The Caliphate Invasion Page 18

  “For better or worse, the Iraq war ended a long time ago. General, your assistance is a blessing. We only ask that you give us safe passage through your lines so that we can report to our fellow countrymen.”

  “But of course, Captain. Won’t be a problem. Who do you think requested we prioritize reclaiming this sector?”

  “So it’s true? We’ve heard rumors there was a large American contingent in Baghdad.”

  Hamadani snorted. “Unfortunately, yes. I haven’t seen so many crusaders since the occupation. Well, the roads are clear, but I’ll loan you one of my officers to make sure you have no trouble at the checkpoints and—”

  Kat jumped back into the argument, but she only pumped her clenched fist over the general’s shoulder. One of the Hip transports hovered above the flatbed truck hauling the remnants of the crashed ship from Basrah. Several Iranian soldiers attached cables to the wreckage.

  “That’s ours! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s the only payment we require for helping you. Excellent job, by the way. We’ve shot down scores of these drone aircraft, but they always self-destruct. Nobody has ever captured one intact before. We’ll put it to good use. Unlike America, Iran wasn’t bombarded completely back to the Stone Age. We still have factories capable of manufacturing duplicate weapons. Maybe we can reverse engineer their anti-gravity propulsion system. Perhaps we’ll even share the technology, once the US agrees to pull out of the Middle East entirely…”

  Hamadani trailed off and dropped his hand to his holster. For the first time in their short acquaintance, a shadow of fear flashed across Hamadani’s face as he gaped at someone behind Kat. She hadn’t known Smith even survived the fight until he strolled up with his arms outstretched. He embraced the general tenderly and pecked both his cheeks.

  “My dear General, it’s been too long! How have you been? I never did congratulate you on your promotion.”

  Hamadani shoved him away, but kept his voice neutral. “Perhaps I should be thanking you. My predecessor was far from retirement. He had many great years left. What terrible luck for his plane to crash en route to Damascus. Especially on the eve of a major Syrian offensive he was overseeing. How strange that a brand new Gulfstream could crash so suddenly. A shame that the only witness around was an American Reaper drone…”

  Smith covered his heart with both hands. “How tragic. I’m truly sorry. Well, Syria is such a dangerous place. Maybe one of those many bloodthirsty rebel groups shot him down? A shame he didn’t heed our warnings to stay home. Anyway, how’s the family? Does your son still attend the University of Qom?”

  Smith leaned in and whispered. They both switched to impassioned Farsi. Kat couldn’t understand a word, but she recognized cussing in any language.

  After a minute, Hamadani turned and barked at his troops. They unfastened the cables around the wrecked ship and stepped away. The general crossed his arms.

  “Leave. Now. All of you.”

  Kat and her team hustled to collect their fallen without a word, but Smith couldn’t resist a final goodbye.

  “Always a pleasure, General. Stay safe. May Allah watch over you.”

  Hamadani’s cheek twitched. “Next time we meet, Mr. Smith, I’ll introduce you to him.”

  Homecoming

  Mother Gaia Homestead

  “Look at this place. Has it really only been eight hours since we left?” Heiko parked as close to the commune’s central barn as possible, but at least a hundred yards farther away than normal. The maze of RV’s and tents had easily doubled while they were gone.

  Rachel hopped out and waved at Rand in the distance. She disengaged herself from the circle of strangers around the camp’s giant communal gazebo, the closest thing they had to a conference room. Dixon whistled as she strutted up to them with a clipboard in hand.

  “Oh Lordy! Don’t you scrub up good? I hardly recognized you in a pantsuit and only half as many rhinestones as usual. What’s the occasion?”

  Rand gave him a wink and a little smile before nudging his arm. “Got to put on airs for our guests. Sometimes even a hippy has to play the game.”

  Her giddiness vanished as she peered into the pickup truck’s bed. She cocked her head at Neil. He just fumbled with his rolling papers.

  “No luck. You wouldn’t believe the day we’ve had.”

  Dixon sucked in a deep breath. “Hey, the important thing is we came back in one piece. At least we found some diesel. You won’t believe…”

  Rand whirled on him. “That’s not the only thing you brought back. Is there anything you touch that doesn’t explode?” She punched her clipboard and waved it at the tent city around them.

  “We’ve had a hundred defectors from some religious militia swarm in today, most of them with families in tow, looking to enlist in something called the ‘High Springs Minutemen.’ Supposedly we sent a scouting party out looking for recruits. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, huh? They had more firepower than we could ever dream of, so it’s not like I could turn them down.”

  Rachel slapped her knee laughing and stuck up her hand. Dixon chuckled back and high-fived her. Rand jumped in his face.

  “You think this is fucking funny? I send you out on a discrete hunt for supplies and you come back empty handed, but with half the state beating down the door!”

  “Don’t forget making friends with a heavily armed, apocalyptic cult.”

  “Shut up, Dixon. I knew you were an idiot from the first moment I laid eyes on you, but Neil… I expected better from you!”

  Dixon snapped his fingers and redirected her rage. “Hey, it’s not his fault. It was all my idea. Besides, what’s the big deal? You used to have directionless refugees pouring in all the time, but now you’re flooded by people that want to help. Seems like an improvement. You’re welcome.”

  Rand crossed her eyes and jammed a thumb into her temple. She mumbled to herself for a moment before tossing the clipboard on the truck’s hood and squatting on the fender.

  “Maybe you’re right, if we could slowly transition everyone in over several days, but this is just getting out of hand. Between the FEMA raiders and your fantasy militia, everyone and their cousin is coming out of hiding. I don’t mean just the new refugees wanting to volunteer. No, the whole neighborhood is up in arms. It started with a few dozen nearby farmers and ranchers begging to join up with us right after you left. They need our manpower as much as they want our protection, so I agreed in exchange for half their harvest. Seemed like a smart move at the time.”

  Rand tossed up her hand at a splattering of spaced out tents on the perimeter of camp. “My greediness opened the floodgates. Now these Prepper folks are literally crawling out of the woodwork and looking for stability. Just when I’d had enough, then came the ‘Minutemen’ rumors. I’ve spent the last few hours negotiating with delegates from every village and town in the county. They’re all demanding an alliance or some equivalent. That sheriff over there, for example, is under the impression that we have some super-powerful militia. He wants to merge our forces with his and create a ‘Free American Army.’ Can you believe that? The more I tell them this whole thing is bullshit, the more they think I’m hiding something and am just trying to extract concessions. It’s God damn surreal!”

  Dixon glanced at the dignitaries around the cold campfire, all still feverishly making plans even without Rand. “It makes sense. Someone has to fill the power vacuum. We were the first to stand up to the invaders. We gave these people hope. What did you expect was going to happen?”

  A vein in Rand’s forehead bulged as wide as her eyes. She leapt at Dixon. “Is that the rumor you’ve been spreading? ‘We’ were minding our own business. You were the one building bombs and provoking those FEMA psychopaths. We could have just paid our taxes and been left alone. Now we’re on the front lines of some damn tribal war!”

  Despite the spittle flying in his face, Dixon grinned. He tried hard not to glance at the
plump chest shoved against his own. “You’re smarter than that, Rand. If you really believe they would have just left us alone, then why’d you kill the guy who was trying to kill me? He could have ended all your problems.”

  Rand eyed him up and down for a solid ten seconds before stepping away. Dixon frowned in confusion as she shook her head and brushed her hair back. “Oh, I’ve got much bigger problems with you than that. What’s done is done.” Dixon noticed Rachel rolling her eyes while Rand chuckled to herself.

  “Well, come on then. You’ve just been promoted to the executive council, General Dixon.”

  “General, huh? I can play the part.”

  “Who said anything about playing? We’re going to take the sheriff up on his offer.”

  Dixon squinted at the tents in the distance. “Smart call, but it’s going to take some time. We still don’t have many weapons and even if we did, you can’t just shove a gun in someone’s hand, snap your fingers and instantly make them a soldier. There’s too much training involved for one guy to handle it all.”

  “Ah, I don’t think weapons will be hard to come by. Sure, we can’t match the machine guns and heavy hardware all these other militias looted from the National Guard, but we won’t be helpless. Most of these farmers are just small family operations. They have more guns than hands to use them. Shouldn’t be hard to swap labor for firearms. Also, don’t forget…”

  Rand pointed at a loose collection of tactically geared-up men and women on the edge of camp. The preppers sat together, but eyed each other warily.

  “You aren’t starting from scratch. Dealing with those rugged individualists is your punishment. Most of them claim to have been in the military. They’re sure armed like they still are. If you can get them to take orders from us ‘sheeple,’ then you already have a cadre of sergeants and officers or whatever. Go introduce yourself. Good luck.”

  “Wait, you’re sending me out to cook up an army all on my own? You trust me that much? What are you busy with that’s more important?”

  Rand clucked her tongue. “Making sure we’ll never have to use this militia. We’re going to turn this collective into neutral ground. I’m thinking a weapons-free regional trade center. Like an old-fashioned bazaar, if you will. We’ll collect a small fee for our services, of course, and moderate disputes in the fairgrounds, but we won’t get involved in any petty tribal conflicts. Since we can’t hide any longer, this is our best chance to stay out of any thorny political entanglements.”

  Dixon whistled. “Pretty ambitious, but aren’t you forgetting the dark side of capitalism? Political power flows directly from economic power…”

  Rand bumped the clipboard against her thigh. “Just stick to building our defense force and leave the politics to me and the council, okay?”

  Dixon snapped off a parade-ground perfect salute. “Yes, ma’am. Spoken like a true politician.”

  “Oh, go to hell!” Rand spun around and stormed off, while Dixon grinned at the new spring in her step.

  Day Seven

  Camp “Resolute”

  Baghdad International Airport

  “Man, this brings back memories.” Captain Dore sipped an ice-cold can of soda and stared out the window. Kat pinned her freshly washed hair back and grunted. She was still getting used to the luxuries of a fully functioning base. Clean uniforms, ample hot chow and, the height of decadence, unlimited hot water.

  “Yeah, I never thought I’d be happy to see this place again. Especially not without Michaels.”

  She grabbed a knock-off brand energy drink from the well-stocked cooler in the conference room and joined the captain. Out the window, the Baghdad International Airport hummed with action. Aircraft from a half-dozen nations littered the airfield. Troops and vehicles from a dozen more lands camped out on the surrounding fields. The base wasn’t even this packed during the US-led occupation of Iraq, when the airport served as the coalition army’s primary headquarters and logistics center.

  Captain Dore studied Kat’s eyes as they swelled with memories. He didn’t bother with speeches nor promises of medals to buoy her spirit. He just squeezed Kat’s shoulder. Kat leaned in a bit, but couldn’t meet his eyes, not with the tearful reflection of all her dead brothers shimmering back from her leader.

  “It’s all too…” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat before either of them could cry. “Not now. So what’s the next step, sir? Are we ever going to start this meeting?”

  They’d been wallowing in Green Zone luxury for almost two days, yet no one had shown them the slightest interest. A group of military intelligence folk had clucked over the salvaged enemy drone, but otherwise her team had been lost in the bureaucratic shuffle. She’d spent hours filling out incident reports and hand receipts. Even out here in the field, post apocalypse, Big Army found ways to indulge its paperwork fetish.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. An aide for some general I’ve never heard of told me to assemble what’s left of my command staff here, post haste.”

  Kat plopped down in one of the conference room’s plushy chairs. “Wasn’t that two hours ago? If they can’t figure out a mission for us, I say let’s make our own. Let’s hitch a ride with the next bird heading Stateside and see what we can do back home.”

  She gave Dore a little wink. “I’m only half joking. It’s not like there’s any functioning personnel department around. If we put on some civvies and claim to be refugees… well, who can prove how many years we have left on our contracts?”

  Sergeant Tamayo gave a dry laugh from the other end of the cheap table. “The world might be over, but the military hasn’t changed. You know the drill. Hurry up and wait. Trust me, they haven’t forgotten about us. They’re just cooking up an extra nasty chore.” He had his rifle splayed out in twenty pieces on the table before him. This was the tenth time she’d seen him cleaning his weapon since arrival. Kat didn’t say anything. Some people had far worse nervous ticks.

  Kat gulped the last of her glorified sugar water down and alley-upped the can towards the trash bucket by the entrance. The door swung open at the same time. The can narrowly missed some sergeant major trumping in and barking, “Group, attention!”

  Kat and company snapped-to as a greying American general sauntered in. He was deep in hushed conversation with his Iranian counterpart. A multi-national flock of staff officers coasted in their wake, chirping at each other in English, Farsi and Arabic.

  The American general finally glanced up and noticed the Special Forces team. “Oh, at ease, everyone. Take a seat, please. It’ll be just a moment.”

  They actually waited ten minutes while the generals gossiped over a map. Kat had as little to do as the small Iraqi military contingent in the corner. Like them, she waited in silence for orders.

  At length, the American general nodded and turned to the operators lounging around the table. “I just wanted to wish you all good luck.” He clapped Captain Dore on the shoulder. “Your team has done one hell of a job so far, Captain Donaldson. There’s a lot riding on this next mission, but we have every confidence in you and your men. You boys are true heroes!”

  Kat reigned in a laugh. Even as the general shook her hand, he never pried his eyes off his Blackberry. The general and most of his entourage left without another word. Captain Dore cocked his head at the two officers, an American major and some Iranian of equivalent rank, that stayed behind.

  “What the hell was that about, sir?”

  “Don’t mind the general. He’s a little… preoccupied. So you haven’t been briefed? All right, here’s the short version then. We’ve pinpointed an alien raiding ship, the same type you encountered kidnapping people in Basrah, on the ground. It landed yesterday and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Your team is going to capture it for us.”

  Dore nodded contemplatively and dug out his notepad. Kat blanched.

  “Aliens? Are you freaking serious, sir? What about the Russians?”

  The US officer raised an eyebrow. “You real
ly haven’t heard much, have you? I thought you were with Smith’s party. I assumed you were in the loop.”

  “Not by a long shot. Where is Smith, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we got here. Is he CIA or NSA?”

  The major shrugged. “I don’t know where or what Smith is. That’s far beyond my pay grade. So you’re telling me you survived a fight with the alien drones, even captured one intact, yet still have no idea what they are? I… well, okay. Listen, we don’t have time to bring you up to speed on everything. We’ll do that after the mission. There’s only a small window of opportunity here and we’re launching in a few hours. We need to speed this along if you want a chance to squeeze in a dry run.”

  Dore tapped his pen. “Roger. So where is this enemy ship we’re supposed to attack?”

  “Ah, good.” The major unfolded a large map of northern Iraq and eastern Syria. “Right here…”

  Dore did a double take, cracking his stoic façade. “Syria? Sir, that’s deep inside ISIS-held territory.”

  “Not anymore. It’s UN-occupied territory now. Ever since the alien attacks, the strategic situation has shifted dramatically. For some reason the enemy has left the Middle East mostly unscathed and we’re taking full advantage of their oversight. Crazy as it sounds, but this area is the closest thing the world has to a safe zone at the moment. We’re surging every military asset we can muster into the region.”

  The major dropped a clear map overlay down. Thousands of little blue unit markers littered the sheet from the Mediterranean to the Persian Gulf.

  “On the plus side, ISIS and the other Jihadis have mostly gone underground since we flooded the Middle East with foreign troops. What you bumped into down in Babylon was one of their last marauding forces. ISIS is now an army without a country. In the last week, our coalition has wrestled back control of every insurgent-held town in both Syria and Iraq.”