Godforsaken Future - updated 10/31/2015

[guest]

Episode 11:




“Hence that general is skillful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend; and he is skillful in defense whose opponent does not know what to attack.”
-Sun Tsu








-2:23 PM July 16, 1986, Ghulam Khan, North Waziristan, Pakistan




General Boris Gromov sighed, he was not looking forward to this “are you ready sir?” asked his aide, Lieutenant Rosni.


Boris nodded “I'm about as ready as I can be” he sighed again.


Rosnik looked at him as he lifted himself off of the ramshackle bed he had slept in the past six weeks “for what it's worth sir, I don't think it's right, this was your command, these were your men, they can't just take you away from it now” he said.


Boris looked up at his aide “I don't think right figures into this war Viktor, not anymore, this is about survival; besides, they're right about one thing” he said, putting up his hands to stop Rosnik from arguing. He paused a second, then “Kabul is where the next fight is going to be most likely, not here, the front has been relatively quiet for weeks. Eventually the rest of the other Soviet troops here will be rotated away to other areas and there won't be much purpose for me here anymore, it's not like there's much left of the Khost garrison anyway” he said, a touch of sadness in his voice.


It had actually hurt to say that last sentence, the thought that so many whom he had commanded back in Afghanistan had not managed to make it this far, in fact less than a third of the total force that he had started with all those weeks ago was still alive.


The Red Army wanted him elsewhere now, his failed defense of Khost was considered the best performance of any commanding officer in the Red Army during this new war, as sad as that sounded. Kabul was considered the next most important command in the war, and command wanted their best general running the show there. Boris did not think of himself as the best general in any army right now.


He grabbed his bag off of the bed and walked toward the door, Lieutenant Rosnik making room for him. He walked out toward the front door of the small shack that he had called both home and headquarters over the past month and a half. A group of men lined both sides of the grimy hallway; his command staff, some Russian, some Pakistani, some Afghani. They stood at attention, he paused for a moment, then continued on, as he passed they saluted. Reaching the door, he turned around and returned the gesture.


Exiting the building he paused at what he saw there. What looked like close to a thousand men standing before him, all at attention. In spite of their ramshackle appearance, their dirty and grimy uniforms, their unshaven appearance, the tattered edges of their shirts and pants, they still looked as professional as if they were in parade ground shape. What was most breathtaking of all however was that not only were plenty of Russians there, but the Pakistanis and Afghans, even some Mujahideen too.


Colonel Kvachkov waited by the open door to the parked UAZ in front of him “the men wanted to say goodbye sir” he said “some of them couldn't make it, but whoever could get away to come see you off came today.”


Boris felt a bit of moisture gathering in his eyes, he was not the sentimental type, but the past few months had been a lot to take, and most of these men had been here for almost all of it. He walked up to the truck and sto by it, he faced the men. The door to his command post opened and he turned to see his command staff walking out to see him off one last time.


He sighed again damn this is hard he thought “many of you may know that I am not the sentimental type, and I'm not one to give speeches, but...” he paused for a second, considering his words “the past couple months have been unbelievable, and I don't think that there are a group of fighting men out there in the world who could have done a better job than you have. There are many who started with us who are now no longer here, they will be missed, and more importantly, they will be remembered.”


“You all will be remembered, history will recall the brave men who fought at Khost and the sacrifices that you all made. I am proud to have served with all of you, and I will remember this command for the rest of my life” he stood at attention and saluted.


The other men returned the salute in almost rehearsed unison, Boris then turned and entered the back seat of the truck. As the door slammed and the truck started up, his one thought was I sure hope there is someone left alive to remember this one day.







-3:18 PM July 18, 1986, five kilometers south of Tapaua, Amazonas, Brazil






Sergeant Che Bruno jumped over a downed tree trunk and then dropped to the ground just in time to hear the sound of a volley of spikes fly by overhead. He gave his Mossberg 590 a look over, then pulled back on the hand grip to eject a spent cartridge which flew out and hit the ground with a hollow sound. He then took a half a second to peer over the edge of the tree trunk before jumping back to his feet.

He spotted two charging warriors, took aim at one and pulled the trigger, the stock of his shotgun kicked him in the shoulder, he pulled back again on the hand grip. He saw something red flash across his peripheral vision as the spent round ejected from the weapon, then he pulled the trigger again. Just as he felt the recoil in his shoulder, he saw the charging monstrosity falter and trip, a big splatter of black shooting out of one of its legs. It continued on, but it was clear that the thing had had one of its legs crippled by the shot.

He turned his attention to the other creature. He put three more shots into that one before it went down, possibly dead. Without thinking he turned and ran, straight for another densely packed group of trees up ahead to take cover behind. He could hear screams all around him as other men ran for their lives, some of whom he saw, others he merely heard. Gunfire mixed in with the screams, adding to the cacophony.

Reaching the trees he shot a glance behind him to see if he could spot any more monsters chasing him. He spotted the hobbled warrior and took aim with his weapon, pumping out another spent cartridge and chambering another round, he took aim at its midsection and fired again. A splatter of black blood erupted from its body, not far from where the first slug struck it. He chambered the last round and fired once more. This time the creature fell and did not get up, dead finally. He now turned his attention to his empty weapon again, first ejecting the last spent casing, then pushing additional rounds into the weapon's internal magazine, each one making a smooth mechanical clicking noise as it went home.

Che heard the sound of something rustling the underbrush on the other side of the trees and steeled himself for another attack. He gripped his shotgun firmly in his hands and swung around the tree, bringing his weapon to bear on whatever monstrosity it was that he was sure was about to bear down upon him. However when his head came around the side of the tree, in stead of a black alien abomination, he saw a young man in fatigues carrying a FN FAL in two white knuckled fists.

The other soldier stopped short upon coming across a gun barrel pointed right at him, there was a second or two of pause as they looked each other in the eye. Then the other soldier quickly shambled past the line of trees and was standing next to Che. A quick glance at the other man's rank insignia told Che that he was a private “what's your unit, soldier?” he asked.

“I'm Private Joaquin Mendes, 22nd Infantry, I'm sure glad to see you sergeant!” replied the young man.

“The 22nd Infantry Battalion? What the fuck are you doing way the hell out here? I thought you guys were supposed to be on the north side of the river!”

“We were, but I got separated from my platoon and I think they might all be dead, I headed for Tapaua and-”

“Tapaua? That's our rally point, we should be heading back that way, we ought to be able to meet up with some reinforcements there-”

“Begging your pardon sir, but I wouldn't. The whole place is crawling with those damn things, I barely made it out of there myself.”

Che's heart sank, this was not good. The whole operation had gone to hell the second they had made contact with the enemy. His platoon with the rest of the 56th Jungle Infantry had been sent in to secure the area south of Tapaua and scout for enemy presence, but they started taking heavy losses almost immediately and a retreat had been ordered. Nobody knew where their lines were, or the enemy was, or what the hell was going on at all anymore. The whole damn situation was a complete cluster fuck.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of more screaming behind them, it was another warrior. The two of them quickly swung their weapons around and faced whatever it was that was on the other side of those trees. Che saw as some poor bastard was getting ripped to pieces by a warrior. Both of them opened fire on the beast, cutting it down in a hail of bullets. Far too late for the poor bastard it had attacked, who had stopped screaming and lay limp on the ground.

Suddenly, Che heard the sound of artillery screaming overhead. The two of them barely had the time to throw themselves to the ground before it shook violently and they were both pelted with pieces of rock, earth, and trees. Che got himself up first, though his ears were still ringing, he grabbed Mendes by the back of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. The ground continued to shake violently and big chunks of torn up earth and trees flew through the air as other shells impacted nearby. The sound was deafening and he was practically pushed over by the blast waves of the explosions as both he and Mendes sprinted away.

Mendes yelled something at him, but he couldn't make out a word of it between the ringing in his ears and the continuing barrage of artillery. He didn't even know what direction they were going in exactly other than the fact that it was away from where they had been. He just knew that they had to get clear of that area before an unlucky artillery shell found them both, if only they could just see further than ten feet away in the damn smoke that had settled in from the artillery strike. He didn't know where their ultimate destination was, he just knew that they couldn't wait around there to get killed by the aliens or some damned fool artillery officer.






-7:23 PM July 20, 1986, Needles, California, United States






“Do you think there'll be a draft?”

The question startled Kelly Vasquez, she and Bobby had been talking about music and TV and plenty of other things completely not serious. To jump to this subject was surprising, especially coming from Bobby. She considered for a moment, slid across the bench to get closer and looked at him “Um, I dunno, I guess it could happen. My dad told me about how he went before one of those boards back during Vietnam. What made you ask that?” she said, taking another lick from her ice cream.

Bobby looked down at his own ice cream cone “I... I was just thinking. I mean what if I get called and we don't get to see each other anymore? I could be away for like a whole year” he asked, a touch of concern in his eyes.

Kelly licked her ice cream again as she pondered the strand of twinkle lights which were strung across the framework of the awning attached to Daryl's Snack Shack “oh, don't worry about that, I mean what's the chance of that happening? I think you're just being silly” she smiled reassuringly, but she was a bit worried herself. She hadn't considered such a thing until just then, maybe Bobby was right to be worried? He was eighteen after all, and he had just graduated this past spring.

Bobby nodded “yeah, I guess you're right” he smiled back at her and took in a big mouthful of his own ice cream, some of it dripped down the side of his cone and onto his hands, he quickly swallowed and licked his hands and the sides of the cone.

Kelly swung around and looked over past the edge of the awning, its cracked and dried out edge shifted slightly in the cool evening breeze. The sky was a beautiful mix of red, orange and deep purple as the sun set, the faint cirrus clouds in the sky added to the picturesque scene. Kelly bit her lower lip for a second “y'know those bozos or whatever they're called? I wonder where they're from, you think they're from outer space like those ones from Aliens?” she asked as she bit into her ice cream cone. It was a bit soggy by now, but it still crunched between her teeth, she savored the crispy cool mushy consistency of it.

Bobby reached around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze “I dunno, ole Jack McCormack thinks that they're some kind of government conspiracy or something like that, maybe something the Russians came up with to fight the Afghani's. I also heard that Mrs. Carmody thinks that they're demon's sent from hell to punish humanity for their sins, she said that they're gonna kill everybody.” he said, a bit of a chuckle in his voice at that one. With good reason too, everybody knew that Mrs. Carmody was a nut, nobody took what she said seriously. Bobby continued “really I don't know, but as long as they stay in Minnesota and don't get anywhere near here I'm not too worried” he said, then he leaned over and planted a wet kiss on her lips.

Kelly felt a chill, she wasn't sure if it was from the cool breeze, Bobby's cold lips, or the thoughts brought to mind by his last statement. She kept hearing bad things on the news, and she heard Dad and Mom talking, they were saying that the government was going to declare martial law, and that they were gonna start rationing gas, like they did back in the seventies when she was a little girl. Kelly suddenly had this feeling that this would be the last summer ever, maybe not the last time that it would be summer, but the last time summer would be what it was to her when she was younger. There wouldn't be any more trips to the pool, no more lightning bug hunts, no more hanging out at friends parent's houses during barbecues, and no more sleeping in on weekdays.

She decided that she didn't want to think about it and pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and kissed Bobby back. After they parted, she returned her gaze to the sky and the beautiful sunset. The color was draining out of the sky and giving way to a deep purplish blue, the sun was setting on Needles, but it felt like it was setting on the whole world too.



-1:07 PM July 22, 1986, Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters, Langley, Virginia, United States


Edward McShane sipped his coffee, it was still a bit hot and burned his lips “so, let me see if I get this all straight” he said carefully. He took another sip of his coffee, winced at the heat, then put it down on the table in front of him “we’ve got these aliens, these tāziyāne who appeared in Afghanistan a few months ago using one of those portals” he said nodding toward Dr. Post.

Charlie nodded back “that’s right” he responded thoughtfully. Edward had been shocked to learn of OBSIDIAN WINDOW and its other resident programs, the idea that teleportation was possible was incredible, it was unbelievable that such incredible technology was at humanity’s disposal. Of course ground breaking scientific revelations had become standard procedure ever since the tāziyāne had arrived a few months ago.

He continued “they then proceed to set up shop there, seemingly grabbing up any kind of biological mass they can get their hands on; dead bodies, trees, wild animals, just about anything with some kind of cellular structure. At least that’s what we can infer from witness accounts and these-“ he indicated the scattered photos on the table before him “-satellite images from Afghanistan.”

“They know that humans are intelligent, at least that’s what we have been getting from our… ‘receptors’ over at DREAMWALKER” he nodded to James Randi this time.

Randi shifted in his seat “yes, as far as I can tell, they have been able to determine that these aliens regard humans as intelligent, although I wouldn’t say that that is anything special to them” he leaned forward in his chair and stroked his beard. Mr. Jourgensen cleared his throat and took a drag from his cigarette as he sat over in the corner, Edward thought that he was going to say something but he didn't.

Edward proceeded with his analysis “yet, in stead of bothering to try and even make contact with us, they immediately start killing anyone who comes near them. They’ve wiped out god knows how many villages, and an entire city in Afghanistan, as well as tens of thousands of Soviet troops. They take everything the Soviets have thrown at them; bombers, fighter jets, tanks, guns, whatever. They even manage to somehow take a nuclear explosion and teleport the damn thing from southern Afghanistan all the way to Spain.”

Dr. Post nodded once again “yes, the Soviets have started sharing information, and they tell us that the nuclear warhead they used had a yield of two hundred fifty kilotons, the explosion over Spain registered at considerably less than that. We’re guessing that the bozorgs used the energy from the explosion somehow to power the portal, possibly with some more energy bleeding off into another dimension during transit. How they managed to react so fast as to catch it that quickly we don't know, but more or less that’s about the size of it” explained the theoretical physicist.

Edward took another sip from his coffee, then “okay, so shortly after this, they manage to open additional portals in Germany, Brazil, and Minnesota where they have also spread in a similar fashion” he paused as he thought for a moment. He then picked up one of the satellite photos and pondered it for a second further “hmm… it’s almost like a Von Neumann Probe…” he muttered.

Carl Sagan put his hand up to scratch his chin in a thoughtful pose “you may have something there, I suppose it doesn’t have to be actually technological to fit the bill” he said as he gazed at something Edward couldn’t see on the table. Stephen Smale and Poul Anderson made sounds of agreement.

Jerry Pournell slapped his hand down on the table “sonovabitch!” he exclaimed.

Carl sat up, a look of dismay on his face “calm down Jerry, you’re not going to discount his theory out of spite are you?” he interjected. From almost the beginning of PROJECT BLACKBOX ; that was the code name for their new department at the CIA, certain divisions had formed between the people here. More or less they had fallen into three main groups; one consisted of Carl Sagan, Dr. Smale, and Edward. The other centered around Pournell, Dr. Post, and Matt Cromwell; the Exobiologist. James Randi and Poul Anderson had sort of formed a third group of ‘neutrals’ that had their own disagreements and agreements with both of the other groups.

Jerry shook his head “no, no, I’m not disagreeing with him, I actually think it’s a great theory, I’m just surprised nobody has considered it before” he said.

Mr. Jourgensen cleared his throat again, this time as a means of getting attention “excuse me, but would anyone else here mind cluing me in? What is a Von Neumann probe?” he asked, a look of confusion on his normally indifferent face, his expression was matched by James Randi.

Carl spoke up first “a Von Neumann probe is a theoretical machine which is designed to travel the universe for the purpose of exploration. Since the task of exploring the entire universe with one spacecraft would take an immense amount of time, and the task of building sufficient number to accomplish this task would also be momentous, it was theorized that a space faring civilization could build a self replicating automated space craft.”

“This actually is closer to Saberhagen’s ‘Berserkers’ though, which are actually a malevolent version that intentionally seek out intelligent forms of life in the universe and attempt to exterminate them. Most depictions of such a machine show it as something mechanical, a sentient machine of some sort, I suppose that this could be viewed as an organic variant” Carl fell silent, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Jourgensen stood up and walked over to the table, he put his cigarette out in an ashtray “so, you’re saying that perhaps some kind of intelligent species created the tāziyāne? Where do they fit into all this?” he asked.

Pournell spoke up “well, they may be long extinct. As I recall in Saberhagen’s books, the Berserkers were a doomsday weapon created by some long extinct race, much like that Star Trek episode” he explained.

Jourgensen raised an eyebrow “destroyed by their own creation?” he asked.

“Something like that” replied Anderson.

“Well, if you’re right, things may be far worse than we previously thought.”

The room turned to look at Sagan “well, according to James reports, specifically from that one sensitive; Mr. Moore, he described seeing evidence of more infestations in stars in another galaxy, a galaxy which according to his descriptions bears a strong resemblance to the Canis Major Dwarf galaxy. Now, I’m going out on a limb here a bit, but as I recall, Canis Major is notable for two things, first is that it is the closest galaxy to the Milky Way, the second is that it has a disproportionate amount of old spent red giant stars.”

Carl paused for a second to look around the room “normally that would seem to indicate that the Canis Major is a very old galaxy, but we’ve been getting evidence that the tāziyāne seem to be able to ‘suck’ energy from distant sources, nuclear explosions for instance, and Moore has been saying that he has been hearing indications from the tāziyāne that they had to ‘sacrifice’ some stars to cross over to this galaxy, whatever that means exactly. What if they have been ‘sucking’ energy from these stars in such a way as to cause them to burn up fuel more quickly than normal?”

The room was silent, realization dawning on each person’s face “you’re saying that these things aren’t just wiping out whole species, but they’re killing stars too?” asked Randi.

Poul gave the skeptic a serious look “what he’s saying boys and girls, is that we’re not just dealing with the possibility that these things are going to wipe humanity out of existence, but that when all is said and done, we may be dealing with the annihilation of the entire universe as we know it.”







-1:23 PM July 27, 1986, Ghazni, Ghazni Province, Afghanistan







Anoushirvan could barely hear anything over the deafening chaos running through the streets. Everywhere people were screaming, pushing and shoving. Cars and trucks stretched in a line as far as he could see, and they did not move one bit. A lone Afghan soldier hopelessly tried to direct vehicles at an intersection, trying to clear up the gridlock, but it seemed hopeless. A collision had occurred at the corner, drivers screamed at each other, screamed at the soldier, screamed at the sky, it was pure chaos. Everyone was trying to get out of the city, but it looked like no one would.


Things had been like this all day, ever since riders had come into the city from outside, bringing tales of the oncoming swarms of tāziyāne-ye bozorg. While many had left the city over the past few weeks, ever since they had heard of the horriffic things going on in Paktia Province, and the destruction of Gardez, but there were still plenty who had stayed.


His sister Farrukh tugged at his arm “Ano? Where are we going?!” she whined at him, he saw that she was having trouble keeping up with him, so he picked her up and put her on his shoulders. He would have to carry her, but it was better than losing her in this mess.


He quickly pushed his way through the throng of people, brushing by countless others who were all heading somewhere, anywhere that wasn't near this city. The real panic wasn't as much from the monsters themselves, they were scary enough as it was, but when rumor had spread that the Russians had fled the city the night before, that's what really frightened everyone.


Anoushirvan had to admit that he felt frightened as well, for years the Russians had walked the streets of Ghazni, carrying around those impressive looking rifles of theirs, riding around in their frightening looking war machines that bristled with intimidating weapons of all sorts. He had heard that the Mujahideen fought them quite effectively in the countryside, but he couldn't imagine how, and even so, the Mujahideen had never managed to drive the Russians out of the city. The thought that even the mighty Russian soldiers were too frightened to even put up a fight was almost terrifying.


He took a left and headed to the end of the block, then took a right turn, they were almost to the highway. It led all the way to Kabul which is where it was said that the Russians had fled to, that sounded like as good a place to go as any. If the Russians felt safe there, then maybe it was safe enough for Anoushirvan and his sister.


Farrukh tapped him on the head “you still didn't tell me where we are going, where?!” she demanded again.


Anoushirvan turned his head to the right in an effort to look at her as well as be able to direct his voice in her direction “we're going to Kabul!” he shouted in an attempt to be heard over all the noise. He turned down an alley where there was less congestion, hoping to make his way around most of the congestion.


More tapping on his head “are the monsters going to be there?” Farrukh asked, this time it was easier to hear her with less noise around them.


He turned his head to face her again “no Farrukh, there will be no monsters, it is safe there” he reassured her. She did not ask him any more questions, her curiosity satiated for now.


After about ten more minutes they had reached the highway, it was packed, even worse than all the other roads. Then he stopped, something stuck in his mind, something that was bothering him. He did not know what it was, but for some reason he felt extremely anxious about taking the highway. Everything that he knew told him that they should take the highway to get out of the city, they would probably be able to catch a ride on a truck or something, and it was the easiest and fastest way to get out of there.


He considered for a second, then turned around and started walking in the opposite direction, they would not be taking the highway, they would find a different path. “Ano, where are we going I thought that we were going to the highway?!” Farrukh was confused, he didn't blame her.


He pushed through a group of people trying to cram onto a bus and rounded the corner “no, we won't be taking the highway today Farrukh, we'll go a safer way” was his response.


After an hour of walking the crowds had thinned out and so had the buildings. The hills to the north had started to grow larger in his view.


After another hour they no longer walked on roads, but loose gravel and sand as they reached the edge of the city, he stopped and placed Farrukh on the ground “sorry little one, you're getting a bit heavy” he said with a sympathetic grin on his face.


Climbing the hills was hard, and he had no doubt that Farrukh was having trouble too, but for some reason he just knew that taking the hills was the better idea, he didn't know why, he just knew. Another hour had passed and soon they were nearing the top of one of the hills, they could see the whole city below them, it was quite a sight.


He could hear the sound of something disturbing the dirt and gravel just on the other side of a rock formation, he froze. Was it one of those monsters? Could they have made it all the way up here this fast? “stay here” he whispered to his sister and she nodded quietly.


Very carefully and oh so slowly, Anoushirvan crept around the rocks, trying to be as quiet as possible. Coming to the edge, he slowly poked his head around, and to his surprise and relief there stood a horse, a saddle on its back and no rider to be seen.


Sighing, he looked back toward Farrukh “okay, it's just a horse, come on” he said to her.


His sister got up and they both walked around the rock formation, suddenly Farrukh screamed and Anoushirvan's heart skipped a beat. Apparently the rider was still around; stuck in one of the stirrups was the foot of a dead man, blood covering the entire front of his shirt and protruding from his chest were a couple long pointy things of some sort.


Slowly approaching the horse so as not to spook it, he reached for the reins and grabbed a hold of them, the horse stirred slightly but did not panic. Following this, he reached back and removed the dead man's foot from the stirrup.


“Ano, what's that?”


His sister had wandered over to the edge of a rock outcropping which overlooked the city, she was looking down and pointing. Anoushirvan led the horse over and looked to where she was indicating “what's what?” he asked.


“That.”


But he didn't need her to tell him, he could see for himself, down along the outskirts of the city, he could see what looked like a bunch of tiny black dots moving across the land, like an army of ants marching toward a piece of discarded food.


Immediately his heart jumped, he grabbed his sister “what's going on?” she asked. Just then he heard something else, over the other side of the hill, he froze.


Seconds later some horrific monstrosity that made even his nightmares seem tame by comparison climbed over the edge. He thought quickly, then picked Farrukh up by her arms and planted her on the horse's saddle. She screamed when she saw the thing, and behind him he heard the creature let out some kind of hideous roar, he knew that it was charging toward them as he heard its feet disturb the gravel beneath it.


Farrukh looked at him with pleading eyes “come on Ano! Lets go!” she screamed.


He looked back at her I'm sorry “I love you Farrukh, head north and don't stop until you are in Kabul!” he yelled at her as he slapped the backside of the horse with all his strength. His sister screamed as the horse galloped away.


Quickly he turned to face the creature, he knew that he wouldn't survive, but he had to let Farrukh get away. It lunged at him and he quickly dodged to his right, as it recovered he made his own lunge, jumping on the creature. The sudden force of his jump threw the creature off balance and they both tumbled down the side of the hill.


He felt something tear at the flesh on his stomach as they both tumbled to the ground. Pain shot through his knee and then his arm. Finally they both came to a rest near the foot of the hill, the creature landing some distance away. He tried to get back up, but when he put weight on his right leg he heard a snapping and felt an excruciating pain just before collapsing to the ground. He looked down and saw his knee bend in an unnatural way and blood flowed from a wound in his stomach, he didn't know if it was from the monster's giant claws, or one of those jagged rocks along the hillside he had just fallen down, it didn't matter.


The creature got up from the spot where it had stopped tumbling, it was apparently not as hurt as he was. It seemed to gain its bearings, then turned around and faced him. He could still hear his sister sobbing off in the distance, he only hoped that she was far enough away to avoid being killed. Quickly the monster took two giant bounds and was upon him. Just before it forced one of those giant claws through his skull, he was able to say a prayer for his sister, that she might survive this.




-some time in July 1986, Unknown Location


This Iteration and the others on the new world were succeeding quite well, the intelligent samples on the world were fighting back quite thoroughly, but they were being worn down as quickly as ever. The central incursion point was quite strong, with well established infrastructure and defenses, any attack would prove to be quite futile, The Mind was quite certain of that.


The other incursion points however weren't quite so strong, they needed to rely on mobile production capacity rather than the much more efficient and productive static infrastructure that was present at the central location. While the intelligent samples at two of the secondary incursion points seemed to be attempting to quarantine off the spread of The Mind and using their ballistic projectile weapons for defense.


These iterations had conferred and they had concluded that the third incursion point was quite possibly the strongest candidate for switching priority. It seemed to be featuring the weakest defense of all, and was crowded with the most dense collection of biomass thus far encountered. It was expected that stable conditions would soon prevail there and that static infrastructure could soon be laid down.


Meanwhile the defenses at the other locations while manageable were still concerning, perhaps the last few unused construct variants would be needed after all. Further deliberation would be necessary.

[LadyTevar]

Of course it's going to focus on Amazonia.

[The Vortex Empire]

I feel sorry for the Amazon. So much biodiversity will be lost...

Oh well, firebomb the shit out of it I say. That would deny these things most of the biomass, assuming they don't have some way of dealing with that.

[guest]

Episode 12:




“You hit somebody with your fist and not with your fingers spread. “
-Heinz Guderian






-3:38 PM July 27, 1986, southern defense perimeter, Kabul, Afghanistan






General Gromov surveyed the defensive lines, some faint artillery fire could be heard in the distance, but overall the area was relatively peaceful. Well, they look at least as secure as the lines in Khost, although we certainly have more troops he thought. He walked over to a machine gun emplacement and observed as the soldiers there efficiently serviced their weapon.

A messenger approached and handed Colonel Georgy Flerko; his second in command, a piece of paper. The colonel unfolded it, read it, then folded it back up and dismissed the messenger. Boris looked at his executive officer expectantly as the man approached him “it would appear that Colonel Marchenko has abandoned Ghazni without a fight, the city fell two hours ago, it doesn't look like too many escaped alive” he explained.

“He did what?!” Boris looked at him in disbelief “where is he?” he demanded.

“He arrived with this message, apparently he is back at headquarters this very minute.”

Boris turned on his heel and stormed off.







-3:52 PM July 27, 1986, Red Army Regional Command, Kabul, Afghanistan







Two junior officers exiting the command center stepped aside the second they laid eyes on Boris. He was in an extraordinarily bad mood at the moment, and made no issue about hiding it. The door to the command post swung open violently as he shoved at it, the hinges groaning in protest, a loud smacking sound rung out as the door slammed into the wall violently, extra cracks forming in the already decrepit plaster.

Boris quickly surveyed the room and spotted a colonel with a somewhat absent look on his face waiting next to the entrance to Boris' office. Like a surface to air missile, he zeroed in on the waiting colonel.

Spotting Boris' approach, the colonel's eyes lit up expectantly “ah General Gromov! It is an honor to finally meet you, I-” he was cut off in mid salute.

“Colonel Marchenko I presume?” Boris nearly spat the name.

The colonel nodded as he finished his salute “yes, that is correct sir, I-” he was again interrupted.

Boris opened the door to his office “please step inside” he said, contempt dripping from his voice.

The colonel complied promptly, upon entering, Boris slammed the door, he did not wait for the colonel to sit down “please inform me colonel just what in the hell it was you were thinking when you abandoned Ghazni?” he said, his eyes could have practically set the other man on fire.

Marchenko had a somewhat confused look on his face “I was ordered to retreat from the city and regroup here I-”

“You were told to evacuate the city in short order. You were supposed to assist the civilians in getting out of there, in stead you waited two days and then abandoned the city without a fight and didn't even bother to warn the populace. What in the name of Stalin's testicles could possibly have been going through your mind at the time?”

“I was... I was merely trying to preserve the strength of my forces so they could be employed in the defense of Kabul, I-”

“You have got to be joking, even ignoring the moral repugnance of your actions, you seem to have completely forgotten the fact that these creatures use biological mass as a resource. That means plants, animals, dead bodies. You didn't just cede territory to the enemy, you literally gave them access to more than forty thousand people that will be used to create more of those damned monstrosities. You might as well have just wrapped them up like a parcel and mailed them to the enemy.”

“But I was merely preserving the lives of my men, that city would have fallen one way or the other, and perhaps if I had received reinforcements like I had asked, such a course of action would not have been necessary” the colonel shot back with a petulant tone.

Boris paused for a second, he was actually shocked at the sheer audacity of the man to actually try to push the blame onto someone else when he was already in this much shit, it was almost like the man was too stupid to live.

“Do, not, interrupt, me, colonel, and do not dare to try and shovel your guilt off on someone else, your shame is great enough already without you trying to dodge responsibility for your own cowardice!” the colonel winced at that last one, it clearly hurt, good. Boris continued “you were given your orders two days ago, and yet you did not see fit to act on those orders until this morning. You would have done better to just shoot all of those people and cremate their bodies, at least it would have been more merciful and denied the enemy resources.”

“As far as the actual morality of what you have done goes, I don't even know where to begin, the blood of more than forty thousand innocent people is on your hands because you are too much of a damned coward to do your duty in the first place.”

“All things considered, I don't even know what kind of punishment would be apt for what you have done. But unlike you, I will do the best I can in spite of the circumstances” Boris' eyes bored a hole through the colonel who was now literally cringing in anticipation “as of right now you are to be reduced to the rank of private-” Marchenko reacted as if punched in the gut “and you will be assigned to the southern defensive perimeter with a rifle company, if you survive this, you might actually be fortunate enough to get assigned to a penal battalion.”

Boris paused for a second to let it sink in “do you understand Private?” he asked, putting extra emphasis on the man's new rank.

Merchenko would not make eye contact “yes sir” he said sheepishly.

“Good, now get out of my sight.”

The other man meekly made his way toward the door and exited, closing the door gently behind him.







-6:38 PM July 28, 1986, 10 kilometers west of Sheykhabad, Kabul Province, Afghanistan





Farrukh clung to the mane of the horse tightly as it gently trotted along. She could hear its ragged and uneven breathing, the horse had been going along for a day straight without stopping to eat or drink, just since she had first mounted it, but it could have been walking along for even longer than that.

Of course, she had not had anything to eat or drink in that time either, her stomach ached from the hunger and her mouth was dry and had a horrible taste in it. Her eyes were sore from crying for hours on end, but at least now it seemed like she no longer had any more tears left in her to cry out, so she no longer could cry, but in stead merely felt horrible all the time.

She didn’t know how she had managed to avoid being eaten by any of those creatures since escaping from home. Since Anoushirvan had put her on this horse and sent her away and he had died. She felt a stabbing pain in her heart at that thought. However she didn’t cry, but she did let out a pathetic whimper, her voice cracking due to her incredibly dry throat.

Suddenly she was gripped by a strong sense of despair. She realized that she didn’t know what she was doing anymore, her brother was dead, just like Mother and Father, she didn’t know where she was and didn’t know where she was going, she hadn’t seen anyone since escaping from those monsters the previous day, and it was going to be getting dark soon.

Releasing the horse’s mane, she allowed herself to fall from the saddle. She struck the ground with her shoulder which suddenly shot jolts of pain throughout her whole upper body. She didn’t cradle her hurting shoulder, she didn’t cry, she merely lay there on the muddy ground with her eyes staring up at the gradually dimming grey sky. The horse merely continued on at its slow pace.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, but after a while, she could hear the sounds of hooves hitting the ground. This time though it sounded different from her horse, this was at more of an even pace, not the slow staggering gait of her exhausted mount. After about a minute or so, the horse came to a stop and she could hear the sound of someone hopping off of it onto the wet ground. The rider approached and came into her view after about a minute, he was a man, he dressed ruggedly and had a gun strapped to his back.

The man looked down at her, a warm smile showing through his thick beard “what have we here? A little lost rabbit?” he said in a cheerful tone. Farrukh didn’t say anything, she merely lay there staring up at the sky “come on now, let us get you someplace safe” said the man who bent down and scooped her up off of the ground gently.

He carried her over to the horse and sat her down on the ground next to it while he reached up to the saddle and grabbed a canteen off of it. Opening the cap he placed the canteen up to her lips “drink it” he ordered. She merely sat there silently, staring back at him vacantly “drink” he said with a stern tone, still she didn’t respond. Sighing he grabbed the back of her head, pressed the cantine up to her lips, and proceeded to tilt it; pouring the water into her mouth, much of the water ran down her chin however.

Choosing not to choke, she at least swallowed some of the water “there, see, it is good yes?” the man said, the friendly tone returning to his voice. He was right, it did make her dry throat and parched lips feel better.

The man picked her up after another couple sips of the water, and sat her down on the horses back, after which he mounted the horse as well, right behind her. Proceeding to ride off, they traveled for about fifteen minutes or so, at least that’s about as long as Farrukh could tell.

They came to small encampment, consisting of perhaps a couple dozen men with tents and horses. Another man with a large gun in his hands walked up to them as they approached “what have you brought us this time Mehrang?” he asked.

The man called Mehrang swung his leg around and dismounted from the horse “I’ve found us a little rabbit, I think she escaped from Ghazni” he said as he walked up to the other man and they clasped hands

Mehrang then returned and helped Farrukh off of the horse “and what is this ones name?” asked the other man who approached with his gun resting on his shoulder. He smiled down at her, she did not like the look in his eyes, there was something wrong with it.

She remained silent and clung to Mehrang’s leg “look Shaya! I think you’ve scared her” Mehrang said with a chuckle. He looked down at her “alright rabbit, I think it is time to take you to see the other children” he said warmly as he pulled her off of his leg.

They walked into the encampment, these men must have been quite wealthy, because they all seemed to be quite well armed with shiny new looking weapons, not like the beat up old rifles that she sometimes saw Pashtun tribesmen carrying around. They were also comfortably dressed with clothes that looked kind of clean and appeared to be of the same tailoring that she had seen on Russian soldiers, in fact if not for their language and their appearance, she would have guessed that they were Russians. Some of the men sounded like they were also speaking a different language, it didn’t sound as different as Russian, but it was definitely different. They must have been foreigners.

Mehrang took her to a small area next to a large tent at the heart of the encampment, there was a grouping of about a dozen other children, most looked no more than a couple years older than she did, and some also looked a bit younger. They were all sitting around in a circle eating out of some metal dishes. The warm aroma of food filled her nostrils and suddenly she remembered her empty stomach.

They stopped just outside of the circle of children “say hello to your new friend, I call her rabbit, she doesn’t seem to like talking, maybe you all can change her mind” said Mehrang, the other children looked up, some waved, some said hello “be nice to her, she is now part of our family” he finished. He then brought her the rest of the way to the group and sat her down next to a young girl about her age, then walked away.

The young girl looked up at her “hello, I’m Hasti, what is your name?” she asked with a friendly tone.

Mehrang had returned after about a minute with another of those metal plates and handed it to her “here you go rabbit, eat up, you don’t want to starve now” he said in that same warm tone, then left again.. She felt the warmth of the food in her hands and it had a generous portion of palao, qorma, and a large piece of naan on it. She had not seen so much food on a single plate in such a long time, it was so surprising that she merely stared at it.

“Well the food won’t get in your belly if you just stare at it” said Hasti.

All of a sudden, as if the food had appeared out of thin air just that instant, Farrukh started to devour the food, stuffing it in her mouth almost as fast as she could chew and swallow it “slow down there! It’s not going to jump off the plate, and don’t worry, they feed us well here, these are good men, they’ve rescued all of us and kept us quite nicely” Hasti said as she returned her attention to her own plate.

After a few minutes of munching Farrukh felt that sense of despair reduced, although it was not completely gone. Finally she spoke “I’m Farrukh” she said with a mouthful qorma.

Hasti paused for a moment and looked back up at her “oh, so you do have a name, I’m glad that I don’t have to call you rabbit from now on” she said with a small laugh.

“Why do they treat us so nicely?”

Hasti pondered that for a moment “um, I don’t know, I think that there are these foreigners who heard about all the bad things happening to children here and sent these men to save as many as possible” she explained cheerily.

A group led by a tall but skinny man with a thick beard and a white Lungee on his head approached. He surveyed the group of children and spoke to the other men in that same foreign language “ who’s that?” asked Farrukh.

Hasti looked up at the newly arrived group “oh, that’s Uncle Osama, he’s the one in charge, he’s so nice.”






-9:23 AM July 29, 1986, seven kilometers southeast of Devlin, Ontario, Canada







The young private walking point came to a halt, his hand rising to indicate that he had spotted something what now? thought Lieutenant Charles MacTaggart. The man went into a crouch and aimed his rifle at something in the bushes up ahead which Charles couldn’t see. Then the bushes started to rustle, an instant later a large black monstrosity burst forth and charged at them.

The young private opened fire first with his FN C1, a half a second later he was joined by the other members of the platoon. Two more creatures emerged from the bushes just as the first had started to falter and collapse under the weight of the platoon’s fire.

Charles raised his own rifle and took aim at the beast on the right. His rifle barked as he unleashed four rounds at the oncoming monstrosity, then he fired another burst and then another. Globs of black muck splattered out from the torso and limbs as it collapsed onto the ground.

Five more creatures burst forth from the copse of trees to the right, followed quickly by a group coming out of the brush to their left “Squad A, swing left and lay down some covering fire on that bunch over there!” he shouted and pointed as a group of his men quickly scrambled to get into position.

More creatures jumped out of the foliage ahead of them shit! This one might be for real. He gestured toward corporal Boucher who lugged his rather heavy pack over towards Charles. Reaching his destination, Boucher spun around and Charles reached into the corporal’s rucksack pulling out a handset for a TA-312 field radio.

Placing the handset up to his ear he screamed into the mouthpiece in order to be heard over the gunfire “Charlie Two Eight, this is Charlie Seven Three, please come in Charlie Two Eight! We’ve got hostiles, over!” he waited for a response.

The line crackled and then he could hear a voice over the line “this is Charlie Two Eight, say again Charlie Seven Three, you have contact with Tango Bravo? Over” came the reply.

Charles reached into his back pocket and produced a map which he held in one hand as he examined it “that is correct Charlie Two Eight! We have heavy contact with Tango Bravo! I am requesting immediate air support at map coordinate-“ the firing ceased.

He quickly looked up from his map and saw that there were no more alien monsters charging their position, the sudden silence was thunderous.

“Say again Charlie Seven Three, you are requesting air support at what coordinates?” the radio operator’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Wait one Charlie Two Eight”

Charles looked over the area “everybody sound off!” he called out, and obediently each member of the platoon called back good, everybody had survived this time. A quick inspection of the surrounding foliage revealed that there were no additional monstrosities waiting for them out of sight “cancel that air support Charlie Two Eight, looks like another false alarm” he said into the radio and hung up the handset.

Sergeant Beasley approached him “looks like the second false alarm today, fifth this week” he said.

Charles screwed his face up in a grimace “damn this is getting annoying” he said.

The sergeant looked up at him “sir?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Charles shook his head “all these false alarms, every time we think we’ve stumbled onto a real big nest, it’s just a minor outbreak. I’d almost say that they are intentionally jerking us around” he explained.







-5:28 PM, August 3, 1986, one kilometer south of Dobel, Black Forest, Federal Republic of Germany





Private Jason Almond gripped his SA80 as he carefully walked through the woods, nervously looking through the trees. His platoon passed the burned out hulk of a dead bozorg, one of the big ones, a “fire beetle” as he had heard them called. While he had heard them talked about in hushed tones as if they were thoroughly intimidating monstrosities, this one had been mostly dismembered, with a giant hole blown through it's abdomen by at least one direct impact from a fairly large artillery shell.

As he surveyed the surrounding woods, he saw countless burned out and torn up trees, some with their trunks stripped bare by fire and explosions. The whole area had been devastated by more than a month of constant artillery bombardment. So far the only sign of non plant life they had encountered since entering the woods had been the burned out carcass of the massive creature they were currently passing. Not only had they not seen any signs of the bozorgs, but they hadn’t heard the sound of a single animal, bird or insect. In spite of the lack of enemy contact, it was quite creepy, the silence felt… unnatural.

Three days before, bozorg counter battery fire had ceased, and not a peep had been heard from inside the entire Black Forest, almost as if they had finally given up. As such; following massive amounts of continuous artillery bombardment just to make sure, the powers that be had decided to send someone in to take a look and see what was going on. Unfortunately, Jason's platoon had gotten the dubious honor of being the lead platoon to head into the woods.

Private Piven had walked over to the carcass, he kicked some dirt on it “this old beasty doesn’t look so bad, had a bit of a run in with the big guns eh?” he said derisively.

Sergeant Tatem was not pleased “quit all that bollox and get a move on, we’re not here to sight see!” he bellowed at Piven.

Piven rolled his eyes and kicked another bit of gravel at the burnt out carcass, then continued along.

“Sergeant, I’ve got something”

It was Corporal Smith, he was crouched over by the edge of a crater left by an artillery impact. Curious, Jason wandered a bit closer himself to get a look at what Smith had found.

Getting about three meters away from the corporal’s position, he managed to get a look at what appeared to be a tree stump, but it was covered in some kind of weird stuff that looked veiny and red and pretty disgusting. The stuff covered just about all of the tree stump and extended about ten or twenty centimeters out over the surrounding ground. Sergeant Tatem was now standing next to Smith “what’s all this then?” he asked, looking at the stump.

Smith shrugged “I dunno sergeant, it looks like some kind of growth, like a fungus or somethin’” he said.

The sergeant pondered the strange find for a second, then “Lieutenant Jackson!” he called to the platoon's commander.

The lieutenant approached at a quick trot “you’ve found something interesting sergeant?” he inquired.

Tatem was about to respond when someone screamed off behind Jason. He spun round and saw someone collapse to the ground, one of their arms missing and blood spewing out from where it had once been attached. When he looked to see what it was that had done the deed he had trouble focusing.

He couldn’t quite make it out, but it looked like it was about the size of a tall man and was black with what looked like bright green stripes or blotches or something. Not waiting a second further, he raised his SA-80 to his shoulder and fired, clear view or not.

At almost the exact same instant, just about the entire rest of the platoon opened fire as well. The thing; whatever it was, started to falter, but not before reaching another poor bastard who had his stomach slashed open, spilling his entrails out onto the burnt ground.

Immediately after felling its second victim, the creature had clearly had enough and it collapsed to the ground in a heap. Suddenly Jason no longer had any trouble focusing and he was able to get a better look at what it was. It bore some resemblance to the warriors he had seen in the news footage from Afghanistan and the information booklets that had been passed out before they had shipped out of England, except this one appeared somewhat bigger, with longer scythes at the ends of its ‘arms’ and its legs appeared sturdier. However the most notable difference was the exoskeleton which wasn’t merely a metallic black like the warriors, but was covered in bright green stripes, kind of like a zebra or tiger-like pattern.

Private Piven was closest to the corpse of the strange thing “what the fuck was that thing?!” he exclaimed.

Sergeant Tatem raised his hand quickly “quiet!” he hissed “…listen” he said quietly.

At first Jason couldn’t hear anything, and he looked around too, but the air was thick with dust and smoke from the previous days of artillery bombardment. There could have literally been an entire army sitting quietly out there and they wouldn’t know it. Finally, after about a second he could clearly make out a gentle rumbling. A few seconds later he could feel a faint vibration through his feet “what the hell is it?” Jason asked to no one in particular.

“Oh shit!” someone else exclaimed.

Looking in the direction of the exclamation, Jason could just barely make out a lot of movement amongst the trees deeper into the forest. At first it only looked like some vague movement, but he could soon make out trees getting knocked over and dust being kicked up “everyone! TAKE COVER!” barked the lieutenant.

Just then Jason felt a sharp pain in his chest and right arm “agh!” he screamed out in pain. Dropping his rifle, his left arm went up to his chest where the pain was the most intense, he looked down and saw three pencil sized objects protruding from his chest and upper arm, blood flowing copiously from the spots where they protruded. He heard others screaming, possibly suffering from similar wounds.

He paused for a second in a daze, most likely from the shock, and his head was spinning. Then he clumsily started to shamble over toward a fallen tree trunk for cover, but he tripped and fell after taking about three steps. When he hit the ground, it drove some of the spikes further in, extracting another scream.

He pushed himself up from the ground and looked down to see a puddle of crimson pooling underneath him. He felt someone tugging at him to help him to his feet, but their grip loosened and he saw whoever it was fall to the ground with about a dozen or so of those spikes in his back.

Jason heard the sound of gunfire and men screaming, but it sounded muffled, and his vision was starting to get fuzzy. He looked up and saw Sergeant Tatem along with about a half dozen other men taking cover behind a large rock and firing their weapons at something behind him.

Finally he managed to get to his feet and took a step, but that was all before he felt a sharp pain in his neck and then lost all feeling in the rest of his body. He saw the ground get closer and was spinning around. He was able to see a massive wall of hideous black monsters coming at him as well as what he thought looked like a headless body before everything went black.






-5: 48 PM August 3, 1986, outskirts of Pforzheim, Baden Wurttemberg, Federal Republic of Germany





BOOM!!!!!

The ground shook violently and debris flew everywhere, pelting Lieutenant Mark Jarvis painfully. Brushing the dirt out of his face, Mark took a look over in the direction of the blast and saw a jagged crater in the trench about thirty feet to his right. “Shit!” he cursed, where there once had been five men, there now was only a gaping hole in the earth “sound off!” he bellowed.

One by one they responded, all in all seven men had failed to call back dammit. Ten minutes before their first platoons sent into the woods to scout it out went quiet, five minutes after that the first of the tāziyāne artillery strikes started hitting their lines.

“C Squad!” he shouted “redeploy to fill that hole!” he pointed toward the freshly created crater. Sergeant Murkowski started bellowing a combination of expletives and orders, men started to move to fill the new gap in their line.

Mark didn't know how long they would wait, but all signs indicated that the enemy was approaching incredibly fast. He inspected his M16A1 as he walked down the line “everybody be ready, don't wait for any orders, if something moves in those trees, kill it!” he shouted.

He shook his head, he could still hear ringing in his ears from that last artillery strike, after a second he realized that it wasn't ringing, it was something else. What sounded like the roar of a massive river was growing louder by the second, Sergeant Murkowski looked over at him and Mark met his gaze, a look of uncertainty on each others' face. Almost as if opening a door on the noise, the sound suddenly became much clearer. Looking up, Mark saw as something like a massive swarm of insects, impossibly thick rising over the treetops.

He tried to make out what they were, but there were just so many of them. Then what must have been hundreds of dragonflies rose above that swarm, their deep buzzing noise joining the sound of the other creatures that preceded them. After rising some undetermined height above the treetops the entire cloud of unidentified creatures started to dive down in front of the trees. Giant holes were blown in the cloud by massive explosions, at first Mark thought that it was friendly AAA fire, but he heard no AA guns nor did he see any SAM's rising up to meet them, as more artillery strikes impacted into the line, he realized that the tāziyāne were firing into their own forces.

Finally the humans did respond as bright tracer fire went up accompanied by the rapid fire rumbling sound of huge numbers of M247's opening fire along with the deeper thumping of oerlikon 35mm cannons, attempting to take down the incoming fliers. Missiles went up too, white smoke trailing behind them. The mixture of rushing water sounds and deep low buzzing was joined by the drunken uneven noise of some of the fliers dying and falling to the earth.


He heard the sound of an M-60 opening fire, shortly afterward, other small arms fire joined in, Mark raised his own rifle to his shoulder and started to squeeze off three shot bursts at no particular target, just into the oncoming swarm, it wasn't like there was much space to miss. Soon it sounded like the entire line of defenders had joined in, and he had already expended his first magazine. He quickly ejected the empty and popped in a fresh one.


In what was probably less than thirty seconds, the ‘cloud’ was upon them. That's when he finally managed to make out what they were. He realized that the rumors of 'kamikazi bugs' that he had been hearing about over the past few weeks were true “take cover!” he screamed, he himself waiting until the last possible second while he tried to down as many of the oncoming creatures as possible before finally diving behind the wall of sand bags.

Loud popping noises sounded out as the first kamikazis impacted on the ground and in the trench all around them. Men started screaming, first just individuals here and there, then in twos and threes. The screams and weapons fire joined together in a symphony of misery and horror. Mark could see spots on the ground where the ‘acid’ or whatever it was had splattered and the dirt itself turned into some kind of unrecognizable mush, its chemical composition changing into something completely different.

Then volleys of those horrible spikes started arriving, impacting into the ground in massive hails of death and pain. More men started screaming, this time their screams lasting longer as they took longer to expire from bleeding to death rather than having the skin melt off of their bones.

Off in the distance he could hear the thumping of friendly artillery as it continued the duel with the aliens. A blast rang out nearby as another enemy barrage arrived, but not as close as the last one. After what seemed like an eternity the swarms of kamikazis thinned out, the popping noises of their horrific suicide runs tapering off to just a few scattered here and there. Mark then climbed back up to get a view of the situation.

The roar of jet engines finally joined the cacophony, he looked up in the sky and saw a wide variety of aircraft; F-16s, F-18s, Mirages, and so on twisting and maneuvering in some aerobatic dance of death with the dragonflies in the sky above. Bright orange explosions as some of those jets died cast an orange glow on the ground below, their noise barely audible over the sounds of battle down on the ground. He turned his attention back to the line of trees; not two hundred yards distant, that's when he saw the first of the fireballs arcing over the trees.

The volley of flaming projectiles landed all along their lines, some landing behind them, some in front “LOOK OUT!” someone screamed. Looking up, Mark could see one fireball in particular heading right for their position. Reaching for the nearest man, he grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him away just in time to avoid being caught by the massive ball of flame.

Almost unbearable heat washed over him, bright yellow glowing liquid splattered all over the inside of the trench, one glob in particular barely missing his head by a few inches, and two more men screamed in agony as Mark saw the flesh melting off their bones. Their screaming finally died down about a minute later.

The sound of an M-60 going off rang out once again, it was quickly joined by the sound of assault rifles. Further away he could hear more weapons joining in. He climbed back up to the edge of the trench and peered over the sand bag wall to see what looked like a black surging tidal wave moving through the trees. It was hard to make out details, it just looked like some chaotic mass of moving limbs and other unidentifiable shapes. The ground rumbled, not just from the explosions of incoming artillery fire, but from the huge churning mass of hideous creatures as well.

He suddenly heard a rapid succession of wump sounds as god knew how many mortars opened fire, they were quickly joined by the deafening sound of hundreds of 105 and 120 mm tank guns firing. The ground at the edge of the tree line exploded as a literal torrent of mortar rounds and tank shells obliterated everything that dared occupy the space at the edge of the woods. Trees that had survived the previous weeks of artillery bombardment splintered and fell.

More cannon and mortar fire erupted, the lead wave of oncoming creatures had just cleared the forest and were in the open land when they disappeared under the weight of firepower directed at them, and yet more charged through the clouds of dust and smoke.

More barrages of weapons fire of all kinds obliterated more creatures, and still more additional monstrosities merely marched over the remains of their predecessors, seemingly oblivious to the devastation wrought on their predecessors. More jet engines rumbled, but this time closer, then a deep long belching noise managed to rise above the rest of the chaos. The next line of oncoming warriors and centaurs were obliterated by a hail of 30mm gatling fire. Immediately afterward a huge swarm of A-10's swooped overhead, unleashing a massive barrage of what looked like Mavericks just before peeling off and returning back the way they came, some losing control and crashing, not a massive number, but more than should have. Some crashed in the no mans land, others beyond the tree line.

The impacting missiles added to the hellfire already wrought by the tanks and mortars, but the swarm got closer still. Mark tried to think of any orders that he could give, but he knew that there wasn't anything that he could tell them to improve the situation. His men knew their jobs, they knew what was to be done. It didn't take a tactical genius to see the only possible solution was 'kill as many of those bastards as possible before they kill you.'

The rumbling of the A-10's faded and was replaced soon after by an even louder rumbling, this time it sounded like the entire air force was flying low overhead. He looked over to the right to see an incoming flight of B-52s beginning a dive, some started to fall from the sky, hit by suicidal dragon flies. The massive waves of bombers stretched so far that he couldn't see how far they reached, but it was well beyond the edge of the tree line, it must have been hundreds of bombers. He could see that their bomb bay doors were open, and shortly after, he registered the tiny falling shapes of bombs as they left the massive bellies of the huge bombers.

Gigantic explosions erupted from the ground below the bombers as the first bombs hit, the explosions coalesced into a wall of fire, advancing across the no mans land, killing everything in their path. Even as the bombers unleashed their payloads of death, more of them fell from the sky, but still the bombing run continued, the remaining bombers did not deviate. The explosions got closer and closer “everybody down!” Mark ordered just in time for them to get behind the protection of the sand bags.

The air seemed to literally turn solid as an unbelievable amount of sonic energy was unleashed upon them combined with the explosive energy from the bombs themselves. Sand bags toppled into the trench and they were all pelted with debris which had returned to the earth after being launched into the air mere seconds before.

Without waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop, Mark rose again to face the battlefield, but all he saw there was smoke and smoldering craters, it looked like stock footage of the First World War. Nothing moved in the space between the lines and the trees, and in fact the tree line appeared to have moved back a good twenty yards somehow.

Silence fell over the battlefield, its suddenness made the quiet seem actually louder than the sounds of battle. Nothing emerged from the burned out and ruined forest, and nothing moved out there in the no mans land either.


Time dragged by at a crawl, the only sound that was audible was that of the aircraft in the sky and the artillery behind their lines. For a moment, he thought that perhaps they had given up, but he was soon disappointed as signs of movement appeared between the trees again after a short while. Soon, more creatures were emerging from the forest to start the assault anew.

Realizing that his weapon had run dry, he ejected the magazine and popped in yet another just as he had done before, and just as he would do countless times in the future, as long as he managed to survive this day.

Again the process continued, with thousands upon thousands of beasts rushing across the battlefield toward their positions, and the defenders unleashing a hell fury against the creatures to stop them from reaching the other side. Glancing at his watch, Mark was shocked to realize that while it had felt like hours had passed since the action had begun, it was not even a half hour later.

When the swarm had managed to cross just over half the distance to the defensive lines, Mark noticed the first of the giant beetle looking ‘fire bugs’ that he had been informed of before. For a moment he was a bit confused why had they waited until now to send those things in? The mass of giant beetles was huge, it looked as if a gargantuan wall was advancing on the backs of the countless warriors and centaurs that were charging them, there didn't appear to be a single gap between any of the gigantic beasts either.

Understanding dawned on him a moment later after he looked over to see Private Santana fire off an AT4 into the oncoming horde and the rocket hit one of the centaurs. They're using the swarm as fodder to draw fire away from the fire bugs he thought. Without any further hesitation he headed over toward Santana who was picking up a second missile launcher “private! Forget about the little ones, concentrate on the BIG bastards!” he shouted.

He also realized that they must have been waiting for the bombers to make their run, it was too much of a coincidence. It would be a while before they would be back with fresh payloads, he didn't know how, but he was sure that the creatures knew it.

The young soldier looked over at him and nodded curtly as he put the weapon up to his shoulder and took aim. About a second later, a missile streaked out from the front of the launcher and struck one of the advancing behemoth's while it was preparing to launch yet another of those horrible fireballs. The ensuing explosion didn't seem to do a significant amount of damage, yet it did cause the creature to falter in its aim and in stead of launching a fireball in a ballistic trajectory, it fired directly into the creatures in front of it which caused a large fiery explosion to blossom amongst their ranks. The creature itself caught on fire soon afterward as it walked into the lake of fire of its own making.

“Hooah!” the battle cry arose amongst the platoon as they celebrated that small victory, Mark patted Private Santana on the shoulder “outstanding shot Santana!” he said in congratulation.

That success was short lived as yet more beasts filled the hole left by the death of the fire bug. Mark hoped that others would also make the same judgment call, and soon too. However that realization seemed to have eluded most as tank and artillery fire still pounded on the smaller warriors and centaurs in the front, largely ignoring the fire bugs.

He ran over to Private Jenkins who was holding the TA-312 radio set. He abruptly grabbed the handset out of the private's hand “Kilo Five-Seven, this is Kilo Nine-Four, it is possible that Tango Bravo is using infantry type forces to act as a screen for their heavies, I recommend that anti-tank and artillery assets be trained on the heavies, repeat, infantry forces appear to be acting as a distraction to allow the heavies to get closer, over!” he blurted out over the radio.

The earpiece crackled after about a second “roger Kilo Nine-Four, we have similar recommendation from other field commanders, orders are being passed on down to concentrate fire on enemy heavy elements, over” came the response.

“Roger Kilo Five-Seven, over and out!”

Almost as if on cue there was a visible shift of tank and artillery fire from the middle of the no mans land into the swarm and onto the heavy fire bugs. Unfortunately they had already crossed more than a third of the no mans land and didn't appear to be slowing down.









-6:47 PM August 3, 1986, NATO field command post, Pforzheim, Federal Republic of Germany







General Attenberg leaned over the tactical map laid out on the table before him “this is going to be bloody” he said to no one in particular. Dust became unsettled and fell onto the map from the ceiling as the building shook from yet another blast, the lights flickered.

Lieutenant General Colin Powell leaned forward in his chair “that one was bigger than before, they're getting closer” he said.

General Sir Martin Farndale reached over to pick up a phone which had started ringing, after muttering a few things and listening for a couple minutes he hung it up again. He sighed and looked out over the map “it's been confirmed, the brunt of the enemy push is focused almost exclusively on the northern perimeter, specifically here at Pforzheim, I was just on the line with Colonel Partridge with the 20th Armoured Brigade, they've been taking a real pounding. He thinks they have suffered upwards of forty percent casualties” explained the British general.

“Jesus” said General Powell.

Wolfgang frowned “tell Partridge that he must hold, if the cordon is broken they could get to Nuremberg before we can stop them, if not further” he declared.

Farndale shook his head “no need, he has already said that he will do his best to hold, he knows the stakes just as well as anyone else here” his voice was solemn.

Powell pounded on the desk with his fist “all the willpower in the world won't do much good if he suffers too many more losses” he said, his voice grim “if this keeps up we will most likely not be able to physically hold the line” he sounded determined. He paused for a second, then “they've been pressuring the whole rest of the perimeter too?” he asked.

Farndale nodded “yes, I'm afraid so, not as tough as up north here, but they've been getting a constant flow of attackers ever since the offensive started. I suppose we could start pulling some armoured forces out of there, they're less necessary at those locations.”

Wolfgang contemplated the map for a few moments “very well, we'll pull the Second Armoured Division, and the 66th Armored Regiment and shift them up north, and just pray the enemy doesn't shift south before we can anticipate it” the other generals nodded in agreement.

Farndale took a deep breath “alright, but we're getting rather thin just about everywhere else now, we have got to reinforce the cordon, I think we'll have to go to NATO command and request that we completely strip the rest of our forces along the Iron Curtain” he said.

Powell made a humorless chuckle “hell, I wouldn't be adverse to asking the Russians to come over and pitch in, I'm open to just about anything right now” he rapped on the table again for emphasis.

Wolfgang ruffled his brow in contemplation “actually Colin, that might not be an entirely bad idea. It is at least something to consider anyway” he said. Farndale said nothing, but he didn't disagree either something to consider indeed.






-9:28 PM August 7, 1986, somewhere along state highway 174, Amazonas, Brazil






Che fired three shots straight down the highway towards the direction of the inhuman shrieking. He hopped up from his spot and sprinted forward “come on!” he yelled at the soldiers on the roadside as he passed them. The rest of the squad followed suit.

Passing two tāziyāne carcasses lying on the asphalt they came to an overturned pickup truck behind which they took cover. Looking behind them, he could make out the rest of their platoon running across the highway at a diagonal path “push forward! Push forward!” yelled Lieutenant Borges. They took up position amongst the trees and underbrush on the opposite side of the road.

Che peeked around the side of the truck, he thought it looked clear and started to motion his squad to start moving again. Then he froze, up ahead he thought that he saw something moving, it looked bigger than the average warrior “wait!” he hissed, pulling one unwary soldier back behind the truck just before he heard the sound of metal clanking under the impact of a volley of spikes slamming into the wrecked vehicle's undercarriage.

A couple screams could be heard on the other side of the road, clearly some of those men had not been so fortunate. Corporal Reis leaned past the rear end of the truck and fired a couple bursts from his FN FAL in the general direction of their attackers. Che pushed three more fresh shells into the magazine of his Mossberg shotgun to reload it.

Che took another look down the highway and got a good feel for the distance to their attackers. Then he grabbed one of his grenades, pulled the pin, took a step back, and lobbed it toward the enemy. Pressing himself up against the roof of the truck again, he waited to hear the resulting explosion which predictably came a couple seconds later, after which followed an inhuman scream damn that was a lucky shot.

He swung around the side of the truck and fired a couple shots in the direction of the vague shapes he saw down the highway. Others joined in as he heard the sound of automatic rifle fire from both his side and the other side of the road “move up!” he heard the lieutenant shout.

The whole platoon swung into action, jumping out from their cover to advance up the road. The other men jogged in short bursts, pausing occasionally to fire at the enemy. Che heard the sound of more spikes impacting on the asphalt near him followed shortly after by additional screams.

Realizing that one of those screams had been right next to him, Che stopped “hold on a second” he ordered the rest of his squad, they halted as he walked over to the fallen man. Crouching next to the downed soldier, it took him a second to realize that it was Lieutenant Borges. Checking the man’s pulse revealed that he had none, and the expanding dark spot around the body combined with the two spikes protruding from his left eye socket confirmed that he was certainly dead.

“Shit! It’s Lieutenant Borges” he said to no one and everyone at the same time. The others in his squad exchanged curses. This was getting ridiculous, he had already had one platoon shot out from under him the first couple days after arriving out here, and he had only been assigned to this one two days before, this also meant that he was in charge now “shit” he repeated.

Reaching into the lieutenant’s bloody shirt, Che pulled out the chain with his dog tags on it and detached one of them “alright, let’s go” he said. They proceeded to advance up the road to join the rest of the platoon.





-4:56 AM August 12, 1986, Flint, Michigan, United States






The phone rang once, Roger Dearborn stirred in his bed but did not wake up, then it rang again. Mary groaned, she nudged him with her elbow “phone, Roger” she said groggily. He still didn’t quite wake up, so she nudged him again, this time harder “get the phone” now her voice was a bit grouchy.

Roger rolled over “alright, alright!” he protested as he reached over toward the night stand. Fumbling for a few seconds he accidentally knocked the handset off the receiver in mid ring. Finally he picked it up and placed it up against his ear “yes?” he said, his voice still a bit rough.

“Roger, I need you to get down to the plant as soon as possible” it was Tony Landry.

Roger rubbed his eyes as he sat up “Tony? What the hell are you talking about? The plant’s been closed for six weeks” he said, irritation in his voice.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a second, then “yeah, I know, it’s been reopened” he said flatly.

“What? How?”

“I dunno, I just got a call from the governors office about fifteen minutes ago, I was told that the plant was to be reopened, and that we are to start work on retooling for building tank engines or something like that.”

“The governors office? Tank engines? Tony, is this some kind of joke?”

“Hell if I know Rog, but the gentleman that called me seemed to imply that it was considered important, and that we would be sorry if we didn’t go along with it.”

Roger paused for a moment “alright, give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll be down at the plant in about forty minutes” he said.

“Okay Roger, I’ll see you there, but first I’ve got about a hundred more calls to make.”
Roger hung up the phone and got out of bed “what was that about?” asked Mary.

Roger opened his dresser and started to pull out an undershirt “the plant has been reopened, sounds like motor city is about to go to war.”







-2:08 AM, August 18, 1986, Ghulam Khan, North Waziristan, Pakistan







“Alright, hold it right here” Lieutenant Markov ordered as the truck came to a halt. Hopping out of the vehicle, the lieutenant walked over to the broken down bus blocking the intersection, Nikolai shifted in his seat trying to get a look at what was going on through a gap in the canvas.

Aleksie leaned over next to him “what's going on?” he asked.

Nikolai shook his head “I don't know, give me some space would you?” he said, annoyed.

The hood at the front of the bus was open and it looked like an old Afghan man was working on something in the engine compartment. Markov was saying something to the Afghan who was making some wild gestures, apparently they were having a disagreement. Suddenly the lieutenant started shouting, his weapon was drawn.

A flash of light engulfed the bus, the Afghan, and the lieutenant. The entire transport truck jumped violently and bright light shined through several dozen new holes that appeared in the canvas covering the back of the truck which was now filled with the screams of dying men.

Nikolai's ears were ringing and his head pounded in excruciating pain, but he could faintly hear the sound of gunfire coming from the outside of the truck. Grabbing his rifle he got out of his seat, only to slip on the blood which covered the floor, he fell right on his face, blood splattered all over his face and his chest. He got himself back up and crawled to the back of the truck where he threw himself out onto the ground below.

About a half dozen others had managed to hop out as well and were taking cover on the right side of the vehicle, firing around the sides. Aleksie had grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him around to the other side of the truck as well. Trying to get his bearings, Nikolai gripped his rifle and peered around the truck and down the street, he saw several Mujahideen taking cover behind a car and inside a small building about a block away, popping out to take shots at them.

Nikolai took aim and fired, he didn't hit anything, but it made him feel better anyway. Suddenly he saw something move on one of the rooftops down the street, he just managed to pinpoint its location before he noticed the faint glimmer of metal, it was an RPG launcher. A puff of white smoke erupted from the end of the launcher and a missile streaked out toward the truck “RPG!” he cried and dashed out from behind the truck which exploded a fraction of a second later.

Bts of metal and concrete pelted him as he fell to the ground and his back got incredibly hot. He tried to shake the dust out of his head and he started to get back to his feet, just about everyone else was laying dead on the ground around what had once been the truck. Aleksie crawled toward him, blood pouring from his forehead.

Suddenly the Mujahideen fighters were charging his location, Nikolai fumbled around for his rifle and managed to pick it up. Taking aim, he looked back down the street, but now there weren't any Afghan rebels, they were tāziyāne warriors, and there were dozens of them, Nikolai pulled the trigger, and one of the warriors stumbled and fell. He fired again, downing another one. Afghan civilians were running, some caught by the alien monsters which proceeded to eviscerate them violently.

Soon the warriors were upon him, he got up and started to run, but pain suddenly shot up through his leg “akh!!!” he cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Looking down at his leg, he saw that it abruptly ended a few centimeters below his hip, blood squirted out of the stump.

His blood pooled on the kitchen floor, mixing in with the shards of the broken plate “you stupid piece of shit, look what you did” his father said, a look of disgust on his face. Ania cowered in the corner, crying “you should have died in stead of your mother” Father spat on him. A vicious grin on his face, Father raised his scythes above his head and slashed downward, decapitating Nikolai.

An unpainted and cracked plaster ceiling stared back at him, his heart was pounding and sweat dripped down his face. Nikolai looked across the room at the rest of the sleeping men, checking his watch he realized that it was still only about quarter past two in the morning. He massaged his temples between his thumb and forefinger “shit” he whispered.

After laying awake on the floor there for another twenty minutes, opening his eyes, he sat up. He scooped up his rifle and walked out to the door to go take a walk. He didn't much feel like sleeping any more.









-4:58 PM August 21, 1986, southern defense perimeter, Kabul, Afghanistan





Lieutenant Baranski reached down and held up a moderately sized cardboard box “if you will all pay attention, I will show you all how to use these upgrade kits for your Kalashnikov assault rifles” he started to explain. The assembled group of soldiers grumbled and cursed “each one comes equipped with all of the necessary parts to upgrade your standard issue AK-47 rifle to be re-chambered for the 76 x 54mm rifle cartridge, a much more effective round for dealing with the most common of bozorg variants” he said calmly.

The crowd continued to make noise and joke around “if you all shut up and listen to the lieutenant, you'll be able to kill the bugs much easier!” bellowed Sergeant Patsayeva.

The soldiers quieted down a bit “well why didn't you just say so in the first place?” asked someone else, the rest of the group laughed. The sergeant nodded to Baranski who proceeded with the demonstration.

About fifteen minutes later each one of them now held a reassembled kalashnikov rifle, a thicker more intimidating barrel protruding from the front of each weapon. Each soldier admiring their now more deadly implements. Lieutenant Baranski spoke up again “now, you have each been given a new supply of magazines containing the newer larger rounds, if you have any additional magazines with the old ammunition, you can exchange them for new ones that are carrying the larger cartridges, any additional quest-”

Gunfire sounded out to the south, accompanied by the sound of artillery fire “looks like the other team has finally decided to come out and play, good thing we have new toys to show them, now get your asses to your positions!” yelled the sergeant. The assembled soldiers quickly grabbed up their weapons and hurried on their way, the siege of Kabul had finally begun.

[guest]

and this brings us up to the "present" each update now will be completely new as opposed to merely being a cleaned up version of an already posted episode, the bad news is that this means that the updates will be taking longer to be posted.

Anyway, here are two new maps to show the situation areound the end of August and beginning of September.

first is Afghanistan:





second is Minnesota:




Red is the territory that has been completely infested, pink is territory that has been merely overrun, the dark green line are the American/Canadian defensive lines, and bright green is the territory that isn't overrun, but has lots of roaming bands of bozorgs.

[guest]

I feel sorry for the Amazon. So much biodiversity will be lost...

Oh well, firebomb the shit out of it I say. That would deny these things most of the biomass, assuming they don't have some way of dealing with that.

The problem with that is that we know how aircraft fair in close proximity to infested areas, and while the Brazilians can deforest the areas surrounding the infestation, the area that is already under bozorg control has more biomass in it than any other infested area on the planet, they can get more than enough forces from that to thoroughly overrun the surrounding areas.

However the Brazilians' real problem is that it took them so long just to figure out the general area where the infestation is taking place that they don't know just where exactly it all is. The remoteness of the region is the biggest disadvantage right now, there are very few roads leading into the area. They can start bombing the forest, but they don't know exactly where to bomb. Not to mention that the amount of munitions required to successfully devastate a sufficient area will be massive. And defoliants merely kill the plants, the bio mass will still remain.

[guest]

Episode 13






“Teamwork is essential; it gives the enemy someone else to shoot at.”
-military proverb





Received: from !obsidianhost!darpahost!obnet.workhub.westloc.gov([146.189.225.183])
by bobgriggs@obsidiannet.workhub.westloc.gov
to: <philsheckly@quivernet.centralhub.eastloc.gov>
date: thursday, August 28, 1986, 8:23 AM
subject: new project


Phil,



I trust that you got the memo from the folks over at BLACKBOX yesterday. Find a way to prevent future tāziyāne incursions here on earth; aren't asking for much are they?

Anyway, Dr. Frohman has told me that this is top priority, and all other projects have taken a back seat to this one objective. We've got about a dozen or so serious options that we're working on. During our spitball session last night I suggested that we should look into 'jamming' the wavelengths that the tāziyāne are using for teleportation.

Therefore I'm going to need you to run some simulations on a few different ideas that I've worked out. Attached to this E-mail are a couple files with some preliminary numbers that are based on the readings taken from the arrowhead network, it's the most up to date data that we currently have. I expect that you should have no problem getting supercomputer time to work on this.

Feel free to shoot back any suggestions of your own to me, this is one hell of a project, and we're more or less starting from scratch here, I expect to be sleeping at the lab a lot over the next few months. I'm looking forward to hearing what you have to say.

Best Regards,
Bob






-2:25 PM September 3, 1986, 6 kilometers south of Jalalabad, Nangarhar Province, Afghanistan







“wǒpēi!” Corporal Huang Zhao cursed in frustration as he rubbed his sore knuckles. Wiping his sweaty forehead, he gripped the wrench tightly and attempted to loosen the bolt once again.

Lieutenant Lin stood over him holding the larger wrench “do you want me to get it? it's quite alright” he said with an amused grin on his face.

Huang groaned under the strain “no, I've got it, really” he said through gritted teeth. Lin shook his head but said nothing. Huang adjusted his grip, planted his feet more firmly, got a somewhat better hold on the wrench, and then tried again. After a few seconds of straining the bolt finally gave way success!

About a minute later the bolt had been removed and the retaining bracket came off right after it. Taking a second to revel in his success, Huang put the wrench down next to the collection of bolts and engine parts. Then he reached for the cursed fuel pump and pulled. It didn't budge, a long stream of expletives flowed forth from his mouth.

Ceasing his verbal assault on the faulty fuel pump, he took a deep breath and consulted the manual again “you know, if I didn't have to look at the manual every two minutes we'd have started on our way twenty minutes ago” he complained.

Lieutenant Lin nodded with exaggeration “sure, you keep saying that, whatever it is that makes you feel better” he said sarcastically.

Huang scanned the instructions and finally found what he was looking for after about another minute. Realizing his mistake, he felt around the side of the fuel pump blindly until he felt the familiar shape of another bolt. He grabbed the wrench again, adjusted it to the proper size and maneuvered it into the right position to get at the bolt. Feeling the wrench take hold, he gave it a sharp tug, fortunately this time it came loose with far less of a struggle than the last one.

While the difficulty of fixing this specific problem had indeed been frustrating, it was not the real reason for his anger. In stead it was the overall situation that he and the rest of the battalion had found themselves in on this particular day.

For as long as Huang had been assigned to this particular unit, they had all been equipped with the Type-59 main battle tank, old as they were, they were reliable and everyone knew their way around their tanks probably better than anything else in this world. Suddenly, with little to no warning, three weeks ago they had been given these new Type-80's in stead. Then without being given nearly enough time to familiarize themselves with the new tanks, they had been sent into combat, charged with driving away the hordes of alien invaders from Afghanistan.

So they were now going into battle with weapons that they had barely learned to use, into terrain which was hardly ideal for armored warfare, against an enemy that they had been told nothing about. Then to really compound the situation, they had been equipped with faulty fuel pumps. So far theirs had been the eighth tank to suffer a fuel pump failure, and as a result the entire battalion was hours behind the rest of the expeditionary force.

Fifteen minutes later the pump had been replaced and the engine was running smoothly. Huang and the rest of the crew piled back into their tank. Lieutenant Lin grinned nervously down at him from his cupola “perhaps we should have just replaced the fuel pumps in all of our tanks all at once before we left” he said.

Huang chuckled slightly “well sir, it would have taken a lot less time” he said as he grinned back at the tank commander.






-4:17PM September 7, 1986, Tapaua, Amazonas, Brazil





Gunfire rang out as the three Peruvians popped up from their cover behind the smashed jeep and opened fire on the charging monstrosities coming down the road from the center of the village. Che and his squad quickly followed suit as they came out from behind their cover provided by a half collapsed house. The four creatures up ahead stumbled and collapsed as they succumbed to the sustained weapons fire.

Not waiting, Che and his men sprung into action, sprinting down the road past the three Peruvian soldiers and up to the burned out hulk of an EE-11. A single warrior writhed around on the pavement; apparently only crippled and not killed, Che brought his Mossberg to bear and put two more slugs in the downed beast, ending its struggle.

A torrential rain poured down onto their heads, soaking them and everything around them, thick black liquid oozed out of the nearby dead creature and mingled with the rain water, covering the road surface in a dark grey translucent sheen. Che pushed a half dozen rounds into his shotgun while Private Monte peeked around the side of the destroyed armored vehicle. After a second, Monte looked back and nodded, indicating that the coast was clear. Che waved at the Peruvians to come forward.

They pressed on down the street, about ten meters further along they came across another house, this one still more or less in tact. Everyone came to a halt, the Peruvians and the rest of Che's squad taking up positions to cover all the approaches. Che, Monte and three others headed into the dimly lit house. After about ten minutes of searching, the house was deemed clear.

Weapons fire could be heard coming from another part of the village as they exited the house. With a nod to everyone else they proceeded further up the street.

Che heard the inhuman screaming of more bozorgs up ahead, the group paused then cleared the street, forming up along the sides and pressing themselves to the piles of rubble which had once been buildings of some kind. They didn't have to wait long before the first beasts rounded a collapsed apartment building down the street and headed their way. No order was needed and they all opened fire on the oncoming swarm.

Monstrosities fell and died as they absorbed gunfire, unfortunately this group seemed to have a disproportionate number of mantis' and so they did not go down quite so easily. Che fired his shotgun's last round directly into the chest of one creature causing it to finally die.

Three of the mantis' made that characteristic flicking motion, but there was not enough cover cover to be had and four men on the other side of the street screamed as they were riddled by a volley of spikes. Che repeated the ritual of reloading his weapon. Finally he pumped the hand grip on his Mossberg then brought it to bear at the oncoming horde again.

The beasts had reached a large crater in the road up ahead and dipped down as they entered it. Two of the Peruvians produced hand grenades and hurled them into it. The leaders of the pack emerged from the crater just as the grenades exploded, drawing more howls from the monsters that were still in it.

The first ones to emerge from the crater made it about three meters before succumbing to the combined firepower of the men there, collapsing in a mass of black gory carnage, but more followed after them, hurdling over the bodies of the freshly dead. They too also made it a few more meters closer before also stumbling and falling.

Running dry again, Che turned his attention to reloading his shotgun, then he took aim back down the road. The monstrosities were a lot closer at that point, although their number had dwindled somewhat by then, but not enough to mitigate the rate at which they were closing the distance. Che took aim at the closest creature; a warrior, and put two rounds directly in its midsection, a hail of gunfire from Private Monte finished the job, bringing it down in a heap.

The first of the beasts had closed to melee range with the Peruvians who were the furthest ahead, he turned just in time to blow it away with a burst of fire at point blank range with his IMI Galil. Covered in black ooze he quickly turned to aim at the next creature, but wasn't quite fast enough as a mantis sliced his chest open with a single quick motion.

An explosion erupted down the street, drawing Che's attention long enough for him to see a group of creatures being riddled with gunfire from an unseen location. He didn't dwell on this as he spun and took aim at another charging monstrosity, emptying his shotgun into a screaming mantis “I gotta reload!” he screamed at Monte, but then realized that the man was silent.

A quick glance revealed that the man was dead, his body riddled with spikes, diluted blood washing all over the concrete. Che dropped his shotgun and picked up the dead mans FN FAL and brought it to bear on the nearest creature, unloading an extended burst of fire at it, obliterating its face and chest. The creature collapsed about a half second later.

Che looked around, searching for a new target when he realized that there were no more. The street was covered in the bodies of bozorgs and a few men too, and about thirty other men were walking down the street toward them.

“That was good work sergeant” said Lieutenant Costa who approached Che.

Che surveyed the area, two of the Peruvians lay dead, as well as six of his own squad mates “yeah I suppose, it only cost us about eight men's lives” he said with bitter sarcasm.

Costa stood next to him and patted him on the shoulder “I lost almost my whole platoon when we pulled out of this village back in July, this time we were fortunate” he said grimly.

Che shook his head “that's fine sir, let's finish securing the area” he didn't drop the sarcasm.

Costa looked as if he was about to scold Che, but merely nodded “very well sergeant, let's get moving.”

After about two more hours of scouring the rest of the village, they had managed to determine that it was clear of any further infestation. Che and the rest of the platoon sat at the village center in the front of a burned out cafe, attempting to take shelter from the continuing rainstorm under an awning.

Lieutenant Costa sat down next to him “I wish to apologize about earlier sergeant, I know you've seen a lot of comrades die since this war started, more so in fact than most, but I meant what I said, we were fortunate, it could have been a lot worse” he said as he observed an Argentinian M113 roll by.

Che tossed a stone into a water-filled pothole a couple meters away and surveyed the survivors from the initial assault on the village. What had once been nearly one hundred fifty men that had first set out to retake the village had been reduced to just over thirty “no need to apologize sir, you're right, I just fear that at the rate things are going I don't think we can afford too many more 'victories' like this” he said with a tone of resignation.






-8:23PM September 12, 1986, northern outskirts of Kabul, Kabul Province, Afghanistan





“Isn't it wonderful? I can't believe it!” exclaimed Azar as he jumped for joy. The other children stood around the young boy staring in amazement, while they were all a bit jealous, they were also excited. The fact that one of them was going to be sent to live in Uncle Osama's palace in Saudi Arabia was such an exciting thought. If Azar could go, then any of them could go too! At least that's what Uncle Osama had said, he promised that all of them were going to eventually get sent away to the palace just like Azar, as soon as he could arrange it.

The whole group of them whispered amongst themselves excitedly “I hear that you can eat candy of any kind any time you want, and that you get to sleep in a giant bed that's so soft every night” said Hasti in a hushed excited tone.

Farrukh wasn't as excited about it as everyone else, she didn't know why, but she just had a bad feeling “I don't know Hasti, it seems unbelievable” she said.

Hasti looked up at her “are you saying that Uncle Osama is a liar?” she said with a dismayed tone.

Farrukh shook her head “no, it's not that, but I just don't know. So many bad things have happened to you and me and all the rest of us, I just can't believe that such a wonderful thing could really happen” she sighed.

Hasti gave her a playful shove “oh stop thinking such things, one day, you and me both will be over in that palace all the way over there and we're never going to have another sad day ever again” she said as she gave Farrukh a hug.

Farrukh shook her head slightly “ayou're probably right, I can't wait” she said, trying to sound reassuring, but she still had her doubts.

It wasn't just the unbelievability of the situation, but also this strong unpleasant feeling she got around all the adults here, even from Mehrang who she liked more than all the rest. Uncle Osama was the worst though. Although he seemed really warm and friendly to them, and she was very grateful for all the food and shelter he had provided, but something just didn't feel right about him.

Mehrang, Uncle Osama, and a couple other men came after another couple minutes and took Azar, who waved to the rest of the children “goodbye everybody, I can't wait until the rest of you come too!” he said as he was led away by the adults. Uncle Osama smiled back at the rest of them, his expression warm, but Farrukh shivered when he looked at her.






-12:53 PM September 21, 1986, The Pentagon, Virginia, United States





Roger bit into his ham and cheese sandwich, it was mediocre and hardly satisfying, but he was hungry and he had missed breakfast. Munching away on it he opened his copy of the Washington Post and read an article on plant reopenings in Detroit.

“Is this seat taken?” Mike Hamilton was standing on the other side of the cafeteria table.

Roger looked up at him “oh hi Mike, sure, take a seat. What are you doing back in town?” he replied.

Mike pulled out a chair and sat in it, placing a tray down on the table in front of him “I've been recalled to Washington to help work out the preliminaries on that new treaty with the Russians, specifically I'm helping work out the particulars on troops and logistics” he said.

Roger nodded “sounds like you've been keeping busy” he replied, taking another bite of his sandwitch.

Mike opened a bottle of Pepsi which hissed slightly as the cap was loosened “How 'bout you? Running that think tank over at The Company. I'm surprised they let you out of your cage over at Langley” he took a drink from his soda.

Roger wiped a bit of mustard off of his chin with his napkin “well, my new assignment has got me dipping my toes in a lot of different DoD kiddie pools, I've actually been taking quite a few trips over here since my new assignment. Been doing a lot of traveling period” he explained. He paused for a second while he pondered a few crumbs on the table in front of him, then “talking cooperation with the Russians eh? so how many people have flipped you off since you arrived in town?” Roger said with a grin.

Mike chuckled slightly “oh, I've gotten a few dirty looks here and there, but hardly anything serious, besides, most of the naysayers are on the outs anyway. Did you hear about Ollie North?” he said.

Roger shrugged “something about money laundering charges?” he said absently.

Mike opened a bag of Wise Potato Chips and crunched down on a few which he swallowed “more than that, apparently the attorney general has got him for thirteen charges of wire fraud, and twenty eight charges of misappropriation of government funds, all on top of the money laundering charges” he explained.

Roger nodded “guess that look into that little mess in Nicaragua turned up some results after all” Roger remarked.

Mike swallowed some more chips “Ollie claims that he's being made a scapegoat for the administration, and that he's just a fall guy, but it doesn't look like things are going to get further than him.”

Roger finished off the last little bit of his sandwich and washed it down with a gulp of water “compared to the rest of the things going on here in Washington that's chicken scratch. I trust that you heard the rumors about the UN” he said.

Mike raised an eyebrow “I'm afraid I missed that one” he responded.

“Being in the state department, I'm surprised you hadn't heard anything.”

“Well, I've been out of the loop on some things out in Pakistan, what's going on with the UN?”

“Um, apparently there've been some folks in Vernon Walters' office who have been working out the details of some deal in the UNSC and the General Assembly, I haven't heard anything really detailed, but I gather that it's pretty major.”






-Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Willard Maye, PhD. Archeology, Princeton University





“September 26, 1986

The excavations have been going quite well, and today we managed to unearth part of what looks like the entrance to the city, which makes this the first structure to be uncovered.

Interestingly it appears to be in excellent shape, and in fact is possibly one of the most well preserved sites that I have seen. Attempts to determine the actual age of the city through carbon dating have proven quite difficult due to the fact that not a single test has produced the same results, with supposed ages ranging all the way from two hundred years all the way to twenty thousand years. However initial estimates based upon how deep the city has been buried indicate that it's approximately twelve to thirteen thousand years old.

The stairway leading up to the gate is interesting, continuing the ongoing trend of non-euclidian geometry that has already appeared before, the stairs possess no parallel edges, and no two stairs are the same. This is an attribute which as far as I can tell has not yet been seen in any other known civilization to date, one can only wonder what other new wonders await to be discovered within the city.

Work on translating the Antarctican written language has been proceeding steadily, albeit slowly. We have managed to uncover an additional set of tablets while digging down to the city which has aided in our efforts. Using the texts that I've already managed to uncover, I believe that I've managed to isolate the Antarctican 'alphabet' although this is only a preliminary first step and there is still a lot of verification that needs to be done.

I've been getting in touch with Dr. Salvator Avlarez, an expert out of the University of the Americas in Puebla, Mexico who specializes in Mesoamerican written languages. I've actually been quite pleasantly surprised with how much the Pentagon has allowed me to be so forthcoming with Dr. Alvarez, I'd wonder as to why, but I'd rather not question such good fortune.”







-2:26 PM October 3, 1986, Red Army Regional Command, Kabul, Kabul Province, Afghanistan





General Gromov looked at the dispatch as it sat there in his hands, especially the last part:

“While your suggestions are highly valued and appreciated, they will be taken under advisement when when the time comes to make any strategic and tactical decisions going forward.”

It might as well have read “fuck off, your advice is not welcome around here” or something else even more insulting. He dropped the dispatch on his desk and walked around to look over the big map in the middle of the command center.

He stared out at the various place holders and other markers across the field, and what he saw simply baffled him. General Dehzi was clearly walking into a trap; he could see it, the tāziyāne could probably see it, why the hell couldn't that damned fool see it too?

The plan was to keep the enemy busy laying siege to the city, then the Chinese would swoop in from the east and cut off the horde and push north, wiping out the tāziyāne pocket between them and the Soviet positions in Kabul. After that, both PLA and Red Army forces would swing south along a combined front and push into infested territory. It was hoped that the casualties inflicted on the enemy would be devastating enough to allow the Sino-Soviet force to finally push all the way to the heart of the infestation. It would be the single largest combined force assembled for a campaign against the tāziyāne, with more than half a million Chinese troops and a quarter million Soviets.

However, even from the beginning, it looked like trouble was brewing. First was the fact that Dehzi was advancing far too far to the south. Then there was the fact that he was encountering nowhere near enough resistance, casualty reports showed that the tāziyāne were hardly fighting back, and General Dehzi didn't seem to care. His lead elements were advancing far too fast, and his flanking troops were far too spread out. Boris had an image of someone putting his arm into an open crocodile's mouth, not expecting it to snap closed.

Even his superiors in Moscow had indicated some skepticism at the likelihood of success. Intelligence indicated that nearly half of the expeditionary force had been cobbled together at the last minute from different army groups all over the country. Then there was General Dehzi; an apparent politically motivated appointment, who had not commanded a force in the field since the Korean War. It was clear that the Chinese had not quite learned to fully respect their enemy, believing that massive numbers would be sufficient to tip the balance in their favor. Unfortunately this was not the kind of enemy that you could overwhelm with numbers.

The door to the command center opened and in walked a young corporal who approached Colonel Marchenko, the two exchanged a few words, then the corporal left. Boris looked up at the colonel inquisitively “we've got another one” he said grimly.

**

The UAZ skidded to a halt and both Boris and Marchenko got out in a hurry. Boris swore as he took in the scene “dammit, we have got to find out who has been doing this” he said with determination. This one was just as bad as the others, blood and dead bodies covered the ground mixed in with broken glass and other pieces of debris.

The colonel looked around, an expression of bewilderment on his face “I just don't understand, every group of rebels have agreed to work with us against the tāziyāne, anyone with the slightest bit of sense has to realize that fighting against us at this point would be insane” he said with as much anger as confusion in his voice.

Boris walked up to the body of a dead child, probably no older than five, taking his jacket off he bent down and laid it down over the body “I suppose it was too much to ask that people would give up on brutalizing each other in the face of extinction” he said, shaking his head in dismay. He looked over at a group of very angry looking armed Afghans “I'll tell you one thing though, if the tāziyāne get to them first it'll probably be the best fate they could hope for.”






-9:48 AM October 5, 1986, Pforzheim, Baden-Wurttemberg, Federal Republic of Germany





“Kilo Five-Seven, this is Kilo Nine-Four, where the hell is our air support!?!?” Mark shouted into the radio handset as he dragged Private Jenkins' body closer get some slack in the cord.

“Kilo Five-Seven, this is Kilo Nine-Four, air support has been rerouted east of your position, sorry Kilo Nine-Four, too much enemy air traffic. We're attempting to locate friendly ground assets to send your way, please stand by, over.”

“Better make it fast, or there won't be anyone here for them to find!”

He threw the handset down in disgust, Sergeant Murkowski looked over at him “no luck eh?” he shouted over the cacophony of battle. Mark shook his head “figures!” shouted Murkowski.

Mark surveyed their surroundings. Since pulling back from the original defensive perimeter three days ago they had been forced to hold up in a different location each day as they along with everybody else had been retreating across the city. This time they had picked the burned out remnants of a small bookstore.

What few men that were left alive in the platoon; maybe two squads worth, had positioned themselves around the windows along the front of the building and were laying down a continuous stream of fire into the street outside.. Fortunately the rear of the bookstore had collapsed due to the impact of an artillery shell earlier that morning, which meant that they only needed to defend against attack from one direction. Unfortunately that also meant that they had no place to run to if things got too dicey, and it certainly looked as if things had indeed gotten too dicey.

The sound of shrieks drew Mark's attention toward one particular spot at the storefront. Three men were laying on the floor, motionless, their bodies riddled with spikes. Two more were crawling away from the window, each with only one or two spikes protruding from their chests and shoulders and blood dripping onto the floor. A fifth had turned to assist their injured comrades. Quickly Mark and the sergeant grabbed their weapons and made their way to the front of the store.

As they made it to the window, Mark looked out onto the street where he could see that it was covered with countless bodies of both humans and bozorgs as well as an even larger number of body parts, some easily identifiable, and others merely just masses of red or black mush. The store sat at a T-intersection with one road coming to an end directly across from their position, and as far down that road as Mark could see there were what must have been hundreds, maybe thousands of bozorgs charging directly at their position, the nearest of which were no more than ten yards away.

Mark gave his weapon a quick inspection and took aim at the nearest warrior, then he fired three short bursts at it, causing the beast to stumble and fall into a crater that had been left by an artillery shell across the street. After a brief search he found another target, put it down, then found yet another. On the fourth target his rifle clicked dry, cursing under his breath he ejected the spent magazine and then reached down for another, he realized that he didn't have anymore.

He scanned his immediate area looking for another weapon and spotted an M249 formerly of Corporal O'donnel who now lay dead on the floor next to Mark. Without deliberation, Mark tossed his rifle aside, then reached over and grabbed the idle machine gun. He checked the belt feed to make sure it wasn't jammed then positioned it on the windowsill in front of him.

When he looked outside to find another target he realized that the horde was almost upon them. He squeezed the trigger and quickly downed an already stumbling warrior, then found a charging centaur, and unloaded at least twenty or thirty rounds into it before it too was felled. He took out another warrior which had managed to make it all the way to the sidewalk in front of the bookstore before dying.

“Holy shit! Look!” screamed someone to Mark's left. Barely audible over the sounds of gunfire and the screams of the monstrosities on the street outside was what Mark could have sworn was the growl of a diesel engine, suddenly one of the centaurs on the street outside vanished in an explosion, showering the surrounding area in bits of concrete and alien meat. Other creatures started losing limbs as they were hit by what looked and sounded like high caliber machine gun fire.

Seconds later three BMP-2's rushed into view from the right at what must have been close to thirty miles an hour, running right over several burned out and bullet ridden cars as well as a handful of charging monstrosities. They stopped sharply as they slammed on the brakes directly in front of the store, their main turrets turning toward the charging monstrosities down the street crazy motherfuckers thought Mark.

He and the rest of his platoon took aim and unleashed a hail of gunfire at the remaining creatures which the sudden new arrivals hadn't managed to blow away or run over. The last beast died a few seconds later “let's go! Move up!” shouted Mark and with that most of the twenty odd remaining men of Marks platoon jumped up and sprinted toward the three armored vehicles whose main guns continuously poured fire at the oncoming horde.

Sergeant Murkowski was right behind him “damn sir I dunno about having our bacon saved by the damn Russians!” he said, his amused dismay audible in his voice even over the racket of heavy weapons fire.

Mark shot a glance back at the sergeant “don't feel so bad Murkowski, it could be worse!” he shouted back, to which the other man looked at him with raised eyebrows, Mark gave him an amused grin “they could have been French!”

[Andehtron]

May I say....this is totally freakin awesome!

[guest]

May I say....this is totally freakin awesome!

you may say whatever you like, but I'm quite amicable to that

anyway, next update is gonna be the last in 1986, it's also gonna be kinda short, there are only a few loose ends that need to be tied up for the year, then I'm gonna jump to the spring of '87. Expect a map for years end on all regions soon too.

[LT.Hit-Man303]

Damn this is good and getting better, keep up the good work.

[Andehtron]

Just a quick nitpick in regard to weapons.

The M4 carbine rifle did not enter service until 1997.

The BMP-3 didn't enter service until 1987, although given the circumstances I can imagine it being pushed into production early.

[guest]

Just a quick nitpick in regard to weapons.

The M4 carbine rifle did not enter service until 1997.

The BMP-3 didn't enter service until 1987, although given the circumstances I can imagine it being pushed into production early.

I appreciate your attention to detail, the post has been edited to reflect the corrections, I also knocked the BMP-3's back to BMP-2's because even if they were put into production early, the POV character from that section prpbably wouldn't have known that, so he would have just assumed that they were BMP-2's.

Thanks again for the info.

[guest]

so finally episode 14 is upon us, it wound up being so long that I broke it down into two separate episodes all on their own, so expect episode 15 to show up tomorrow as I proof read it. this should be followed by posting of maps in each theater for the end of the year.

Episode 14:
 



“Most evolving lineages, human or otherwise, when threatened with extinction, don't do anything special to avoid it.”
-George C. Williams
 
 



 -5:43 PM October 8, 1986, DREAMWALKER research facility, Byberry Mental Hospital, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States




Roger leaned back in his chair, he inhaled a toke from his cigarette.  Then he took the cigarette from his lips and exhaled slowly, expelling the smoke from his lungs.  The door across from him opened as he tapped on the cigarette to dispose of the excess ash into an ashtray. 

James Randi entered the room "hello Mr. Jourgensen, as I said over the phone, Nora Silmar has requested to talk to you specifically, she wouldn't say why exactly, but she said it was important, sorry for having you come up here on such short notice, but I figured that she was one of the more ah... interesting subjects.  Her visions seem to be unique amongst other sensitives" he explained as he walked around the table and sat down in the chair next to Roger.  He pulled his chair closer to the table "an orderly should be by with her very soon" he then said.

Less than a minute later, a man dressed all in white escorted a middle aged looking woman in a dark blue sweat suit and bathrobe who walked slowly into the room.  The woman looked a bit disheveled, her dark brown hair was frizzy and unkempt, and there were several stains down the front of her shirt.  She looked straight at Roger, seemingly uninterested in anything else in the room.

James took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief "welcome Nora, please have a seat, as you can see Mr. Jourgensen has been kind enough to join us today as per your request" he said in a cordial fashion.  He nodded to the orderly "thank you George, if you will please wait outside, we'll inform you when we need you again" he said and the orderly nodded back and exited the room, the door closed behind him.

Nora proceeded to sit down in the chair, her gaze unwavering toward Roger "so I take it you have something to tell me Ms. Silmar, what is it that you felt that I needed to hear in person" Roger said as he inhaled from his cigarette again.

The woman was silent for a second, then she finally averted her gaze for the first time, glancing down at the table "I have finally realized what it is that the spirits have been telling me, I am to convey to you an important message" she said quietly, her tone was strangely flat, contrasting her otherwise unbalanced appearance.

Roger raised an eyebrow "and what exactly is that?" he asked expectantly.

Nora placed her hands in front of herself on the table top, the motion was very deliberate and controlled "we are to prepare for annihilation, for our assimilation into the The Mind" she said, again her tone very even and unwavering.

Roger put the butt of his cigarette out in the ashtray "what makes you so sure of this?  Have you seen something in particular that makes you believe this?" he asked nonchalantly.

Nora leaned closer ever so slightly "the message is clear Mr. Jourgensen, I have seen many things in my visions, murder, death, rape; horrific things, but none of those could compare to what the spirits have been telling me lately.  The spirits of long dead worlds and peoples have come to me, they have traveled with these strange invaders, they bear a warning, they tell me of their own tragedies and their own battles against the inevitable" her eyes went up to stare at Roger once again, the look in her eyes was a bit unsettling.

Roger had pulled another cigarette from the pack his pocket, the plastic on the pack crinkled as he extracted the cylinder "this is all very interesting, but I think I'll need something more substantial than that to go on.  Besides, I believe that you are being a bit pessimistic" he said as he lit the new cigarette, smoke puffed out of the end as it ignited.
The corners of her lips twitched slightly in the faintest hint of a smirk "I have seen the attempts of scores of different civilizations to fight the inevitable, and each vision ends exactly the same way.  It makes no difference; nuclear weapons, antimatter, particle beams, things so horrific and advanced that science has yet to think of a word for them.  I have seen immense weapons and war machines, massive implements of killing; magnificent in their horror, worse than the worst nightmares of the most demented of military minds.  Yet, they all failed."

Roger breathed out another puff of smoke in a sigh "well, this is all very interesting, however without something more specific or informative, I don't see if there is much I can do" he said as he started to puff on the cigarette again.

Suddenly Nora's hand shot up with unexpected speed, the motion made both James and Roger flinch, but she merely pointed a single bony finger at Roger "you dismiss what I say now, but mark my words Mr. Jourgensen, the seeds of our own destruction have already been sewn.  They will not stop, they will not rest, it matters not how many you kill or how hard or stubbornly you fight.  They will keep coming long after you have run out of bullets and bombs, long after you burn the last drop of oil, and the last scrap of steel has been used to build tanks and planes.  The human race is doomed Mr. Jourgensen and we have been warned to make our preparations for it."






-11:38 AM October 12, 1986, Big Fork, Ontario, Canada

 
 
 
More enemy artillery screamed in and a series of deafening explosions erupted all around Corporal Jean Boucher as he attempted to climb back to his feet.  The last blast had knocked him over and he was still trying to get his wits about him again “Lieutenant!  Where are you?!” he screamed out in search of Lieutenant MacTaggart who had been using the radio just before the artillery barrage had come in.  His vision had cleared slightly by the time he managed to almost trip over a firm but soft object on the ground.
 
A quick inspection revealed that it was the remains of a man that was missing the entire left half of his chest, and most of it’s head.  Blood and entrails covered the ground to the right of the body where the rest of it should have been.  A quick look at the name patch on the uniform confirmed that it was in fact the lieutenant.
 
Jean quickly stifled a heave then took stock of his surroundings.  Before him and just past the horribly mutilated body of his former commanding officer was a massive crater ripped in the ground where about two squads had once been, little to no evidence of their existence was left however.  A look behind him in the other direction down the trench revealed that there were about two or three men still alive that way, the remaining twenty or so lay all throughout the bottom of the trench or slumped over the side with blood and internal organs coming out from various large holes in their bodies.
 
He then crawled up to the edge of the trench and looked out over the battlefield where he could see countless hundreds, no- thousands of horrid monstrosities charging at them across the battlefield.  It was then that he realized that he no longer heard the deafening report from the eight Abrams tanks which had taken up position directly behind their line.  He turned to look back only to see a massive series of craters and the smoldering hulks of four tanks.  One had been turned into a glowing molten mass from the impact of a beetle’s fireball.
 
Jean tried to think, what was he to do?  He suddenly remembered that he had the platoon's TA-312 set in his rucksack, so he quickly pulled it off of his back and reached inside.  However upon finding the radio set, he realized that the handset was missing, the cord having been ripped out.  He suddenly remembered that Lieutenant MacTaggart had been holding the radio handset in his left hand when the artillery barrage came in, and that the mans left hand no longer existed.
 
Desperation gripped him, he quickly looked for a weapon and found an idle FN C1 lying on the ground next to him.  He picked it up and checked the magazine for ammunition, discovering that it had about a half a magazine.  Then without thinking he quickly leapt toward the front of the trench and took aim at the nearest attacking monstrosity and pulled the trigger.  The creature went down with a short burst from his rifle, the shortened range and the upgraded caliber size of the weapon making quick work of the horrific thing.  He searched for another target quickly and placed another burst of rounds into the next nearest warrior, putting it down too.
 
He noticed that the sounds of other men firing had ceased.  A quick look over to either side revealed that not only were there no more surviving men in the trench with him, but that there was a warrior less than five meters away.  He quickly turned and fired an extended burst at the creature, bringing it down as it charged him.  Then he dove into the nearby crater to avoid having it fall on him as it collapsed.
 
He was about to hop back up and start firing at the oncoming horde once again but he froze suddenly.  Paralizing fear gripped him as understanding dawned on him of just how hopeless his situation really was.  He could hear the inhuman screams of those creatures above him, could hear the dying shrieks of men elsewhere down the line as they were undoubtedly torn to pieces by more alien monsters.  He thought frantically, contemplating running away and cursing himself for not thinking of it before, but he had seen far too well other men who had turned and fled in the face of overwhelming numbers against these things.  He had seen them run as fast as they could, and no matter what they could not outrun these creatures.  Running only delayed the inevitable.
 
He looked down at the rifle in his hands, he thought fearfully for another second, trying to think of any alternative, of any way in which he could survive to see another day.  However the only fate he could realistically see for himself was to suffer a horrible and violent death at the hands of one of those godforsaken monstrosities.  He turned the gun, placing his thumb on the trigger and pointing the barrel at his forehead.  He squinted and gritted his teeth, preparing for the end, thinking of all that he would leave behind and how he didn’t want to die like all those other men.  Then he pulled the trigger.
 
His thoughts ended there as his brains sprayed all over the side of the trench behind him.
 





-2:28 PM October 15, 1986, White House situation room, Washington, DC, United States




"Very well, let's get this meeting started" said Secretary of Defense, John Marsh as he pulled his chair up to the table.  Roger took a sip of water from his glass and shifted in his chair as he observed the others in the room.  It was an interesting view, there were so many new faces present, and so many people in positions that differed from where they were before.  Apparently the war had made the powers that be decide to do a major house cleaning in order to preempt any major political blood letting following the first couple indictments relating to that mess in Nicaragua.  Marsh looked around the room "what do we have to report on the various fronts?" he asked.

General Lindsay; commander of US Northern Command cleared his throat "well, I unfortunately have no good news to report, most pressing at the moment is of course the situation in Minnesota and Ontario.  We have at the very least managed to reform our lines again, however we've lost a good chunk of territory, those five breakthroughs that the enemy have had were just too much for us to close, especially with the ammunition rationing" he explained grimly.

Marsh nodded "the intensity of enemy attacks has been reduced?" he asked.

"Well, they appear to have tapered  off for the moment, it would appear that they are busy consolidating their gains, as has been stated before we have traded territory for time, unfortunately we had to sacrifice close to a division worth of troops in order to pull off the retreat successfully, as bad as it was, it could have been a lot worse" Lindsay said. 

The mood around the room was quite clearly unpleasant, the expressions on others' faces seemed to be a mix of displeasure and grim determination, General Bernard Rogers; commander or US European Command spoke up "the European situation seems to be going at least marginally better, the enemy never managed to achieve any major breakthrough's and we've been able to make our retreat with somewhat better losses.  Also, Warsaw Pact forces have managed to pick up a lot of the slack from us; it would appear that the Soviets had a far higher desire for stockpiling ammunition than we did."

The Secretary of Defense turned to look over at General Russo, Director of the Defense Logistics Agency "so how much longer until we manage to catch up on munitions production?" he asked.

General Russo shifted in his chair slightly "we're still trying to get up to speed, even by reopening all currently existing munitions factories and running them at full capacity, we are consuming far more munitions than we had ever thought necessary, even in the worst case scenarios.  It's estimated that we won't be able to get all of our forces in the field fully supplied for at least another three months, and that's not even counting what we'll need once we activate our remaining reserve forces and get the first batch of draftees out into the field, we figure it'll be at least a good six months before we're fully able to keep up with demand, probably longer than that."

A few dismayed sounds came from others in the room, Marsh nodded "very well, what about the situation in Asia?" he asked in the direction of General Crist, the commander of US Central Command.


"Well, from what we can tell, the Indo-Pakistani forces in the south have been holding against increasing pressure against their lines on the Afghan border.  The Russians have been doing quite well actually, Kabul continues to hold out quite effectively, although we are getting indications that the city may be cut off in the next week or two, they've been having an increasingly difficult time maintaining the supply columns.  Unfortunately; as most of you have probably seen on the news, the Chinese offensive has been completely routed, their lead elements were cut off two days ago, and the pocket is not expected to last for very long, maybe three more days at the most."

A sound of unpleasant grumbling rumbled throughout the room "and... and how have the Brazilians been holding out?" asked Secretary Marsh who raised his voice to cut through the noise.

General Thurman adjusted in his chair uncomfortably "the Brazilians have reported that they continue to resist thoroughly, however even with the full assistance of every other army on the continent, they are having the same ammunition problems we are, unfortunately they've been losing men and territory at an even faster rate" he explained.

George Schultz; the Secretary of State, interjected "uh, the Brazilians have practically been begging us for assistance, unfortunately even if we spared the troops; as General Russo has said, we wouldn't be able to supply them" he said with a sigh.

Marsh frowned deeply "I have to brief the president on the overall situation regarding the war tomorrow morning, please tell me that I will have some good news to give him" he pleaded.

Roger took a deep "I believe that I may have something to offer" he said plainly.  The rest of the room turned to look at Roger, curiosity on their faces.  He looked around the room cautiously "I'm not quite sure what I would be allowed to reveal, it regards OBSIDIAN WINDOW, as well as QUIVER" he said.

The secretary waved his hand in a dismissive gesture "it's quite alright, everyone here has been cleared and briefed on those projects, what do you have for us?"

"Very well; almost two months ago, our experts at BLACKBOX came to the conclusion that before we could be assured any lasting military success against the tāziyāne-ye bozorg we need to find a means of preventing further infestations from appearing unexpectedly as the ones in Germany, Brazil, and Minnesota did.  Being that the most likely mechanism of their arrival seems to have been through the use of trans dimensional teleportation, just like that is employed by project OBSIDIAN WINDOW, a directive was issued to both that project and its sister program QUIVER to determine a way of prevent any further portals from being opened.  Anyway, as of a week ago they appear to have determined a means by which they can do just that.  I wouldn't care to try and explain the exact physics behind it; but in short, they intend to 'jam' the tāziyāne ability to teleport to and from our planet."

Whispered speculation passed through the room "and exactly how long before they can implement this new tecnhique?" asked Marsh.

"The actual mechanics of achieving this still need to be nailed down, however using currently existing equipment and infrastructure, it is estimated that we should be able to proceed in four to seven months."
 
 
 
 
 
-11:23 PM October 18, 1986, Lahic,Ismaili,  Azerbaijan
 
 
 
 
 
Osman grunted as he pushed the wheelbarrow up the hill, being extra careful not to let it tip over and spill its contents out onto the ground.  After reaching the top of the hill he came to a halt and put the wheelbarrow down.  Wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand and holding out the flashlight with the other he surveyed the area below the hill.  After few seconds of looking around he saw what looked like a good spot to start digging.
 
He placed the flashlight under his armpit and then gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow.  The trip down the other side of the hill was actually harder than the trip up it, as the ground was somewhat more uneven and the wheelbarrow and its heavy cargo were trying hard to escape his grip.
 
Several difficult minutes later Osman had reached the spot which he had picked out earlier.  He then grabbed the shovel off of the top of the wheelbarrow and then proceeded to dig.  The ground was tough and sandy, grass and roots ripped and tore as he stabbed the blade of the shovel into the ground.  More sweat poured from Osman’s forehead and he grunted in exertion as he went about his work.
 
After about an hour of labored digging he had a decent sized hole for his intended purposes.  He walked back over to the wheelbarrow and pulled the tarpaulin off of its contents.  A slightly rancid odor reached his nose, Farid’s now lifeless eyes stared back at him in the darkness “well my brother, it is time to part ways for good now” he said.  He then pushed the wheelbarrow over to the edge of the hole and tilted it over to dump the body into the freshly dug grave.
 
After a bit of convincing, the limp body tumbled out of the wheelbarrow and off into the grave.  Osman then grabbed the shovel off of the ground and took a shovel full of dirt which he tossed onto the body of his dead brother.
 
Osman reached for another shovel full of dirt, but suddenly he was blinded by a bright light, his ears filled with a deafening roaring noise, almost like sticking ones head under some rushing water.  His hands and feet tingled with some weird sensation and he felt a weird disorientating feeling, kind of like falling through the air.  But that was all minor compared to the feeling of his arms and legs being restrained by something.  He couldn’t see what was holding him, but any attempt to struggle proved futile as the restraints did not budge.  He tried to scream, but the roaring in his ears made it impossible to hear anything so he didn’t even know if he was actually making any kind of noise.
 
After the initial shock wore off a few minutes later, he attempted to get a feel for his surroundings, but he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t see anything but the blinding white light.  He could smell something, kind of a combination of dank mildew ,something metallic, and something sweet, like a baking pastry of some kind.  Aside from the restraints holding him in place he could not feel anything, and he could taste something, but it was unidentifiable, it was such an odd taste that he didn’t even know if he liked the taste or disliked it.
 
An indeterminate period of time passed that had felt like an eternity before his vision started to clear.  The bright white light started to darken and he could make out several moving shapes which appeared to glow a bright blue color.  He strained to see more clearly.
 
Just as his vision fully cleared, he suddenly felt an indescribable pain coursing throughout his entire body.  He didn’t know what it was, but all that he knew was that it was more pain than he had ever felt in his entire life.  He tried to scream again, but still he heard nothing but that deafening roar.
 
Eventually his screaming stopped after another couple hours, cut off as the cells in his throat were completely disassembled, reducing it to an undefined red mush   Several hours later he himself expired as too many of his brain cells collapsed into a gelatinous mass of severely damaged nerve tissue.  Eventually the last of his cells were thoroughly dissected before their parent chemical composition was thoroughly disassembled into bare atoms.  The disassembly continued until there was nothing left of Osman but quarks and gluons.
 
 
 
 
 
 
­-4:23 AM October 24, 1986, Tapuaz, Amazonas, Brazil
 
 
 
 
Che barely had time to register the sound of incoming enemy artillery before the air surrounding him became filled with flying debris, shrapnel, smoke, and lots of noise.  Not allowing himself to be distracted by the shelling he pressed on through the trench.  Rounding a bend he passed a long line of men who were pressed over to the front edge of the trench and screaming and firing their weapons.  The trench and everything in it became bathed in stark white light as another flare was fired up into the air, the shadows it cast distorting as the flair rose and fell in the air.
 
He came across a machine gun position with two men manning an M60 firing bursts from it with regularity.  One of them cast a brief glance at him but didn’t say anything “who’s in charge here!?!?” he demanded of them.  They both looked up at him with blank expressions on their faces, then they spoke, but he didn’t understand them.  It was then that he realized that they were wearing Bolivian Army uniforms “fucking wonderful” he said to no one in particular.
 
More artillery screamed in overhead, this time it sounded friendly.  One shell impacted about five yards in front of his position in the trench, it showered Che and the men around him in bits of tree and earth.  Che’s heart skipped a beat right then as he realized that that impact was entirely too close, and just as he had that thought another explosion erupted, but this time actually in the trench, the blast wave washed over his body, dirt and debris pelting him harshly.  His vision blurred and his ears started ringing.
 
It took him a second to realize that he was now laying on the bottom of the trench and his whole body ached like he had been hit by a car.  The sharp pains that he was sure were minor wounds probably from shrapnel stung him from multiple places around his body, he merely took a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured, then he realized that he had dropped his weapon.  Thinking quickly he fumbled around for his Mossberg which he found surprisingly quickly. 
 
He had a hard time seeing through the smoke which now hung in the air from the artillery impact, but a new flair had been launched into the sky and it illuminated the trench around him once again.  The details were hard to make out, but he could clearly perceive the two motionless shapes of dead bodies where those Bolivians had been before.
 
More screaming could be heard further down the trench which drew Che’s attention.  About ten yards distant a warrior had managed to make it up to the trench and was clawing away at some unfortunate bastard who was now missing an arm and screaming loudly.  Fortunately though, the man’s neighbors had turned their attention to the new immediate threat and quickly gunned down the interloper before returning their attention to the area beyond the trench once again.
 
Che gripped his shotgun and continued on.  A few minutes later he came across a young soldier sitting at the bottom of the trench, cradling his rifle in a fetal position “get your ass up soldier!” he screamed at the cowering young man.  The soldier didn’t respond, he merely sat there sobbing raggedly “did you hear me get the fuck up!” shouted Che as he grabbed at the man’s arm and yanked hard.  The sobbing man doubled over and was now on his hands and knees.
 
More screaming could be heard nearby and Che looked up to see that it was a nearby soldier who had just been impaled through the head by a warrior’s scythe.  Che brought his shotgun up to his shoulder and pumped a round into the creature, then another, and then a third.  At this range globs of black blood and bits of the creature’s armored carapace exploded off the body with each shot.
 
Che looked over the side of the trench to see additional monstrosities far too close for comfort.  He swung around and fired at the nearest one, it went down with the last round in the magazine.  Che quickly turned his attention to reloading, he pumped the hand grip when he had finished.
 
The sounds of both human and alien shrieking reached him from further down the trench, their line was collapsing.  It was clear to him now that there was little chance of salvaging the situation.  A bright orange light shone on the surrounding area, it took him a second to realize that it wasn’t a flare. 

Looking toward the source of the new light revealed one of an M-60 tank which had become engulfed in flames, it’s shape deforming as it melted under the incredible heat. It wasn’t hard to spot the source of the tank’s attacker as he saw a group of about a half dozen fire bugs charging through the trees.  Loud popping noises could be heard as the ammunition in the tank cooked off.
 
His attention was drawn away from the sight of the approaching behemoths by the sound of a howling mantis that had made it into the trench behind him.  Che spun around to see it tearing a poor bastard in half.  He aimed his shotgun and pulled the trigger, the beast reacted to being hit, but it didn’t seem to have been too inconvenienced by it.  The mantis finished disemboweling its prey then turned toward Che who unloaded two more shots into the yellow spotted monster which shrugged off the hits with a frightening casualness and continued unabated.
 
The traumatized soldier at Che’s feet had not bothered to turn his attention to the nearby creature and continued sobbing, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.  Che gave up on trying to motivate the man, viewing it as a lost cause and so he turned and ran.  Unfortunately for the crying young man, but at least fortunately for Che, the Mantis turned its attention toward the easier target and started disemboweling him on the spot.  Che did not waste this opportunity and took the time to climb out of the trench and scramble away.  The battle for Tapaua had ended, the village would belong to the monsters once again, the battle for survival was all that was left.

[guest]

well, I've taken a bit longer than promised to deliver the next update, and for that I apologize, I've just been a bit side tracked. I'm currently at work so the promised maps will have to wait until I get home.

[guest]

Episode 15

“People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
-George Orwell







-2:23 PM November 4, 1986, Kabul, Kabul Province, Afghanistan






“This bag is so heavy” complained Hasti as she struggled with the large knapsack.

Farruklh repositioned her own grip on her own bag “what's in these things? I wanna know” she whined.

Mehrang merely looked down at her with a discouraging look on his face “I said no Farrukh, they are your surprises and you cannot open them until we get to Uncle Osama’s palace” he said sternly.

Farrukh merely looked back at him suspiciously, every time he said something about their bags she got the strongest feeling of dread, she didn’t know why, but she got a really bad feeling. She didn’t say anything however and merely went back to trying to maintain a grip on the heavy bag.

They walked down the street, past a large crowd of people, some were soldiers, but mostly just civilians. After about another minute or so they came across an open market “alright little ones, I am going to go make arrangements for the car to come pick us up and take us to the plane” explained Mehrang “wait here” he ordered with a stern look as he turned to walk away.

However before he could get further than two steps he was stopped by a Russian soldier. Mehrang attempted to get past the soldier, but the other man merely got in his way. They started arguing, just then Farrukh started to get an incredibly strong feeling of horror, almost as if something horrible and indescribably bad was crawling up behind her that she couldn’t see but still knew was there.

She decided that she didn’t care if she got in trouble and put her bag down and struggled with the straps holding it closed “what are you doing? We’re going to get in so much trouble!” protested Hasti.

Farrukh merely shook her head “I have the worst feeling Hasti, I really need to know” she countered as she continued working on the bag’s straps. After another second or two of struggling, the last strap came loose and the flap on the top of the knapsack came open.

Both Hasti and Farrukh stared at what they saw inside of the bag, unsure what it was. It was some kind of strange looking item, some weird grayish looking stuff that looked like unbaked clay bricks but with strange writing on it, a bunch of colored wires and some kind of metal cylinder, like a can or something, a couple little lights blinked on the side of the strange thing “what is that?” asked Hasti.

Farrukh was about to say something when she heard loud shouts coming from Mehrang and the soldier he was arguing with. Mehrang turned and bolted for Hasti, chased after by the Russian soldier.

Hasti cried out in alarm as Mehrang grabbed her up in his arms along with her own bag. The soldier chased them down the street, he was followed by two additional Russians who appeared suddenly, one of them came up to Farrukh, grabbed her, and carried her in the opposite direction, leaving the knapsack lying on the ground. The surrounding people had started to run away from where she had dropped it, many of them screaming and yelling in alarm.

All of a sudden a bright flash blinded Farrukh, she felt an intense heat all over her body, and a deafening bang as well. She was disoriented and didn’t know what was going on, but when her senses returned to her she could hear people everywhere screaming, some crying, and more soldiers shouting. People were laying on the ground all over, blood pouring from multiple places in their bodies, some of them were still moving however, and they crawled around crying out in pain.

The Russian soldier who had picked her up was struggling to pick himself up off the ground, he grunted loudly. She felt pain in her shoulder and her knees from where she had fallen and hit the pavement. She pulled herself to her feet and looked around for her friend “Hasti? Are you there? Hasti?!”







-3:07 PM November 4, 1986, Red Army Regional Headquarters, Kabul, Kabul Province, Afghanistan





Boris walked down the hallway with a determined swiftness to his stride, he was flanked by several other soldiers. He rounded a corner then came to a pair of double doors which he pushed open forcefully and exited the building.

Almost as if on cue a UAZ pulled up to the front of the building a few seconds after Boris came outside. He walked up to the now parked vehicle as two soldiers exited it, through the windows he could see a small girl; no older than six or seven, sitting in the back seat, she stared blankly at the back of the seat in front of her. One of the soldiers approached the rear door and opened it, he then urged the young girl to exit the vehicle, she didn't respond.

The soldier reached over to grab her, Boris stepped up “if the girl does not want to get out then let her stay, I think she has dealt with enough today” he said. The soldier acquiesced and stepped aside. Boris then got in the truck and sat down next to the girl, she did not look up or even react to his presence. He shut the door; silence filled the truck, only the distant thumping of artillery was audible.

He looked down at her, his Pashto was a bit rough, but he had learned to improve it in the past few months “I have heard that you have very bad day” he said in a heavy accent. The girl still did not respond. He decided to try a different approach “what your friend's name?” it was a hunch, all he knew was that the other soldiers and witnesses had reported seeing another little girl present at the bombing and that she had not lived.

The girl averted her stare for a fraction of a second, apparently that had pulled her out of it “I... she, her name is... was Hasti” she said at almost a whisper.

Boris nodded well, at least I got her talking, now to try another hunch “when did parents die?” he asked. Although he had no way of knowing, it was highly likely that whoever it was that used these children to carry those bombs was using orphans, they were less likely to be missed, and there wasn't exactly a shortage of orphans in Afghanistan these days.

She took a deep breath and blinked slowly “I don't know, Anoushirvan told me they died when I was still a baby, they were killed in the fighting” she said.

“Who is Anoushirvan? Friend?”

She shook her head silently “my brother” she simply said, this time she looked like she was about to cry, but didn't.

Boris nodded with understanding “dead too?” he asked, she nodded. There were a lot of clichéd sayings that he thought that he could say to her to make her feel better, but he figured that she deserved better than that “life can be cruel” he said, she nodded again. Silence hung between them in the back of that truck, he placed a hand on her shoulder and patted gently, the distant rumble of passing jets could be heard for a few seconds mixed in with the constant thump of artillery.

Finally he spoke again “who the man with you?” he asked quietly.

“It was Mehrang.”

“How many more children?”

“Um... eight more.”

“Can you tell me where they are?”

The girl turned and looked at him for the first time, physically she was clearly only a child, but judging by the look in her eyes, she could have easily been a hundred years old, she nodded.






-4:23 PM November 4, 1986, northern outskirts of Kabul, Kabul Province, Afghanistan




Osama bin Laden finished stuffing a canteen into one of his saddle bags and secured it closed. Anwar handed him a kalashnikov which he slung over his shoulder “have you finished making the other preparations?” Osama asked. Anwar nodded “the others do not suspect?” Osama asked next, again Anwar nodded.

Osama grinned in satisfaction, after news came through that the Russians were starting to lose ground against those God sent abominations and that the city would soon be cut off, he and his men had started to make preparations to pull out of the city. As such when Mehrang had not returned from his mission and word came that the Russians were looking for someone, Osama had been ready to leave. Unfortunately he would have to leave this group of fighters, and though it would be a real shame, it was necessary for him to escape to carry on the fight to these infidel invaders, and the rest of these traitorous Mujahideen. Besides, he could get more men; he always could, there were many who were receptive to the truth that this great scourge was a divine punishment against the Afghan people that would persist until these infidels were finally driven out of the country.

Alarmed shouts could be heard from the other side of the camp, drawing Osama's attention. He could make out several vehicles pulling up, he was surprised how fast they had found the camp, but it was no matter, the others would keep them busy for more than long enough for him to escape. A simple look exchanged between Anwar and himself was all that was needed before they had mounted the horses and were off.

They were almost half a kilometer away before they had heard the first distant sounds of gunfire coming from the camp. After another half hour and a small bit of effort blending in with the rest of the people escaping the city, they had managed to get past the northern defensive perimeter.

After another hour or so of riding north they had decided to stop for a moment, they were confident that the Russians had not tracked them, and Osama had to relieve himself. They came o a halt next to a small hill “wait here and guard the horses” he ordered as he dismounted. Anwar grunted in acknowledgement and Osama stepped away and headed up the hill a bit of a ways and stopped.

He undid his trousers and emptied his bladder promptly; finishing up, he heard what sounded like a scream “Anwar?” he said as he turned around. When no response came, his heartbeat quickened and he looked over toward the horses and Anwar, but the other man wasn't there. He took a few cautious steps toward the horses and unslung his rifle “Anwar?” he asked again. A few steps later he got a close enough view to see that Anwar was laying on the ground next to his mount, the man's throat had been cut so deep that he had almost been decapitated, blood was all over the mans front and the ground all around him.

Osama thought he heard a sound but he couldn't identify what it was or where it was coming from. He swung his weapon this way and that, but couldn't see anything. His eyes played tricks on him; every so often he thought he saw something in the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look there was nothing there. Not wanting to wait and see what had killed Anwar, Osama sprinted the rest of the way to his horse. He grabbed the reins and lifted his foot to put it in the stirrup, but he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his knee which immediately gave out on him.

Panic gripped him and his finger tightened on the trigger of his Kalashnikov, an extended stream of fire escaped from the rifle, hitting nothing but air and ground. He collapsed to the ground with a crash, banging his head in the process, a sharp pain shot through his right arm, causing him to lose his grip on his gun.

Something wrapped around his neck and his injured arm, his other hand went up to try and pull it off, but his struggles yielded no result. Whatever it was tightened its grip and pulled him along the ground, his breathing became far more difficult and he started to become faint. Soon he lost consciousness.

He passed in and out of consciousness over an indeterminate period of time, he could tell that he was being carried somewhere, he got the occasional glimpse of devastated terrain, covered in craters, scorch marks, and bodies. Eventually the ground became covered in some kind of strange fleshy disgusting stuff, and these horrific and alien looking structures. The ground and the strange structures pulsed and moved in strange ways, almost as if they were alive.

When he had finally regained consciousness, he realized that he was stuck inside some kind of enclosure. It was dimly lit and smelled horrible, and strange bony ridges and structures lined the walls ceiling and floor of the room. He could hear the sounds of other people screaming and moaning as well as some kind of unnatural but horrible noises, like howls or shrieks or something. After a few more seconds his eyes had adjusted and he was able to make out more details and he realized that the walls were lined with people, literally hundreds of people. Their skin discolored and pale, and what looked like tons of veins and tendrils had literally grown into their flesh from the surrounding wall. While most were motionless, some were shaking and struggling. He realized then that it was they that were the source of the screaming.

That last realization was enough to finally bring him to his senses; he tried to struggle, but his arms and legs were firmly held in place. He felt a firm pressure on almost his entire body except his chest and face. After a few more minutes of struggling he finally gave up, resigned to the fact that his bonds were too strong to break free.

Suddenly he felt a light tingling all over his body and his head, almost as if thousands of tiny needles were poking at his skin. The intensity of the tingling increased, then it turned to pain, the pain also increased, he cried out and started to struggle again. Soon he felt more pain than he had ever imagined possible, like his entire body was on fire.

He screamed and screamed at the top of his lungs for God knew how long, but it felt like an eternity. He wondered why he didn't pass out from the pain, it certainly felt like enough, then he felt something different. It hurt, a lot, but it wasn't pain, at least not physical pain, it was different this time. He felt as if his soul was on fire, his fear increased somehow, but he also started feeling happy, joyful, lustful, sad, and jocular all at the same time. Somehow he felt every possible emotion all at once with unbelievable intensity, then he was seeing his memories, every one, all at once.

It was an agony of intense feeling, horrible and joyful and everything else all at once. His vision blanked out, he could no longer see the chamber, or the other people, or hear the sounds of screams and shrieks. In fact he no longer perceived the chamber in any way, his own body, nor anything else. All there was was the intense feelings, he screamed, or at least his mind screamed, he was unable to determine if he could hear himself, or if he even had vocal cords.






-9:18 AM November 16, 1986, Needles, California, United States





Kelly paced back and forth down the hallway, she looked nervously at the linoleum tile on the floor, noticing the reflection of the fluorescent lights in its smooth surface. Someone opened a door down the hallway, Kelly turned to see who it was, hoping to see Bobby, but it was nobody that she knew. She went back to her pacing.

She continued that way for another ten minutes "the waiting is the worst part" said Bobby's mom, she was sitting on the bench along the wall next to Bobby's dad.

Kelly stopped and looked at them "I know, I'm so nervous, I just want to know already, one way or the other" she replied. Giving up on pacing, she sat down next to the couple. The door opened again, this time it was Bobby who came out, it was hard to tell from the look on his face what the answer was.

All three of them got up as Bobby slowly walked down the hall "so, what happened?" his dad asked expectantly.

Bobby looked up at them absently "they rejected me, said I got flat feet" he said, a hint of dismay in his voice.

Both of Bobby's parents and Kelly all let out a collective sigh, the tension of the past two hours finally releasing all at once. All three of them moved closer to hug him "what's wrong? I thought that you were afraid of being drafted?" asked Kelly.

They pulled away after a few seconds of a firm embrace, Bobby nodded thoughtfully "yeah, I know, but I still feel kind of rejected" he said, again dismayed.

His mom let out a small chuckle "you know something Bobby? Sometimes you can be a real dummy" she mussed his hair.

Bobby batted her hand away embarrassed, his dad put his hand on Bobby's shoulder "well, that's enough of that, why don't we all go up to Pablo's for lunch?" he said encouragingly.

Bobby's mom looked back at him a bit surprised "Tom, that's all the way to Kingman, and I don't wanna use up all of this weeks gas rations" she said scolding.

Bobby's dad nodded "I know, but I think we should go out to celebrate" he said cheerfully, giving Bobby's shoulder a shake "or maybe give Bobby here some consolation."





-2:28 PM November 24, 1986, Afghan border near Ghulam Khan, North Waziristan, Pakistan




Nikolai sat against the side of the small shack and bit into something disgusting that probably contained lamb or some other kind of animal. As he munched, he watched most of the rest of the squad kick a misshapen object that resembled a ball of some kind in a very informal game of football.

One of the Pashtuns who Aleksie had dubbed "Eduard" due to Nikolai once remarking that the man looked like an "Afghan Eduard Khil" had managed to get possession of the ball and was heading for the opposing team’s goal. Aleksie moved up to defend, he made a move to slide tackle, but Eduard made a feint to his left followed by a quick turn to the right. Aleksie missed, and Eduard made an impressive shot past the goalkeeper to score "looks like you need more practice Aleksie!" shouted Nikolai.

Aleksie picked himself up off the ground, dusting himself off "damned bastard cheated!" he retorted.

Nikolai chuckled "did he hypnotize you to make you fall for that feint?" Aleksie rolled his eyes and said something inaudible "what was that? I didn't quite catch that" asked Nikolai in a sarcastic tone.

Aleksie raised his eyebrows and put his hands up in a mock show of innocence "nothing, I had some dust in my nose and sneezed" he said.

Nikolai nodded "that's what I thought" he said as he chuckled once again, Aleksie returned to playing once again now that Eduard and the rest of his teammates had finished celebrating the goal. The amusement was a good distraction from the stresses of combat. With the added infusion of Indian reinforcements to the line over the past month, it had become possible to rotate troops back to the rear with some degree of regularity in spite of the increasing enemy attacks lately. Granted, this was hardly the "rear" by any definition of the term as they were only about seven miles from the front, but it was more or less out of harms way, artillery strikes rarely fell this far back, the same could be said about air attacks, and they had been given two days to rest before being sent back to fight up at the front again.

He watched the continuing football match again for a few more minutes, then he heard the sound of multiple vehicles pulling up, he finished off the last couple bites of his meal and wiped his hands on his trousers before getting up and grabbing his weapon. He walked around the shack and came across a pair of trucks, a man hopped out of it, he was dressed in a Red Army uniform, and his insignia indicated that he was a lieutenant. Before the man had a chance to greet Nikolai knew the purpose of the visit.

**

"Let's go!" screamed Nikolai to the rest of his squad as they sprinted down the trench toward a devastated section. Bodies lined the sides, edge, and bottom of the ten meter stretch of the trench, and about a half dozen warriors along with one centaur were just turning their attention away from mutilating the freshly dead to find new victims "everybody pick a target, Aleksie and Eduard we're taking that big sonovabitch!" he shouted as he brought his Kalashnikov to bear.

Nikolai, his good friend, and the Pashtun fighter stepped ahead and took aim as the squad opened up and put down the small swarm of monstrosities. At the same time Nikolai and the other two designated men came down on one knee and let loose a hail of gunfire directed at the single larger beast, their shots impacting considerably close to each other directly in its midsection. Black fluid burst forth from the charging beast in copious amounts accompanied by bits and pieces of its now shattered exoskeleton. The concentrated fire worked and soon it too had started to stumble and fall, its injuries too great even for its remarkable constitution. Other men who had already put down their own designated targets had turned their attention to the large survivor as well, and shortly after the additional firepower had been added to the already devastating barrage, the monster went down for good, collapsing in a mass of shattered limbs and black gore.

They started up again, jogging the rest of the distance to the newly created gap, several of them tuning to scan the battlefield beyond the trench for any further oncoming beasts. A couple men spotted some quickly approaching enemies and opened fire in short controlled bursts "everybody check your weapons and get ready!" he ordered as the squad got into position. Taking his own advice, Nikolai inspected his own weapon quickly and insured that he had enough ammunition. Finishing that, he turned his attention to the battlefield ahead, he quickly registered a massive horde charging in their direction, it's breadth and width far larger than any he had seen so far to date. Every variety of creature was out there; fire bugs, centaurs, dragonflies in the air above, and of course countless warriors, everywhere.

He took aim at the nearest one, his weapon barked and a hail of bullets sprung forth from its barrel. After putting that one down, he looked for another target, he quickly glanced at one of the advancing fire bugs and was about to turn his attention to one of its neighbors when he realized that there was something different about that one. He considered it for a second but dismissed the thought as he had far more pressing things on his mind. This attack was far more intense than any previous one so far, the enemy numbered in the tens of thousands from what he could tell.

**

"Enemy target, right!" screamed Corporal Khan, Lieutenant Jag Singh squinted through his scope, as the turret on their T-72M1 swiveled to take aim.

He looked as the cross hairs lined up on the charging monstrosity "fire! fire!" he shouted and the entire tank shook violently as the tank's main gun kicked back inward with incredible recoil accompanied by a deafening boom "reload!" he then ordered as he stared at the advancing beast continued to charge, even with a massive gaping wound in its abdomen. Electric motors whined as the autoloader did its work, loud clicking noises filled the interior of their vehicle as the shell was pushed into place.

He took another quick look to ensure that their target was still in their sight "fire! fire!" he ordered again, and the entire tank shook once more. A quick glance through his scope revealed that while the creature had in fact not died this time either, the massive explosion from the impact had devastated it's entire right side, ripping almost all of its legs off of that side of its body. Confident that the creature was at least much less of a threat he decided it was time to rotate again "alright Rao, let's get moving again" he said to the driver and the tank kicked into gear once again. jerking them all around violently as the transmission engaged and the treads dug into the ground, causing it to pull away.

Although there wasn't a lot of long range movement going on, it had been decided that in the interests of making it harder for the enemy to hit them with artillery barrages as well as those horrible fireballs, tanks would continuously change location between shots.

The vehicle bucked and jostled as it rolled over uneven terrain for several minutes, the tank slammed to a halt as they settled into their new position. Corporal Khan again returned to scanning for new targets, it did not take long to find one "target left!" he shouted.

Singh saw it through his own sight, yet another fire bug, but this one seemed larger, and it wasn't firing, but then again the creatures had almost gotten to the trench by now, the increased size was probably just a product of his own imagination due to them being so much closer. He pushed any further thoughts to the back of his mind as the turret came to a rest, their aim lining up once again "fire! fire!" he ordered and their main gun complied with the standard violent kick back.

When the dust cleared, the monster was still advancing unabated, he waited for the autoloader to complete it's task, and the turret to make a couple small adjustments, and made the order again, and still the monstrosity kept coming. They put four more shots into the creature, tearing huge chunks out of its carapace which spewed large amounts of that horrific fluid, wounds which should have killed it. Yet it still persisted, he realized that it was only a few meters from the trenches, and while most of its escorting warriors and centaurs had long since died, it still continued.

He waited for the autoloader to complete its task yet again, upon the sound of the last metallic click, he opened his mouth to make an order when suddenly he was blinded by a bright flash through his scope. Almost instantly the tank jumped into the air violently it's armored structure ripping to pieces and a wall of fire poured into the cracks and washed the interior of the tank in white hot fire.









-3:06 PM November 24, 1986, Pakistani Army field headquarters, Miran Shah, North Waziristan, Pakistan






General Jehangir Karamat looked over the tactical map of the area and pondered a particular point twenty-five kilometers northeast of their position where the enemy seemed to have concentrated a considerable amount of their strength. He was only allowed a moments thought however as the ground shook violently enough to displace most of the markers on the map and topple a bookshelf on the other side of the room.

He gritted his teeth in anticipation, expecting that it had been a nearby artillery impact which would be followed by another one soon after, but after several seconds of waiting he relaxed again strange, I didn’t think they had managed to hit this far south with their artillery. The sounds of commotion near the exit of the command center led him to head for the door.

When he stepped outside he saw that multiple people were pointing northward where he saw a thick black cloud of smoke rising to the north as well as massive bright orange flames, his heart skipped a beat as the realization that he hadn't experienced a nearby artillery impact just then what just happened?







-3:09 PM November 24, 1986, Afghan border near Ghulam Khan, North Waziristan, Pakistan




Nikolai climbed to his feet slowly as his head still spun. He tried to get his bearings, but it was very difficult as he couldn't see further than two meters ahead through all of the thick smoke and ash that filled the air. His entire body ached like he had just been thoroughly beaten by a strong man and his ears were ringing, he finally staggered to his feet bracing himself against the side of the trench.

He looked around, and in spite of the poor visibility, he could clearly make out a number of dead bodies as well as a couple other men who were trying to get to their feet as well. He searched for his weapon for several moments, trying to clear the dizziness out of his head, finally he managed to pick up an AK-47 rifle, although it probably wasn't his, it was better than nothing. He searched around for the rest of his squad "Aleksie!" he shouted although he could barely hear his own voice through the ringing in his ears.

The sound of screaming could be barely made out behind him, so he clumsily turned around and there he spotted a soldier struggling with a nearby warrior. Nikolai brought the rifle up and pulled the trigger, although about half the rounds harmlessly impacted in the surrounding dirt, the rest of the extended burst seemed enough to down the creature. Unfortunately, this was not before it had successfully torn out the poor soldier's throat.

Nikolai's hearing started to clear as did his head, he searched the trench looking for others. Then he recognized the Pakistani soldier, Malik, as well as Eduard, a hand came down on Nikolai's shoulder causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. When he turned to see who it was, he realized that it was Aleksie who had a confused look on his face "what the fuck just happened?" he asked astonished.

Nikolai looked back at his friend "I don't know! Just find something and kill it!"

[guest]

Okay, map time.


Here is a map of the situation in Minnesota:





For the first time here is a look at the situation in West Germany:




Also, the first look at the situation in Amazonas Brazil:



And finally the situation back in Afghanistan:




And that is how things look at the end of 1986, as said before, the next update will take place in early spring of 1987 and be accompanied by maps to indicate the changes in territory during the next few months.

[Zaune]

Question for my more tech-savvy fellow readers. How much time would it take, from a starting point of mid-80s technology, to cobble together an orbital kinetic-bombardment weapon that could take the place of a large tactical nuke?

[guest]

While the actual mechanical end of the weapons system is doable, since the technology needed to build each "rod" requiring only the ability to build a tungsten pole, the estimated size of which would give each one a mass of approximately 8600 kg, with the space shuttle alone capable of putting approximately 24000 into LEO, the real sticker here is targeting capability.

Now Wiki says that the targeting accuracy of a Peacekeeper missile is just under 400 feet, and the minuteman 3 is about 450-500. So the question is whether or not that is accurate enough for kinetic strikes, since accuracy is hardly a necessity when using thermonuclear weapons. As I recall the "rods from god" were meant to be a tactical weapon, kind of like calling in artillery, however I'm not sure how comfortable the average soldier on the ground would be with that kind of margin for error when dealing with this kind of explosive yield.

Practicality also becomes an issue as you can only launch a couple into orbit at a time, although the Soviet Energia was capable of up to 100,000 kg payload, it didn't have it's first launch until 1987 and that one failed to get it's payload into orbit, the second launch which was a success didn't make it until 1988.

Now, assuming that such accuracy is acceptable, I figure the earliest you would see a reliable weapon in sufficient quantity to ensure destruction of a single infested area, would be maybe 1988 at the earliest, and that's assuming NASA or the Soviets manage to do everything right and avoid all of the standard screwups they are known for, this of course is the first time either agency has had a pressing issue to really motivate them since the sixties, so perhaps they could work that fast.

Of course guidance could prove to be quite an issue either way, guiding a relatively small and lightweight MIRV down to a terrestrial target is a whole different animal from guiding a telephone pole sized hunk of tungsten. If it does come down to accuracy, then it could be a decade of intensive testing and effort before we see a feasible weapon. I'm not quite sure yet since I haven't gotten into the nuts and bolts of such a weapons system.

we'll see

[LadyTevar]

I wouldn't trust Wikipedia. We have several military members on this board, you might get better information out of them

[ChaserGrey]

Real question is, how much accuracy do you need? If all you want to do is help cauterize an infected area and cut down on the amount of biomass you're facing, you don't need rods-from-God accuracy. Getting within 500m or so should be just fine. If the launcher system is already in orbit, you're talking about a pretty straightforward trajectory- the projectile is starting its run at about the point ICBM warheads separate and do their midcourse corrections.

You're probably going to have better results with some kind of blunted RV shape to make sure they don't get dispersed too much during reentry, then pop it off and let 'em fly in the upper ionosphere. Zot.

What's really interesting is that in 1986-87, the U.S. still had the industrial capability to build more Shuttle orbiters if someone decides it's worth it...

[Zaune]

I wasn't thinking of anything so sophisticated as 'rods from God', actually. A steel tube full of concrete with a spare ICBM heatshield would make an alright projectile, and how small a CEP do they really need at this point? Nobody knows what the individual structures do at this point, so all the US and/or Soviets can do is drop kinetic strikes into the Red Zone more or less at random until they happen to hit something important.

[guest]

Interesting points guys, something to note however is that tungsten is good for it's density. The more dense the projectile is, the less volume it takes up, and the less surface area it has, this translates into less delta V lost to friction. As such, you're gonna want to save as much kinetic energy before impact as possible, therefore the tungsten is the best bet, it's also the least limiting factor that has to be contended with.

I don't think I'm giving anything away to say that killsat's are definitely on the table for this story, it's just a question of when, I also don't think I'll be giving away anything by saying that there will be more shuttles built. While there are a number of other more practical platforms out there, at least one of which will be put into production later on to replace the shuttle, the shuttle has already been tested and proven.

As I said before, numbers is the biggest limiting factor, cauterizing an area isn't going to be much use unless they can do a significant portion of the infested area at once, piecemeal will only just slow them down as they can just regrow whatever is lost rather quickly. That is unless the humans get lucky, but considering the resources and effort needed for such a project, the folks making the calls won't be too keen on wasting kinetic strikes just to slow down the horde while there are plenty of other more easy to produce methods available that can do the same thing. Like I said before, they can put only something like a few in orbit at a time, so it would take something like a year to get enough to get the desired number in orbit. Don't forget that while the impacts from the telephone pole sized ones; while similar in yield to a tactical nuke, have to hit the ground, so they lack the ability to air burst like a regular nuke, therefore unlike a regular nuke, getting a blanket effect will take a hell of a lot more weapons than with conventional nukes.

So even if they had started putting them in orbit the day the bozorgs showed up in Afghanistan, they wouldn't have a sufficient number until some time in mid 1987, and that's just for one infested area, there are four areas to deal with.

Besides, this conflict is not going to stay this straightforward for the whole duration, things are going to change, majorly.

[That NOS Guy]

So far this fic has been positively ghastly, and I'm loving every moment of it. Keep up the fine work.

Although regarding the Fire beetles, would it be possible to negate their thermal attacks with extensive ceramic armor, or is there a significant kinetic portion to their projectiles? Thanks.

[guest]

So far this fic has been positively ghastly, and I'm loving every moment of it. Keep up the fine work.

Although regarding the Fire beetles, would it be possible to negate their thermal attacks with extensive ceramic armor, or is there a significant kinetic portion to their projectiles? Thanks.

actually you're gonna see the first attempts to counteract their "napalm" in one of the next couple updates.

[ChaserGrey]

Yeah, kinetic kill wouldn't be a war winner by any means- but if the aliens continue to resist nukage, it could be the only viable way to deliver large amounts of energy onto their infestations. The biggest obstacle is going to be the location of the infestations- Afghanistan is reasonably close to the equator, but Minnesota and Amazonia (which is probably the most dangerous infestation, long-term) are going to require either highly inclined or polar orbits to reach. That cuts down on payload by a lot, and if you're launching into polar orbit you can't use the KSC facilities without running the risk of firebombing Orlando. Vandenberg was going to be fitted out to launch the shuttle, but processing speed would be much slower.

What you might well see would be some kind of permanent parent facility, manned or unmanned, that accepts kinetic kill munitions as they're shipped up the gravity well. Then, when you have enough smash put together, you start shifting your orbit using an efficient thruster such as a solar sail or ion drive. You keep launching stuff up to it as the orbit slowly shifts, although the process gets less and less efficient. Eventually you're overflying your target, then you hit the Big Red Button.

Going to take time to set up. In 1986 Mir just launched, so you could use that for the core, but you'd need to add weapons systems and your drive mechanism. Probably end up using big dumb boosters to put the actual rods up, and save the Shuttles for stuff that actually needs humans around- orbital assembly missions, supply runs, crew changeouts, and so forth. Shuttle flights are going to be limited, especially since at the time the invasion starts Shuttle is grounded due to the Challenger accident and historically did not return to flight until September of 1988.

Edit: You'd probably also not want to try for an instant kill on an entire infestation. Takes too much time. What you'd hope to do would be to deliver a lot of death and destruction, zorch as much biomass as possible, and then move in with some kind of armored troops to take back as much territory as possible before it can regenerate. Then, when it starts bouncing back, you shift back to containment and start launching rockets again.

Slow strategy, and it requires you figure out how to contain it first, but I think it's probably the best shot against these things long-term. And it raises the possibility of Mir as a tungsten-armed, solar-sailing international orbital Death Star, raining fire down on the cursed xenos. Which makes me smile.