Resistance: The Gathering Storm

“I guess that’s about it,” she concluded. “Thank you.”

As Barrie returned to her seat, Hale already was thinking about the mission ahead. Nash had been correct, the storage cube was important, and Hale wished that he had lived long enough to learn how important.

The familiar emptiness began to form in the pit of his stomach as he considered the coming battle. Clearly, the 5th Ranger Battalion would have a major role to play, but it would be up to his team to recover the fuel, and that—Hale realized—made him understand what he and Nash had in common.

A fear of failure.

Operation Iron Fist was going to involve nearly two thousand people, including support personnel, all of whom had to be pre-positioned, equipped for the mission at hand, and in some cases trained for specific tasks. So once the larger briefing was complete, the participants were directed to various conference rooms where topics such as logistics, materiel, and tactics would be discussed.

Hale was directed to a door with a “Command” placard on it.

Once inside, he saw that dozens of aerial photos had been taped to one wall while a detailed map of South Dakota took up most of another. As a former NCO only recently promoted to second lieutenant, he found himself nervous at being included in a meeting attended by the likes of Lieutenant Colonel Hawkins, his XO, Major Murphy, and a half-dozen other people, including Dr. Barrie. The glasses had disappeared for the moment, and as the two of them shook hands he was struck by how serene her eyes were. When Barrie smiled, Hale saw that a gap separated her two front teeth. A tiny imperfection that was endearing somehow—although he wasn’t sure why.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant,” Barrie said coolly. “Shouldn’t you give my hand back?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he let go, and hurried to escape as Major Blake brought another officer over to meet the scientist.

Having made a fool of himself, Hale was glad to take his place at the long conference table, only to discover that the same sergeant major was seated next to him.

“The name’s Guthrie, sir,” the noncom said genially. “It’s nice to know that the SAR team will be led by a Ranger. Even if he is wearing a funny-looking uniform.”

Hale laughed, and felt better now that he had a sergeant to protect his right flank. The two of them continued to chat until the meeting began.

“Time to get down to business,” Blake said from the head of the table. “Now that all of you are aware of the general outlines of what we’re going to do, it’s time to review the specifics. Colonel Hawkins…”

Hawkins was tall and lanky, so when he stood it took a while, and two steps were sufficient to carry him to the map. He had a collapsible pointer which made a series of clicking sounds when he extended it. Hawkins had brown hair that was starting to gray, a deeply lined face, and an eternally downturned mouth.

“We’re here,” he said brusquely, as the end of the pointer tapped the town of Valentine, Nebraska. “And the assembly point will be here.”

Hale followed the pointer to Chadron, Nebraska, which looked to be forty or fifty miles south of Hot Springs, South Dakota. “The plan calls for us to send a tank company north along the main highway,” Hawkins continued. “They will be supported by Lynx All-Purpose Vehicles, and by two infantry companies.

“That should bring most of the freaks out of the woodwork. Then, as they stream south to meet us, we’ll engage them from the east and west using troops dropped into position by VTOLs. And that’s when the fist will close,” he said grimly. “With any luck at all, we’ll kill at least a thousand of the bastards.”

Although Hawkins was technically senior to Blake, the Sentinel officer was part of the SRPA leadership team, which was responsible for the SAR aspect of the operation. So no one thought it strange when Blake spoke approvingly. “I think all of you will agree that it’s a good plan,” he said, “and one that’s likely to catch the stinks by surprise.

“However, as important as the conventional part of the operation may be,” Blake added tactfully, “the primary reason for pulling the enemy forces south is so that Dr. Barrie and Lieutenant Hale will be able to successfully penetrate the Chimera base near Hot Springs. And more than that, to find a fuel cell, and bring it out. Dr. Barrie?”

Hale was startled to discover that the civilian would accompany the SAR team, and the announcement set off alarm bells he needed to squelch. Having accompanied Captain Nash to the crash site on Bear Butte, he knew why Barrie was being sent. Still, the prospect of entering a heavily defended Chimeran complex with a female civilian in tow didn’t sit well.

Barrie was on her feet, glasses back in place, standing next to the montage of aerial photos. “This is the complex where the fuel is stored,” she said evenly, and pointed her pen at a cluster of cylindrical constructs, all viewed from above. “These pictures were taken by the pilot of a specially equipped Sabre Jet on a clear day before we made the find on Bear Butte. So things may have changed a bit since then. The complex was built to exploit energy from a geothermal tap. It’s fed to a standard tower over here—and from that location to a hub tower located near Rapid City.”

Having dealt with the system of Chimeran towers in England, Hale knew that they were often located near sources of geothermal energy, and were used to funnel the power to larger hub towers via physical conduits. Where, if scientists were correct, the energy was used to cool the Earth’s atmosphere, and for some other purpose that was still being studied.

“The tower complex near Hot Springs has another function as well,” she said. “The structure next to the geothermal tap, and adjacent to a building about which we have very little information, is almost certainly used to store nuclear fuel. Because only thirty feet of the facility extends aboveground, we assume that most of the fuel cores are located deep below, where they are safe from air attacks.” Then she paused. “Any questions so far?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Hale raised his hand. “Yes, ma’am… I notice that there appear to be four small structures positioned on those roofs. What are they?”

“You have a good eye,” Barrie said, as she touched each of the tiny blocks with the tip of her pen. “Those are antiaircraft weapons. Some fire missiles, others fire explosive projectiles, and all of them are dangerous.”

Hale didn’t like the sound of that. Not if he and his team were slated to arrive in a VTOL. But rather than voice his misgivings then and there, he decided to hold back and give the matter some thought.

The meeting—which was to be the first of many—came to an end shortly thereafter. Lieutenant Colonel Hawkins, Major Murphy, and Sergeant Major Guthrie left the room in order of rank. And as Hale rose to follow them, Barrie appeared at his side. The glasses had disappeared again. “Lieutenant Hale, do you have a moment?”

“Sure,” Hale replied. “What can I do for you?”

“You frowned when Blake announced that I’ll be coming with you,” Barrie said seriously. “You’re unhappy with that decision, aren’t you?”

Hale shrugged.

“No offense, Doctor, but it would help if you were a soldier.”

Barrie’s brown eyes locked with Hale’s yellow ones. “Like Captain Nash?”

“Yes,” Hale answered honestly. “Like Captain Nash.”

“You were with him when he was killed?”

“Yes,” Hale replied soberly. “I was there.”

“And he died bravely?”

It was a strange question, or so it seemed to Hale, and his eyebrows rose.

“Yes, very bravely.”

“That would have pleased him,” Barrie said evenly.

“I suppose it would,” Hale agreed. “Why do you ask?”

“We were engaged,” Barrie answered simply. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant… I may be female, and I may be a civilian, but I’m not helpless.”

And with that she was gone.