Beyond Armageddon: Book 02 - Empire (57 page)

Stone watched as Parsons turned and walked away, passing the checkpoint and returning to town.

Trevor felt sorry for Robert Parsons and the people of New Winnabow because they did not comprehend the horror at their doorstep. He felt sorry for his own damned soul because he did.

–

           
Shepherd walked out of his command tent on the afternoon of Wednesday, September 2
^nd
and stood at the side of Route 17. His division had been encamped at Spring Hill for more than a week.

           
At first, his men welcomed the respite after the fighting at
Raleigh
and the fast march to
Wilmington
. Those who did not have relatives following in the gypsy-like caravan of ‘groupies’ to the division’s rear used the time to write letters home. Others indulged hobbies such as art or music. Impromptu comedy acts and even plays popped up across camp. Whatever the choice, the first few days served as a nice rest for the boys.

           
However, the time dragged and morale suffered. Nerves frayed. Touch football games turned into tackle, poker games deteriorated into brawls, and boxing matches replaced talent shows.

           
Shepherd knew his men were restless. They had fought their way south. They had survived the battle of
Raleigh
. They had continued forward, poised to strike into the heart of the Hivvan holdings on Earth. Their bodies and minds remained tensed for combat.

           
If the order came through to stand down for re-fitting and R&R, great, the men would know that the action was over for a time. A brief rest for some chow and sleep? Also great.

           
But they had none of that surety. They only knew that they were supposed to be marching, but did not. They knew they should be engaging the Hivvans, but instead remained stationary in the middle of no where with no purpose, no goal, no sense of what was to come.

Shepherd rolled his neck around on his shoulders to work out a stiff spot, a sign of his own nerves. Those nerves came from intelligence briefings.

Recent reports clearly showed that the Hivvans had found their footing inside the pocket. Several formations had regrouped and were re-supplying via convoys from
Conway
. While 1
^st
Mech waited at Spring Hill, the enemy corps changed from bands of defeated stragglers wandering in the wilderness of central
North Carolina
, to combat groups mustering for a fight.

The balance of power was shifting. If the supplies from
Conway
continued to flow, the idea of a Hivvan counter-attack on
Raleigh
could become a reality. At this point, and with the 1
^st
and 2
^nd
Mechanized Divisions in their current positions, such a blow could set the war back a year; maybe two.

Shep closed his eyes and envisioned the colored markers on his strategic maps. He saw an invigorated Hivvan force reverse direction from retreat to attack. He saw them smash the garrison units at
Raleigh
and the frantic recall of both himself and Stonewall before it was their divisions cut off from supply.

The front would completely collapse and the aliens might push as far as the
Virginia
border before reserve forces or maybe
Prescott
‘s 1
^st
Armored could be called in to plug the leak, assuming enough fuel and supplies remained to allow operations of that scale.
   

           
Shepherd opened his eyes and spoke aloud to no one but himself.

           
“Easy…easy does it. Just wait a second.”

           
He reminded himself that one fundamental truth remained in his favor. The Hivvans depended on one supply point now. If Shepherd took out that junction, the enemy would be choked off. They could not move toward
Raleigh
. No matter how well organized, every army—even alien armies—needed food, bullets, artillery shells, and fuel. They would be trapped and subjected to artillery bombardment and a tightening noose of infantry.

           
He could reach
Conway
from New Winnabow in a day or two and finish the job they started, but only if they got moving. Shep knew Stone had flown to Parson’s town that afternoon and he expected the situation would be resolved today.

Cassy Simms ran toward him calling, “General Shepherd!”

           
“Yes, Captain, what do you got?”

           
“Sir, I just got off the horn with T-A-C. They told me Eagle One cleared local air space heading back north.”

           
“What? Why the hell didn’t he stop here? We’re just sitting around waiting for orders and he skips right over us and flies home? Did you receive any news?”

“No, Sir.”

           
“This is god damn ridiculous! We can’t sit around here any longer. We’ve either got to go forward or turn for home.”

           
She said, “No orders came through. The only reason I even heard about this is because T-A-C had to coordinate air cover for Eagle One through our sector.”

           
Shep clenched his teeth and grunted. Cassy Simms retreated a step, perhaps afraid the General might literally explode.

           
He told her, “I need air transport, now.”

           
“Where are you going, General?”

           
“To the estate to talk to Trevor Stone. One way or another, this has to end.”

–

           
The white airship codenamed Eagle One landed in a paved parking area adjacent to the cluster of single-story buildings comprising the
Belville
Elementary School
. A white wooden fence and big green lawns around the school gave the place more the feeling of a retirement ranch or country-themed motel than a school. However, the smashed windows and the overturned bus chased away any peaceful ambiance.

           
Route 133 ran by the school’s front entrance. On the opposite side of that road was another parking lot for a boat launch accessing the
Brunswick
River
. A Blackhawk transport helicopter had landed there; three soldiers milled around under the silent rotors.

           
Captain
Nina
Forest
walked alongside Trevor Stone as the two paced the center line of Route 133, the middle ground between their respective rides. The sun hovered just above the horizon, prepared to make its final journey into twilight. That, combined with the isolated location, the thick forest to each horizon, and the nature of their discussion, made the time feel more like night than day.

           
“Do you understand your orders?”
           
Nina nodded.

           
He thought,
do you understand that I am using you again? The only thing you can give me now is your killing nature.

           
Trevor knew she did not remember the time five years ago when he unleashed her to slaughter the Red Hand tribes infesting northeastern
Pennsylvania
and threatening his estate. He had been mean to her then; cold, punishing her for the blackness in his own heart.

           
Now he felt regret, even guilt, for sending her on a mission such as this. Since the theft of her memories, she was merely a tool in his arsenal.

           
My sword.

           
On his orders, she had killed countless aliens. He wondered if she would see the task at hand in a different light.

           
“
Captain
Forest
, do you have any reservations about the objectives or parameters of this mission?”

           
Judging by her reaction, his words smacked her nearly as hard as a punch.

           
“Sir, of course not, Sir.”

           
“Those aren’t Hivvans out there, or Red Hands.”

           
Nina asked him an interesting question: “Are they your enemies?”

           
That gave him pause. She did not ask if they were enemies of humanity but if they were Trevor Stone’s enemies, a more personal consideration. He nearly said ‘no’ but that would have merely been a nice lie. From the moment Robert Parsons decided to place New Winnabow between Trevor Stone and the cause he served, they had, in fact, become his enemies.

           
“Yes.”

           
“Then we’ll get the job done. You can count on us, Sir. Have the other arrangements been made?”

           
“Yes,” Trevor told her. “You may hear some chatter from local commanders between now and morning. Ignore it. They’ll have their answers soon enough.”

           
She understood.

           
Nina saluted, turned around, and returned to her side of the road.

           
“Nina,” he surprised her by speaking her first name. “Good luck.”

           
A few moments later, the Blackhawk and the Eagle lifted from the ground and went their separate ways.

           
Trevor sat back in his chair and gazed at the maps and written orders and statistics scattered across the top of his huge desk. All the trappings of an Emperor. His power measured in letters and numbers.

           
Outside the balcony doors, the sky remained pitch black although dawn would soon rise.

Inside his office on the second floor of the mansion, the only light came from the desk lamp, the glow of which cast over the gray mustache and hair of General Jerry Shepherd as he stood before his Emperor.

“Trevor, did you hear what I said?”

He answered in a mumble, “Yes, I heard you. I understand completely.”

Among the papers and maps on Trevor’s desk sat the most recent intelligence report. The Hivvans inside the pocket now received massive resupply through
Conway
. With these supplies and improving communications, that alien army would certainly strike at
Raleigh
in a few days.

Shepherd repeated, “If Parsons lets us through today, we can still complete the mission in time. Otherwise we have to pull back now so we don’t get our asses handed to us. I flew all the way up here because I have to have an answer, one way or the other.”

Trevor did not answer. He looked at the papers, he looked at the glowing lamp, he looked at the place on the floor where the half-brother he had not known existed died a few days ago.

For every Sir Lancelot in your blood, there’s a Genghis Kahn.

A soft rap on the door drew both men’s attention. Dante Jones walked into the glow of the desk lamp.

“I heard you were in town,” Jones said to Shepherd. “Then I saw the light.”

“Good, you should be here,” Trevor said and he stood up from his chair.

Jones’ eyes narrowed. He looked to Trevor to Shepherd, then back to Trevor again.
           

           
“Wait a second. Trevor, you can’t be considering blasting through New Winnabow. Are you? You can’t do that.”

           
Shepherd said nothing. Trevor asked, “Why’s that, Dante?”

           
“No…no,” the idea horrified him. He ran a hand over his forehead as if the temperature in the room suddenly rose to sauna levels. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen them. They’re people. They are human, like us. There has to be another way. We can find an alternate route. Maybe negotiate with them.”

           
Trevor’s voice remained calm as he replied, “We’re out of time, Dante.”

           
“Trevor, I know you. I knew you back when you were Richard. The man I’ve known all my life can’t murder innocent civilians. Not for any reason. You have to find another way.”

           
“The Dark Wolves are already in the air.”

           
Again Dante alternated his eyes between the silent General Shepherd and Trevor.

           
“What? Wait. Look, Trevor, Nina can’t take that town by herself. You need an army to do that. Trev, don’t do this.”

           
“It’s already done.”

           
Dante paced out of the glow of the light and then back in. He held his hands up as if trying to grab an idea that eluded him. He gasped in frustration, but then his eyes widened and he asked Shepherd, “Have you received marching orders?”

           
Shepherd’s answer came in the slow shake of his head ‘no’.