environments and Hunter-Killer teams would require armor and infantry support to clear those places.
Instead of becoming bogged down in urban pacification operations, Hoth bypassed those cities with the aim of wiping out the Plats first. Supply shortages, bad weather, a horrendous wave of flu in the ranks, and stiffening enemy resolve conspired to undermine his strategy.
So on Wednesday, January 19, as Nina walked from her tent in search of General Hoth, Army Group North sat idle east of Interstate 71 some forty miles southwest of Columbus. Horrible progress-or lack thereof-for an offensive that began last September.
On the other side of Interstate 71 waited a few more Plat War Skiffs and scattered infantry formations, probably the last the enemy had to offer but an obstacle that could not be tackled until the supply situation and weather improved.
Nina’s boots crunched on the frozen ground of what had once been a farmer’s field. Military trucks, tents, crates, fuel drums, and horse-drawn wagons turned that field into an encampment.
A freezing wind whipped across the porch of the upscale farmhouse serving as the General’s headquarters, causing a banner depicting a hand wielding a hammer to flutter violently. Nina moved between two shivering sentries and walked through the main entrance.
A wood burning furnace heated the interior filling the inside with a pleasant, almost maple aroma. Lighting came from lamps filled with whale oil harvested hundreds of miles away off the eastern seaboard and shipped via steam locomotives.
The farmhouse bustled with activity, no doubt because people preferred working inside as opposed to doing nothing outside in the cold, even if that meant dealing with General Hoth.
While others found the man short-mannered and overly stoic, Nina held him in high regard.
Like thousands of others, William Hoth vanished hours before the alien invasion began only to reappear years later encased in a blob of green goo, a phenomena now known as 'riding the ark.' In his case, Hoth had been teaching a summer course at West Point when the world took that sudden left turn.
A man of few words and even fewer facial expressions, Hoth wore broad shoulders and a wide frame. From a distance, he appeared a few pounds overweight. Closer inspection revealed a big-boned and solid fifty-something officer who could cut lesser men in half with a glare.
She walked into a large parlor where a billiards table served as the centerpiece of Army Group North’s operations room and a roaring Rumford fireplace cast flashes of light on a mounted moose head, dusty velvet curtains, and long-neglected antique furniture.
The folding tables, chairs, lap top computers, and communications gear from the military interlopers contrasted sharply with the home's original garish furnishings creating a strange mishmash of styles.
General Hoth stood near the billiards table dressed in woodland BDUs over a black turtle neck. At his side hovered General Casey Fink, commander of the newly-formed 4 ^ th Mechanized Infantry Division.
A large, muscular man, Fink could easily pass for a professional wrestler or a linebacker yet Hoth's presence loomed larger, regardless of a disadvantage in size.
Nina knew Fink had been career Army prior to the end-of-the-world. She also knew his post-Armageddon credits included inspired fighting during the Battle of Five Armies as well as an equally impressive performance as part of Jon Brewer's expedition more than sixteen months ago to capture the mysterious 'runes' at the top of the world.
Fink studied documents and maps while Hoth carried on a conversation via a radio headset. After finishing that conversation with a curt 'understood,' Hoth said to Fink, 'He confirmed contact. Estimates five hundred Roachbots around Cincinnati.'
Captain Forest stood at attention in front of her two superior officers. Hoth glanced at her saying, 'At ease, Captain.'
Fink said to Hoth, 'They're about fifty miles to our southern flank.'
Nina understood that five hundred of those SUV-sized robots equated to a substantial fighting force. She asked, 'Are they approaching?'
General Hoth answered, 'Not yet, but the book says they will attack once they are aware of our presence.'
Fink, who squared off against those psychotic, six-legged mechanical monstrosities during the Battle of Five Armies nearly five and a half years ago added, 'They can't resist a chance to harvest human brains. Must be a couple of assembly lines down there by Cincy.'
Hoth said, 'We have the assets to deal with five hundred Roachbots. However, it is another impediment to any progress we hope to achieve.'
Fink mumbled, 'That's been the story since this whole thing started. It's like this whole offensive has been nothing but bad news after bad news.'
Hoth halted Fink's complaint with a stern glare but said nothing. What could he say? Fink spoke the truth, something that everyone in the ranks felt; this mission had been cursed. Not rational and therefore not something Hoth would consider, but the series of obstacles, surprises, and missteps gave the entire undertaking a decidedly irrational feel.
Hoth told Fink, 'If Washington Court House is secure we can transfer the camp into town. I want you to confirm that the town is safe to occupy. I will realign our armor to face any threats from the south.'
Fink accepted his orders and marched from the room.
Forest waited silently while the General studied the tabletop map with seemingly glazed eyes. She knew better than to think he daydreamed.
It impressed Nina that she could hear the crackle of the fireplace. Impressed because half a dozen technicians and specialists worked in the room examining communiques, intelligence information, supply requisitions, readiness reports, and more. Yet they remained quiet enough that the burning kindling made the loudest noise in the room. No idle conversations. The command staff reflected the personality of their General.
'Captain, I want to make sure I understand the situation fully,' he went over again that morning what he had discussed with Captain Forest last night. 'Yesterday we received a radio communication from a group of survivors outside of Dayton, over thirty miles behind our front lines, warning of imminent danger to our entire Army Group. The voice on the radio specifically requests that you- Nina Forest — fly to her location to discuss this threat.'
Nina continued what the General started, 'She says she won’t tell us about the threat because she wants guaranteed evacuation to our lines, but she isn’t willing to wait until the whole force rolls over to her. She wants out now. She'll trade this info for extraction.'
He said, 'She will only trust you because you were good friends.'
Nina rolled the name from the radio around on her tongue: ' Jolene Crawford. I knew a Jolene Crawford during basic training. We bunked together for a while. The only thing I remember is she constantly complained about a bias in the Army against women whenever she came up short on a drill. I suppose maybe she thought more of me than I did of her. I’m just saying, I never thought of her or saw her after basic training.'
Hoth returned his attention to the tabletop and exhaled roughly; his version of a sigh.
She appreciated his frustration. Facing a host of Wraiths, or a Hivvan Corp, a pack of Jaw-Wolves, or the radiation signature of a Shadow would be preferable to this mystery. The entire operation felt like a stroll through a minefield. Nina wondered if they might not be better off extricating the entire army from Ohio and waiting until summer to try again.
Yet she knew that was not an option. It was the promise of victory-not embarrassing retreats-keeping the people back home from descending into anti-inflation riots or work strikes.
Those victories must keep coming because the people must have faith in the military. That military served as an extension of the Emperor and it was his power- his will — holding together the scattered settlements comprising humanity's hope for survival.
'Captain, what is your opinion of this request?'
Nina weighed her thoughts aloud. 'Seems to me I have to go through with it. I mean, if it’s The Order or something like that, they wouldn’t gain much by luring me into a trap. It doesn’t make sense to try and net me or even the Dark Wolves unit. On the other hand, it's been six and a half years since the invasion. Survivors tend to be desperate to get behind our lines, particularly if she knows something big is about to happen.'
The General stood silent for several seconds. Nina could nearly hear the gears turning as the man analyzed the situation and prepared a strategy.
