Message-ID: <29473asstr$985263001@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@news1.rdc1.bc.home.com> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail X-Original-Message-ID: <3AB999CA.77B38966@mailcity.com> From: wolf <twolf3@mailcity.com> X-Accept-Language: en,de 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 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/29473> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, newsman, english 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