbled. Ron scowled at 
him, and motioned for Jeff to continue.

"Our reports tell us that even Japan has finally been attacked. We have 
unconfirmed reports that show that this is one place where the FC has 
been stymied. It would appear that, though major damage has been done,
the Japanese psionic community has not taken major casualties. However, 
we have no information to support this report. Both formal and informal
inquiries made toward the Japanese psionic community have been 
unanswered. We have no further information to report on this development, 
but we are working on it.

"In the rest of the world, they are faring about as we are: badly. No one 
really seems to be able to understand the concept that the Russians are 
aiming for. They have yet to go after political or military leaders, or 
even the leadership of the opposing psionic forces. We don't know why 
this is, either. It goes against military doctrine." At this point, Ron 
waved him to a seat. Jeff was glad to be off his feet.

Ron moved back to the front of the room. "That last question, I think I 
finally came up with an answer. It started back in Los Angeles, but it 
wasn't in focus. I couldn't quite get a handle on it. The Miami 
attack..." here, Ron faltered for a second, but recovered, making sure he
did not look in Kim's direction. "Showed me what I was missing. The 
Russians aren't after the country. At least, not yet." Everyone waited 
patiently as Ron warmed up for this talk.

"I couldn't figure out just why they were attacking cities at random... 
destroying them, and then disappearing back to their hidey-holes. They 
weren't actually getting anything out of the attacks. They destroyed all 
the usable materials, most of the citizens had left..."

"But sir," Lars interrupted, "We've found that most of those citizens 
have, in fact, been hunted down after the attacks."

"Not hunted, Lars, I don't think so. They were found and killed, yes, but 
I think it was more of an amusement than a concerted effort. These people 
thrive on killing, but I don't think that's the point of the attacks, 
either.

"Okay, so they don't want resources, they don't want slaves, what does 
that leave? Why go to the city? More important, why let us know you're 
going to the city?" He saw the querying looks he was getting, and so 
moved on. "That's right. I think we were told which cities were going to 
be hit. Why did we know about some, and not others? Why did we know about 
any of them? There was no reason for us to know. No reason for the people 
to know. So why did we? And why never a little town, or a little battle, 
but always those with hundreds of psionics? The only little battles are 
the ones we've stumbled on in progress. That can't be a coincidence.

"What I'm suggesting is this: the target of this Russian campaign... is 
us. Not us in this room, or even just us in this compound, but every 
American... no, every non-Russian psionic in the world. Before someone 
asks: why not attack this compound? If they do that, and succeed in 
destroying us, it makes the others harder to find. The longer this war
drags on, the more psionics find their way to us. We've gathered a total
of 17,852 psionics so far, and we've lost over a quarter of those. We 
have no accurate numbers on how many psionics are in the United States, 
but I'd say we probably account for a significant fraction of them. So, 
destroying the PPA goes against their goal. At least, if they do it 
directly. But if they draw us out into combat protecting a city... well, 
that just looks good for the cameras, doesn't it?" He looked over at 
Melissa Conway, sitting next to her cameraman, filming the briefing. He 
smiled quickly before moving on.

"On the other hand, what else can we do? We can't just hand them the 
city. That condemns millions of people to torture and death. Okay, yes, I 
admit, we've done damned poorly at preventing that anyway." He looked 
down and shook his head, trying to clear the thought. "It's a brilliant 
plan. Either we fight, or we become enemies of our own country. We can't 
attack their country, because their country isn't really the cause of all 
this. So, what do we do? Does anyone know? I haven't got a fucking clue. 
I wish-"

Ron was interrupted by one of the house guards, a former Hunter by the 
look of him. He saluted properly, and waited to be acknowledged. "What is 
it?" Ron asked.

"Sir, we're receiving more troops. These are... not Americans, sir."

"Okay." The man left, and Ron turned his attention back to the group. "I 
guess I need to find out what this is about. If any of you come up with a 
plan to fight this, you let me know. Otherwise, we will continue with the 
only course of action available to us. Dismissed."

As the room broke up, Ron motioned Kim to his side. He walked slowly, to 
make sure she had no problems keeping up. He knew she still had a few 
weeks to go before she would be battle-ready. "How are you feeling 
today?" he asked in an earnest voice. She had noticed that he seemed 
almost to be straining himself, unwilling to actually push her too hard, 
but seeming to push himself in her stead.

"I'm getting stronger every day. I'm a little sore from yesterday, but," 
she added quickly, seeing his concern, "It's nothing more than I would 
have felt from a strenuous workout before the accident."

The accident. He had noticed she had started calling it that. He didn't 
know if that was a mental block on her part, or a way of trying to make 
him feel better about nearly killing her. Either way, the semantics 
didn't fool his own perverse conscience. The only accident was that I 
actually did anything right that day.

"Okay. I'm apparently going to be busy with these new people, so I want 
you to train with either Lars or Jeffrey. Is that okay?"

"Yes. I'll ask Lars. He knows my moves a little better, and can more 
easily tell me where I need improvement. Ron, I understand that you're 
busy. You don't need to see to my rehab every day."

He just looked at her with one of those Wanna bet? looks. He turned away 
from her after a few moments, and said, before walking away, "I'll see 
you later. Take it easy today, okay?"

"Okay," she answered to his retreating back. Did I just make a mistake? 
And if so, what was it? Who can I talk to about this? I have no idea what 
I'm doing! She felt the tears pushing their way to her eyes, but she 
forced them down. Warriors, she had learned, do not cry. She had never 
had someone to teach her differently.

Ron made his way out to the parade ground, to see several hundred 
psionics milling about, in what looked like very worn and tattered 
military gear, but it definitely was not American in manufacture. The 
first soldier to see him bellowed out, "Regiment to attention!" Ron noted 
the accent immediately, having grown used to people's feet slapping 
together when he walked into their midst.

"Stand at ease," he said in a normal tone, using his telepathic strength 
to convey his message more clearly than any public address system. The 
troops fell into a parade rest posture, and focused on their new 
commander. "As I'm sure some of you are already aware, I am General Ron 
Chaffey, of the Provisional Psionic Army of the United States of America. 
We shorten that mouthful down to PPA around here." He waited for, and 
got, the chuckles he expected.

"You are entering the ranks of over twelve thousand soldiers fighting the 
FC forces in America. I can tell by the looks of you that all of you have 
already seen combat with these bastards. You'll see more. A good many of 
the major American cities are already in ruins: Philadelphia, Dallas, Los 
Angeles, Miami, Chicago, Seattle, San Francisco, Phoenix, Albuquerque, 
and more others than I'd care to list. Why certain cities haven't been 
touched yet: Washington, DC; New York; we don't know. What we do know is 
that sooner or later, unless we stop them, the FC will destroy every city 
in the country. It is our job, and you are now part of that 'our', to 
stop them from doing so.

"One thing you may not be used to is the presence of the medical corps." 
Ron pointed to a small group of people, dressed in jumpsuits patterned 
the same as the standard PPA uniform, but colored red with white accents. 
"This team, led by Colonel Susan Chandler, is what stands between you and 
certain death if the Russians get the upper hand on you. I don't know 
what we'd do without her and her crew, and they never get enough credit 
for their work. If you see one of them on a battlefield, afford them as 
much protection as you can: they are not well equipped for fighting.

"Well, that's about it. We don't know when the next big battle is coming, 
and so we will settle you in just as fast as possible. I don't know who 
it was that said an army runs on its stomach, but this one seems to run 
on its paperwork. The ladies are setting up the table there, and I need 
you each to register with them, so that we can fit you to an assignment. 
That is all. Dismissed."

As Ron stepped away from the position he had assumed to speak, one of the 
soldiers approached him. As the man saluted, Ron's memory snapped into 
play. Ron returned the salute. "Mr. Warfield, how good to see you again."

"Yes, sir. It's good to be here. Sir, I have a message for you." The man 
produced a small envelope with the royal crest on it. Ron took it, 
turning it over in his hands.

"Who is this from?" Ron asked astutely.

Tom Warfield smiled knowingly. "Well, let's just say the King isn't 
inviting you to tea." Ron nodded and thanked him before moving off to 
open the note. He read it slowly, absorbing the words, wondering why she 
had written them, and knowing, even as he asked himself the question, 
what the answer was. He walked into the house.

He found Lars practicing with Kim in the small back yard of the house. He 
stood watching them for a while, noting that Kim had improved even from 
the day before. As he watched, however, Lars took her down, rather hard, 
and she made no immediate move to get back up. It was at that point that 
Ron interrupted.

He walked over, but made no effort to help her up, feeling that would 
just embarrass her that much further. He did make eye contact with her, 
and confirmed that she was all right. He turned to Lars. "I have to leave 
for about a day, possibly two. One of our allies wants to talk to me 
about something. In person." Ron kept his voice completely neutral as he 
spoke, and neither of them made any comments about what that might imply.

"Yes sir," Lars answered as Kim got to her feet. Ron made sure she had no 
problems rising, ready to immediately assist with his extension if she 
wavered even the slightest. She didn't. "We'll handle things while you're 
gone. Are you taking anyone with you?" Lars knew that normally Ron
didn't travel alone anymore. He half-expected him to take Kim.

"No. This meeting is to be very confidential. Not to be publicized."

"If anyone asks where you are?" Kim asked.

"Tell them I'm in a conference with our allies."

"Very good, sir," Lars concluded. "Now then, Kim, are you ready for 
more?"

Ron said, rather quickly, "I think she's had enough for the moment. Take 
a break, and start again later." Lars nodded at the wisdom of that. Kim 
just looked at Ron, somewhat puzzled. First he acts as though he hates 
me, and now he seems very concerned about me. He is very hard to figure 
out.

Ron actually used one of the many aircraft now available to the PPA for 
his trip to London. They landed at Hereford, a military base outside 
London, because the Heathrow airport was in ruins. It was late, and Ron 
was tired, and so he again stayed at the small inn just outside of 
London. He was not scheduled to see her until tomorrow, anyway.

The next day, at exactly noon, he walked down a very specific stretch of 
sidewalk, and stopped next to a girl slightly younger than himself, with 
strawberry blonde hair and a face that had already launched a thousand 
fantasies.

"You wanted to see me?" Ron asked quietly. She had not yet turned to 
acknowledge him.

"It used to be pretty here. You know? The trees, and the grass. The old 
buildings, it all used to be very quaint and lovely. Now, it's..." She 
broke off her words, and he could see the tears in her eyes. He longed to 
hold her, but he didn't know if he had permission to go that far.

"Yes. The world is becoming a very ugly place because of them."

"Why?" she sobbed. "What could possibly make them do this? How could 
anyone be this... this heartless?"

"I don't know, Princess. That's a question I struggle with every day, and 
for more reasons than just my peace of mind. What do they want? What will 
they do next? I have no answers." His own thoughts were churning now, but 
as she grew more sorrowful, he just became angry. He turned his thoughts 
from these things. "I can't help you answer these questions. And I don't 
think they're the reason you brought me here."

She wiped at her eyes, and finally looked up at him. "No. It's not. I 
want to show you something, but it is some distance from here..." Her 
eyes asked without the need for words.

"Needing some transportation, are we? Well, let's go then." Ron lifted 
them both off the ground, and the princess quickly remembered the thrill 
of her last ride. She directed him northwest, and they flew for some 
time. When finally they landed, Ron saw what used to be a village.

"This is what I wanted you to see." She walked him over to a cemetery. He 
noted with dismay that the gravesites were impossibly close together.

"I don't understand. Are they buried standing up? Do you need that much 
space?" She merely directed him to read one of the markers. His mind did 
the math automatically, and then went numb with rage. He checked another, 
and another. None of them was over the age of three.

"While they kill many of the adults, they are killing all of the 
children! They hunt them down like rabid wolves, seeking them out of 
their hiding places. And then... then..." she broke down, weeping, and 
this time Ron didn't even hesitate. He wrapped his strong arms around her 
and held her, letting her sob into his chest. Without her even noticing, 
he carried her away from the place, back towards London. She wept 
throughout the flight, oblivious to the scenery flashing past her. By the 
time she calmed down from her crying, they were outside the inn where he 
was staying. There had been a few curious onlookers, but a thought had 
moved them away, and she and Ron stood there, together and alone.

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes free of tears. He looked down at 
her with an expression of tenderness and warmth. She wanted to melt into 
that slight smile, those caring eyes. She did, instead, the other thing 
she wanted to do. She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him full on 
the mouth. He gave no resistance as her tongue slipped past his lips, 
dancing across his teeth and colliding sensually with his own tongue.

They remained lip-locked as Ron maneuvered them into his room, shutting 
the door without using his hands, and making sure it was secured. His 
hands, meanwhile, caressed her back, feeling the soft skin beneath her
thin cotton dress.

Her hands clung to his back, clawing at his shirt as if to shred it off 
him. Their kissing grew even more passionate as Ron used his extension to 
unbutton her dress from top to bottom. She felt the fabric part between 
them, felt her now bare breasts pressing against him. She moaned as her 
heat rose.

Ron pulled her dress off her shoulders, and she let it fall off her arms 
and onto the floor. She gave it not a second thought as she slipped off 
her shoes. Standing before him in only panties and stockings, she stepped 
back from him slightly. Ron gazed at her form, enjoying the way her 
breasts swelled, the way her legs curved. She bent to slip her panties 
off, and he watched as her tits swung gently. Now, wearing nothing but 
her stockings, she moved back to him, and pulled at his clothing. She
continued yanking at it roughly until she had his uniform down to his 
ankles. She quickly unlaced his boots, and pulled them off, taking his
jumpsuit with them. She took far more care with his briefs. She ran her
hand gently against the outline of his hard cock, tracing it up toward 
the elastic band. She hooked her fingers into this and gently tugged it 
down past his hips. As she did so, his cock sprang free, and she gasped 
softly at its length. She finished pulling off his underwear, but her 
eyes never left his dick.

Her soft hand gently caressed his length, and she could see him shiver 
from it. She lightly gripped his shaft with her hand, slowly sliding her 
fingers up and down his length. She moved closer, and kissed the very tip 
of his cock with the tender caress of a baby's mother. Ron shuddered at 
the sensation.

The princess had never given a blowjob before; her parents, she was sure, 
would think it beneath her. But she knew that was a lie: it was just 
something you did to please your partner. She moved her mouth onto the 
head of his dick, and ran her tongue over the soft skin there. Then she 
slowly took him into her mouth. She slid down onto him until he hit the 
back of her throat, and her gag reflex started. She pulled off of him,
and then pushed her mouth back down. This time, she felt the reflex being 
eased, and his cock slipped all the way into her mouth, until her nose 
rested against the base of his shaft. She moved her tongue around his 
shaft while keeping it buried in her mouth for as long as she could. Then
she began to suck him vigorously.

Ron moaned with the pleasure of it. He had sensed her wish to do her best 
for him, and had helped her get past her gag reflex. Now he was glad that 
he had. This girl could give his sister a run for her money. The 
princess' lips moved quickly back and forth on his shaft, her tongue 
always in motion adding sensation to it. Ron knew he didn't have long 
before he would come. He delved in her mind, seeing what she wanted, and
so he let her go even faster on his shaft, until his cum spurted from his
shaft into her throat. She swallowed and slurped as he continued to 
spasm. She let not a drop of his cum escap