Trevor realized Dante sought reconnaissance in three different directions.
'Home Plate, what’s going on?'
'Um, Eagle One, I need a follow-up on reports we got from ground scouts.'
Trevor asked, 'What are we looking for?'
Silence.
'Dante, for Christ’s sake what did the scouts tell you?'
'Trevor, we have armies come at us. Three of them.'
– At twelve noon on June 1, Eagle One with Trevor Stone at the controls soared over the northern suburbs of Scranton. Below them, the ground moved like a slowly rolling tide: Red Hand tribesmen swarming south like locusts.
Thousands of them.
– They landed on one of the newly built pads by the marina on the far side of the lake. Nina and Trevor transferred to a Humvee and drove for the mansion.
'Three armies at once? I don't buy that as a coincidence. There must have been two thousand of those Red Hands. Probably take-hey, you awake over there?'
Nina’s head rested against the side window with her eyes shut.
Trevor skidded to a stop along the shoulder of the road.
'Nina! Hey, Nina!'
She bolted upright. 'What? What’s wrong?'
Trevor’s heart pounded as he told her, 'You were out.'
'Oh. Guess I fell asleep.'
She refused to face him; her eyes focused ahead.
He asked, 'What is it? Are you feeling okay?'
She redirected, 'C’mon, get going. We have to find out what’s going on.'
'Jesus Christ, Nina, has this happened before? Are you fainting?'
'Look, no big deal. I’m just not sleeping well.'
'Bull shit. I sleep next to you. How many times has this happened?'
'Just get us-'
'How many times, damn it!'
She stared at her hands saying, 'Three or four times, in the last two weeks…I think.'
'Have you talked to Johnny about this?'
'Listen, maybe I’m not eating right. Just a little light-headedness. We can talk about it later. I’m just saying we’ve got more important stuff now.'
Trevor glared at her and said, 'We’re going to get you checked out.'
'Yeah, sure, whatever, but let’s get moving.'
– Trevor, his council, the inner circle of military minds, and the pilots returning from reconnaissance missions packed into the Command Center.
Dunston, a slender black man from Prescott’s group with a background in flying med-evac Blackhawks for the Army, relayed what he had seen before fleeing anti-air fire. Trevor listened while his eyes studied the map spread over the desktop.
'They’re humanoid and marching in loose formations. They had some carts or something pulled by animals. Like horse and wagon stuff, except they sure weren’t horses.'
Trevor asked, 'Nothing motorized?'
'Couldn’t tell for sure. I didn’t see any air support, either. I did see something that looked like a catapult and that made me think of them as Vikings, but that's really not right.' The pilot chuckled and explained, 'I guess it's getting harder and harder to come up with new names for everything we run in to.'
'How many?' Brewer asked.
'At least a couple hundred, but they did a good job of staying under cover. I mean, until they popped out and started hitting me with something.'
Trevor called, 'Omar, get over to check out what hit Dunston’s Eagle.' Trevor then spoke to the pilot again: 'What way are they coming?'
Dunston leaned over the map and traced a line along Interstate 81.
'Heading north in the woods alongside the highway.'
Shep asked Trevor, 'And the Red Hands?'
'They’re coming south down Route 11.'
Prescott said, 'Maybe these Red Hand guys will fight it out with the Viking things.'
Trevor asked the other recon pilot, 'Bragg, what did you see?'
Bragg, another addition from Prescott’s group with experience flying Apaches and now alien air ships, stepped forward. He relayed his information in a firm, no-nonsense voice that matched his firm, no-nonsense appearance.
'Sir, some nasty shit coming our way from the east, Sir.'
'Let’s hear it, soldier.'
'Never saw anything like them, Sir. Some sort of machines. I don’t know if there’s anything inside of em’ or if they’re just…well, I think they’re robots, Sir.'
The information nearly sounded funny, particularly coming from a man who had managed to keep his army crew cut perfectly sculpted even after a year on the run.
'Car-sized, Sir. Like robotic cockroaches or something. Six legs each. Got some sort of machine guns on them. Wouldn’t want to be standing toe to toe with them, Sir.'
Brewer asked, 'Any artillery? Heavy weapons? Air cover?'
'No, Sir. I think each of these things packs a good wallop on its own. And the
Grenadiers, well, they can’t take a bite out these things. Sorry, Sir.'
Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose.
Stonewall asked, 'Did you ascertain their number?'
'I think seventy-five to one hundred, Sir. They were in the open pretty good but scattered across a wide front. They’re heading right along Route 115. Coming this way, slow but sure.'
Trevor traced his fingers over the map.
Brewer said, 'These Viking things and the robots are on a path that’ll bring them together outside the Wyoming Valley Mall where 81 and 115 intersect by the expressway. The Red Hands are coming down along the river.'
Dante hoped, 'Maybe they’ll run into each other and start fighting.'
Trevor sighed but it was Nina who said what was on his mind: 'Look, they’re not going to fight each other. They’re going to meet up and march right out here; one big happy army.'
Evan Godfrey interrupted, 'You don’t know that! They might just pass us by.'
Once again, Nina spoke for Trevor: 'They’re coming for us. This isn’t a coincidence.'
Evan moved from the crowd into the limelight of the conversation.
'Yeah, you’d just love that. Another reason to have another war. Can’t we go negotiate with them? We’re talking about intelligent races.'
Trevor replied, 'No.'
Nina said, 'These things meet up-what? — two days from now then they head out here.'
Shep voiced what they all realized: 'Reckon they would just overwhelm us.'
'Dante,' Trevor commanded, 'get your scouts out. I need updates on movement and headings and everything. Get them going. Now.'
'Yeah man, no problem.'
Stonewall said, 'May I make a suggestion? Some say the battle of Gettysburg was won on the first day.'
Jon Brewer’s knowledge of history forced him to correct, 'That was a three day fight.'
Stonewall conceded, 'Yes, but on the first day the confederate army's fate was sealed.'
Brewer followed Stonewall's thinking: 'The Union army occupied the high ground outside of town. The confederates spent the next two days attacking those positions.'
