 
                          CAMP – Ron’s Journey
 
Chapter 26
 
The Purview of the Diplomats
 
_ _
 
            Cindy came in the room as the Great Seal of the United
States of America appeared on the screen.  She stood shyly near the
doorway until Ron acknowledged her presence.
 
            "May I watch the speech with you, Master?" she asked
quietly.
 
            "Yes, Cindy.  Come over here and sit by me."
 
            Quickly, Cindy moved to the sofa and sat as close to Ron as
she dared.  There was still a good foot between them.  Ron smiled for a
moment, and moved over until their legs were touching.  He put his arm
around her shoulder, and pulled her to him.  He needed to feel like he
could at least protect this one life, and, truth be told, he'd not had
a chance to get to know her yet.  They settled back to watch the
president's speech.
 
            "My fellow Americans", he began, as usual, "I have some
disturbing news for you this evening.  Earlier today, in a totally
unprovoked attack, an American naval battle group was sunk in the North
Atlantic ocean.  While most of the crews onboard those ships survived,
many were killed.  The survivors of this horrible act are presently
enjoying the hospitality of the British government, until they have
been checked out medically.  They will be returning home soon.
 
            "There is no reason for this attack to have happened.  The
battle group was in international waters, and they were not performing
any exercises, nor were they gathering intelligence information.  This
attack was brutal, came with no warning, and gave no regard for the
lives involved.
 
            "This attack was carried out by ships bearing the naval
ensign of the Red Banner Northern Fleet.  That is to say, these ships,
while nominally under the control of the Russian government, were
flying a *Soviet* flag.  I have spoken personally with the pilots who
saw these flags, and have had the information verified by other means. 
I can only come to a few conclusions about why such a flag would be
flying on a Russian vessel.  I do not like any of them.
 
            "Our ambassador to the United Nations has called for an
emergency meeting of the Security Council.  We will have answers for
this attack.
 
            "Now, ladies and gentlemen, as distressing as this
information is, I must present you with an even more unusual report. 
It has come to the attention of the United States government that there
are people in this country with..."
 
            "Oh, God, he's going to say it," Ron murmured.  Cindy
merely watched.
 
            "... 'special abilities'.  They refer to themselves as
'psionics'.  Now, while I don't understand how they are capable of
doing what they do, I have witnessed myself the powers of one of these
people.  I assure you that these people are real, and that they can do
what they claim.
 
            "Now, I know you are asking yourself how these people tie
in with today's attack.  All I can tell you is that they, the psionics,
have presented to us information that this attack was not perpetrated
by the Russian government, but by a sect of Russian psionics.  We have
also been told that these Russian psionics intend on causing our
country great harm.
 
            "This is what we intend to do..."
 
            For the next half hour, Ron sat staring, unbelieving, at
the television set.  If there was any one thing he would have cautioned
against doing, *this* was it.  You could not slap such information down
in front of the American people this way: they would go ballistic over
it.  It had never occurred to Ron to simply stop the man during the
broadcast, nor had he thought beforehand to instruct the president not
to talk about the PPA.
 
            "Shit."
 
            "Master?"  Cindy, who had watched the broadcast with more
confusion than anything, interrupted Ron's train of thought.
 
            "What is it, Cindy?"
 
            "Is there going to be trouble for us?"
 
            "There could be, Cindy.  There very well could be."
 
            "I'm scared."
 
            Ron hugged the girl closer to him.  "So am I."  He leaned
down and kissed her, and she melted into his arms.  They held each
other for some time, kissing like that, until someone coughed quietly,
to interrupt them.
 
            Cindy broke off quickly, but Ron didn't let go of her as he
looked up.  "Yes?"
 
            It was Megan who was standing in the doorway.  "I'm sorry,
Master, but the family asked me to come get you... I can tell them to
wait if..."
 
            "No, that's okay.  I can pick up where we left off later. 
Come on, Cindy," Ron pulled her up from the couch, and led her into the
living room.  When Ron stepped into the room, he felt an odd sense of
deja vu, as if he had seen this before.  Then he realized where the
feeling came from, and he suddenly felt very old.  He was remembering
another family meeting, in a different house.  The faces were
different, and everyone was a few years older now, but the meaning was
the same: they were looking to Ron for guidance.  He looked at each
face in turn: Sandra, Nikki, Linda, Nancy, Megan and Cindy.  Jessica
the puma lay in the corner, head on her paws, eyes alert and observant,
while Jill sat next to her, scratching between the puma's ears.  Karen
and Lars were also there, sitting across the room from the family.  It
was as if a line had been drawn between those members who were
responsible for the meeting, and those who were only observing.  Lt.
Saunders stood at a doorway, unsure whether she should be present for
this or not.  Ron motioned her into the room with his eyes.  She took
the seat nearest the door.
 
            "Okay, someone wanted to say something, so let's not waste
any time," Ron started.  His tone didn't really surprise anyone after
the last few days.  They knew Ron really needed a good night's sleep,
but they had to get this over with.
 
            Linda was the one to speak up.  "Ron, we're worried.  Is
all of what the President said true?"
 
            "Most of it.  He screwed up some of the details, but the
basic ideas he got right."
 
            "But how can you beat them, Ron?" Nikki asked.
 
            "I'm not going to do it alone," he answered.  Just then, he
remembered there was something he needed to do.  Without interrupting
his family, he sent out a telepathic message to Jeff Durant.  *<Jeff,
it's Ron.  Get your people together and be at my house tomorrow morning
at 9 am.>*
 
*            <Will do, Ron,>* was Jeff's response.
 
            However, Ron had missed his mother's question.  "Sorry,
Mom, I was thinking.  What did you ask?"
 
            "I said," she started, trying to keep her voice calm, but
not able to keep the quiver out of it, "Why do you have to go fight?"
 
            "Who else is going to?"
 
            "Let the government do it.  That's why we have a military,
isn't it?"
 
            "Yeah, they managed real well today, didn't they?  Mom,
these Russians aren't going to concern themselves with regular people
for very long.  Soon, they're going to start coming after people just
like me.  And eventually, they'll come after me.  So, I can either sit
here and wait for them to show up, or I can go out there, find them,
and kick their asses back to Siberia or wherever the hell they come
from."
 
            He looked to each person, seeing in their face the fear he
also felt.  His sister's face was the only one that held any
confidence, and he thanked her silently for it.  When he looked at
Nancy's face, however, he stopped.  The look he saw there...
 
            "Nancy?  You have something to say?"
 
            "I want out," she whispered.
 
            "What?" he asked.
 
            "I want out," she said with more force.  "It's not safe
here.  You're a target.  I've already been put in the hospital once for
you.  I don't want to get killed over some stupid war!  It's not worth
it!"
 
            "Nancy, come off it-" Linda started to say, but Ron
interrupted her.
 
            "Okay.  If you want to go, then go.  I'm sorry, I don't
have time to bother convincing you that you're wrong.  I suppose if I
can let my own sister go," Ron paused for a moment before his voice
cracked, "Then letting you go should be easy.  You're welcome back here
anytime you like.  Megan will help you pack."
 
            Nancy stood on shaky legs.  "Thank you, Ron.  I'm sorry." 
She left the room in tears.  As Megan was about to follow her out, Ron
stopped her for a moment.
 
            "Do you have any questions, Megan?  Do you want to leave?"
 
            "Master, I belong to you.  I could no more leave your house
than I could turn my nose upside-down.  I will follow your
instructions."  She gave him a hug, bowed slightly, and left the room.  

            Ron turned to the rest.  "As much as I hate to admit it,
Nancy’s right: I *am* a target.  She may not be wrong in wanting to get
out while the getting is good.  If anyone else wants to leave now, I
won't try to stop you."
 
            Ron's heart froze as his sister got up from the couch.  He
was certain it didn't make a single beat as she walked over to him. 
She looked up at her big brother, and then threw her arms around his
neck.  She whispered in his ear, "I don't know about the rest, Big
Brother, but I wouldn't leave you if you asked me to!"  She kissed him
softly on the cheek, and stepped away.  "I'm gonna go help Nancy and
Megan."  Ron watched her leave the room before he turned to see the
others.  No one else said a word.
 
            "Okay.  Now then.  Tomorrow, we begin preparing for war.  I
gave each of you a big manila folder some time ago.  In it are your
assigned duties.  There will be a lot of people coming to this house in
the next few weeks, and it's our job to take care of them.  I will
redistribute Nancy's jobs as soon as I-" Ron's train of thought
derailed as he saw Kimberly standing behind him.  It wasn't that he
hadn't heard her coming that distracted him.  It was how she looked in
her very feminine white cotton dress.  It had short sleeves, and it
ended just above her knees, and it made her look beautiful.  His mind
was not registering any thought until she spoke.
 
            "Am I interrupting, sir?"
 
            Ron's brain finally kicked back into gear and he found his
voice.  "Uh.. no, not at all.  Is there something you needed to say?"
 
            "I was wondering if my men would have a place to stay here
while we're preparing for the war."
 
            "Oh.  Yes, they can use the old facility.  Karen, could you
show Kimberly the facility, and see what needs to be done to equip it
for her men?"
 
            "Yes, sir!" Karen said in a mock-military voice that
brought a smile, however brief, to Ron's face.  As they left, Ron's
eyes trailed along Kimberly's back, down to her tight, round ass, and
past that to her lovely legs.  His attention was once again refocused
by another question from his mother.
 
            "Will we be safe here, Ron?"
 
            "As safe as I can make it, Mom.  I'm going to leave guards
here all the time, and if necessary, we can use the underground
facilities."
 
            "What underground facilities?" Linda asked.
 
            "When I had them build the reprogramming facility, I also
had them dig a set of tunnels and bunkers underground.  I never told
anyone because I didn't want it to be common knowledge.  There's food
and supplies under there to feed dozens of people for a couple of
years."
 
            "My word!  How many people are you expecting to come
here?"  Lt. Saunders spoke for the first time.
 
            "About fifty or so.  My associates have established larger
refuges all around the country, and more people will be hidden there. 
I'm afraid I can't protect very many.  We're protecting the people
closest to us.  I know that's selfish, but how else do you choose whom
to save?"
 
            "I understand.  No, I agree with you.  You do what you
can.  Trying to exceed your limits just gets everybody killed."
 
            "Thanks." 

 
 
            Ron awoke the next morning at 9:27 am.  He knew the time
exactly because his eyes opened to behold the alarm clock staring him
in the face.  His first focused thought was, *Why didn't my alarm go
off?*  His next thought was that Jeff and company should already be in
the house.  He sat up in bed, setting his feet on the floor before he
realized he was not alone.
 
            Cindy was standing silently by the door, gazing at her
master.  He smiled at her, and she bowed her head, with a sheepish grin
on her face, having been caught staring at him.  Ron remembered last
night very well.  He had been far too tired to do anything with the
girl, but she had given him a wonderful massage until he'd fallen
asleep.  He never heard her leave the room.  It never occurred to him
that she hadn't.
 
            "Why didn't my alarm go off?" he asked her.
 
            "I'm sorry, Master, but your mother asked me to turn it off
so that you could rest.  Was it wrong of me?"  Her voice betrayed her
worry at displeasing her master.
 
            "No, no.  That's fine, Mom's probably right, anyway.  Do
you know if Jeff is here yet?"
 
            "I do not, Master.  I have been waiting for you to wake up."
 
            "How long have you been standing there?"
 
            "Four hours and twenty-eight minutes, sir."
 
            "Christ!"  He stood up and walked over to her.  She looked
up into his face as he almost towered over her.  He wrapped his arms
around her, and hugged her to him.  "You are a very loyal person,
aren't you?"
 
            "I am here to serve you, sir.  That is how it is supposed
to be, is it not?"
 
            "I guess...  Look, from now on, could you maybe actually
*sleep* at night?  I don't need you to watch over me while I dream."
 
            "As you wish, sir."
 
            "Thanks.  Now, I need some food.  What say we go get some
breakfast?"
 
 
 
            The small TV in the kitchen was on as Ron made himself a
bowl of cereal.  Lt. Saunders was sitting at the table, drinking coffee
and watching the news.  What Ron saw on the news stopped him cold.
 
            "In the streets of LA and Chicago," the anchor reported,
"the rioting has already begun.  Anyone suspected of being a psionic is
being beaten.  People are leaving the cities in droves, in hopes that
they might avoid whatever fighting might damage their homes."
 
            As the picture changed back to the anchor, he was joined by
a commentator.  The anchor said, "Walt, what do you make of all this?"
 
            "Well, Ted," said Walt, "This is all reminiscent of the
Salem witch hunts.  I've done what little investigating I can about
these psionics, and, like witches, you just can't tell one by looking
at them.  On a more important note, however, I'd like to point out that
if the information provided to us by the President is accurate, it may
be foolhardy of us to be attacking the only people who have a chance of
stopping the foreign menace."
 
            "Thank you, Walt.  We'll be back with more information,
right after this."
 
            "And so it begins," Ron said gloomily.
 
            "You couldn't have prevented this," Lt. Saunders said.
 
            "Yes, Lieutenant-"
 
            "Please call me Shelly.  This is so informal."
 
            "Okay, Shelly.  I could have easily prevented this, if I'd
had the wits to prevent the President from making a jackass out of
himself, and us, on national television."
 
            "Well, it's done now.  You really can't go back and fix it,
so there's not much point in worrying over it, is there?"
 
            "I suppose not.  Thanks, I needed the support."
 
            "No problem.  But, may I ask, what *are* you going to do
about the Russians?"
 
            "The same thing everyone does in a war: find the enemy,
kill the enemy, find more of the enemy, and so on.  The thing that
makes this war different from most is that geography will play
absolutely no part in the strategy.  It makes little difference that
there's a hill in front of you if you can just fly over it."
 
            "I see your point."
 
            Ron finished up his breakfast, and then went to find his
fellow soldiers.  Linda approached him as he entered the living room. 
"Ron, I sewed something together for you, I hope you like it."  She
held out a blue flag with an eagle on it, clutching in its talons an
American flag.  The eagle was bathed in a radiant red light, and there
were five stars arrayed around the eagle.  At the top of the flag were
the words, "Provisional Psionic Army".  At the bottom were the words,
"Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom".
 
            Ron inhaled sharply.  It was a lot of work for a single
day.  "How did you finish this so fast?"
 
            "Actually, I had most of it done a while back.  But you
hadn't given yourself a name yet.  When you told the President what you
were calling your troops, I just sewed that into the flag."
 
            "Wow.  What are the five stars for?"
 
            "It's a command flag.  Every army has a single
commander-in-chief, right?  And he's always a five star general."
 
            Ron just chuckled as he pulled her to him, and kissed her
warmly on the lips.  He broke the kiss as he heard someone enter the
room.
 
            It was Jeffrey Durant.  He was dressed in what would be
considered military uniform by anyone who had not been in the
military.  It was then that Ron realized that he probably ought to
establish a uniform code for his army as well.  But it could wait.
 
            "Sir!" barked Jeff, "Your troops are assembled on the front
lawn, and ready for inspection, sir!"  Jeff made a good attempt at a
salute.  Ron was so impressed by the gesture that he was compelled to
return it.
 
            "Very well, Mr. Durant.  Lead on."
 
            They walked out to the front of the house.  Arrayed before
Ron was a company of over a hundred psionics.  Ron turned to Jeff.  "I
thought you said about thirty?"
 
            "Well, sir, after the things that have happened lately, and
especially after the President's speech last night... well, sir... the
numbers grew a little."
 
            "I see that.  Very well."  Ron pointed to the soldier
nearest the flagpole that Ron had erected some weeks ago.  "You, bring
the flag down."  Ron was cradling Linda's flag in his arms yet.  He
walked over as the man brought the flag down.  As it reached the
bottom, Ron reached up and removed the state flag from the pole.  This
he handed to Jeff, and then clipped Linda's flag to the lower clips. 
Now the flag of the PPA would fly below the American flag at this
house.  "Raise the flag, please."  The man did as requested.
 
            Ron turned to the people as the flag reached three-quarter
height.  In his loudest voice, he bellowed, "Company, atten-hut!" 
There was a crisp sound of boots and shoes coming together as the
troops moved to attention.  "Company... SALUTE!"  In unison, all of the
men present did their best at a proper salute to the flags.  "Two!" 
Ron had watched enough military movies to know the proper wording for
the honor guard, but now he needed to speak frankly with the people
before him.
 
            "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Provisional Psionic
Army of the United States of America.  As you heard last night on
television, the existence of psionics is no longer a closely held
secret.  As much as I disagree with our President's method of handling
the situation, we must now adapt to the conditions we are presented
with.  We have an unknown amount of time to establish a chain of
command, to solidify tactics and strategies, and to train for the
coming war.  The Russians have the upper hand: they knew when the
attack was coming.  However, no foreigner has *ever* won a war fought
on American soil, and I'll be damned if they're going to start now!" 
That elicited a cheer from the group.
 
            "Now then, I want you all to sign in.  Megan here has a
brief form for you to fill out.  All I need to know is your name, your
training, your specialty, and your experience.  If you've been given
some kind of rating by some psionic organization, tell me that, too.  I
need to know these things so we can plan effectively.  Other troops
will be joining us later today, and our numbers will hopefully continue
to grow as we begin training.  I will be spending a great deal of my
time trying to get us as many troops as I can, and as many allies as I
can.  The US government is on our side for now, but let's not count on
them to stay that way.  We will expect only minimal support from our
country.  I'm not going to give you some Kennedy bullshit about what
you can do for your country.  Look, our lives are on the line as much
as anyone else's in this thing.  The Russians are threatening our way
of life, and our freedom.  If *we* don't stop them, there is little
chance that anyone else can.  If anyone has second thoughts about
fighting with us, now is your only chance of backing out without really
pissing me off.  I'm not going to stand here and blow sunshine up your
ass: this is going to be hard, and some of us are probably going to
die.  Hopefully, we'll take a lot of those damned bastards with us when
it happens.  If you want out, leave now.  If you're with me, then let's
get to work!"  Another loud cheer erupted from the group.  

Just then, a van and two buses pulled up.  Kimberly stepped out of the
lead van, now decked out in her warrior garb again.  He watched as she
strode toward him, taking powerful steps, her long legs moving swiftly
and gracefully through the crowd.  Though her appearance was very
feminine, she exuded power, and the troops parted to let her through.
 
            As she reached Ron, she knelt, and bowed her head.  She
remained that way, waiting, until he heard in his head a message from
Lars, who was watching.  *<You need to let her up now.>*
 
            Ron grinned sheepishly.  "You may rise, Hunter."
 
            Kimberly stood before him, just as tall as he was.  "I have
brought the Hunters to you, sir."
 
            "I see... but this looks like more than fifty, Kimberly."
 
            "Yes, sir.  There are some other trusted associates along. 
Not all of them were members of the ShadowDragon.  Some were freelance,
some were members of other, much smaller guilds.  I hope you do not
object to their presence?"
 
            He caught the worry in her voice.  Was everyone afraid of
displeasing him anymore?  "That's fine, Kim.  The more, the merrier at
this point.  I need your men... uh, *people* to sign in, so that I know
what I've got to work with."
 
            "Yes, sir!" Kimberly answered, and turned on her heel to
return to her men.  He watched her go with no small admiration.  Her
legs showed to good advantage beneath her battle skirt, and her tunic
clung to her back, her hair tucked into the tunic to keep it out of the
way.  She was female in every way, but not someone to be trifled with.
 
 
 
            And so the first days went.  By the end of the first week,
Ron had amassed an army of 462 people, men and women alike.  He allowed
no one under the age of 13 to fight, but he allowed them to remain, and
to continue their training.  He hoped that he wouldn't need them.  He
hoped the war would not drag on until some of them reached their
thirteenth birthday.  

 
 
            Ron also started pulling his friends in, gathering them
into his home for their safety.  Though he was around to keep an eye on
things, he put Jill in charge of making sure everyone had a place to
sleep, and anything else they truly needed.  He knew that she
appreciated having something to do, and he was certain she would be
able to handle anything that might come up.
 
            He was wrong.
 
 
 
            "I'm sorry, sir, but your names are not on my list," Jill
said softly.  Her harsh manner had vanished under Ron's mastery.  "I am
only allowed to admit people who are on this list."
 
            "Look," the man said, pleading with her, "Can you just go
get Ron, so that we can talk to him about this?"  The fear and concern
in his voice, along with her profound desire not to make a mistake,
decided the matter for her.
 
            "Cindy, could you please go get Ron and ask him to come
here?"  The people were silent as the young girl left, and remained
that way until she brought Ron back to the sign-in table.
 
            "What's up, Jill?"  None of the people in front of him had
turned around, but Ron thought he recognized a certain red hairdo, and
a certain pair of legs anyway.  He moved around to stand beside Jill
before looking at them.
 
            He saw before him the O'Rourke family: Sean, Kylie, and
their daughter, Tammy.  Nikki's former friend, Tammy.  The Tammy who
used to live in this house.  The Tammy that he had asked to leave.  He
saw the fear in their eyes.  He saw the pleading in their eyes.  He
knew now why he was not doing this job personally.
 
            "Cindy, go get Nicole."  He had used her full name in order
to keep his emotions under control.  He could not make a decision about
the O'Rourkes without Nikki's input.  The people again remained silent
as the newest member of the group was summoned.
 
            Soon, Nikki came into the hall, munching on something or
other.  Her view was blocked by Ron, and so she hadn't seen who was
standing before them yet.  "What's up, big brother?"
 
            Ron simply motioned to the people in front of the table. 
"These people are requesting sanctuary."
 
            "What's that got to do with m..."  Her thought trailed off
as she saw who was standing at the table.  A flood of emotions passed
through her as she stared across at an old friend.  Her immediate
reaction was happiness to see her friend, but then memories crowded in,
things said that shouldn't have been, looks given, things left unsaid. 
But it didn't take long before all that was washed away by a single
question.  Could she live with herself if she let Tammy die?
 
            Nikki moved around the table slowly, not revealing the
emotions she felt.  She stood before Tammy, who faced her, but with her
head bowed.  Tammy began to speak softly.
 
            "I know I was wrong, Nikki.  I wish I'd had the courage to
say I was sorry."
 
            Nikki didn't say a word.  She just waited.  Finally, Tammy
looked up into Nikki's eyes.  Nikki smiled and threw her arms around
her old friend.  Tammy hugged her back, and began to cry.  They
remained like that.
 
            Ron leaned down and quietly said to Jill, "Add them to the
list."
 
            "Yes, sir," she replied.
 
            The O'Rourkes looked at Ron gratefully, but he just nodded
to them and left.  Another family would be saved because they had
connections.  Was it the right thing to do?  Ron would never be able to
tell.
 
 
 
*            *People filtered into the facility day and night, until
almost all of them had shown up.  He was with Jill in the entrance
hall, discussing the list with her.
 
            "How many people left, Jill?"
 
            "Only four, sir.  Three of which are the Deneuves, who said
they would be by tomorrow."
 
            "Okay, and the fourth?"
 
            Before she could answer, the doorbell rang once more.  It
was a formality, as there was a guard standing there to prevent
unauthorized guests.  The door was opened by a member of the PPA to
admit a very lovely young woman.  Her auburn hair fell to her
shoulders, and her brown eyes took in the entire room.  Her trim body
was hidden beneath a pair of jeans, a button-up white blouse... and
Ron's old jacket.
 
            "Hello, Ms. Calverson," Ron called, waving her over to the
table.  "Jill, this is Ms. Calverson.  I believe this completes the
list?"
 
            "Yes, sir, it does."
 
            "Good.  Welcome, Ms. -" she raised her hand to stop him.
 
            "Please, could you call me Jenna?  'Ms. Calverson' makes me
sound like a school teacher."
 
            Ron chuckled.  "Okay, Jenna.  I see that you kept the card
I gave you."
 
            "I'd like to thank you again... but I don't know your name."
 
            As Jill stared at her as if to say, *Which planet do you
come from?*  Ron introduced himself.
 
            "Well, thank you, Ron.  I don't know what I would have done
that night without your help... I don't really know why I'm here,
except that it felt safer to be here than it did to be alone at home."
 
            "Not to worry.  You are definitely *not* alone here."  She
smiled at him, and he directed Jill to show her to an available bed. 
Ron moved off to the kitchen to make himself something to eat, turning
his thoughts now to his plans for the coming battles.
 
 
 
            But Ron was not done dealing with local concerns.  The PPA
flag flying over the front lawn had not gone unnoticed.  It was a week
and a half after the formation of the PPA that the protestors showed up.
 
            Ron was roused from his sleep by Linda, who directed him to
look out of the window.  As he did, he saw people with baseball bats
and burning torches, ready to ransack the house, or so it would appear.
 
            "Should I wake up the troops?" Linda asked.
 
            "No.  Wake up Lars and Karen, Jeff...  and Kim.  Have them
meet me at the front door."
 
            Less than five minutes later, they were all standing at the
door.  Ron was amazed at how composed Kim looked, having been rousted
out of bed so early.  Karen looked... well, like she'd just been
rousted out of bed.
 
            Without any words, Ron opened the front door, and they all
stepped outside.  Immediately, they spread out in a line, Karen and
Lars at one end, Jeff at the other.  Kim kept herself slightly behind
the others, but close to Ron.  He wondered why, and asked her
telepathically.
 
            *<I am not as skilled as you or the others.  But I will
back you up as best I can.>*
 
            Ron understood the sentiment, and wished he could be the
follower for a change.  They all advanced until they stood thirty feet
from the front rank of protestors.
 
            "My name is General Ronald Chaffey, Commanding Officer of
the Provisional Psionic Army of the United States of America."  He
pronounced his words slowly, clearly, and loudly, to be heard by all. 
"I would like to speak with your leader or spokesperson at this time. 
I must ask that the rest of you refrain from coming onto our property."
 
            Nothing happened for several moments.  And no one moved
forward to speak with Ron.  Someone, however, did throw a Molotov
cocktail toward the group.  Ron waited until it was an inch above the
ground before stopping it.  He floated it up to his hand, and
extinguished the flame.  He turned his attention back to the crowd.
 
            "Let me make myself perfectly clear.  Our organization has
no interest in harming you, or any other *normal* person on the
planet.  However, if you force us to defend ourselves, I can guarantee
that *every last one of you* will be sent to the hospital for several
days, minimum.  This organization is preparing for combat, and we do
not need this kind of distraction.  Please remove yourselves from the
premises, immediately!"
 
            The crowd burst forward at the end of those words, and Ron
just glared at them.  *Why do people have to be such dickheads?*  He
waited until they'd closed to ten feet, and then he erected his
extension into a wall.  It was almost comical to watch people running
into something that they could almost, but not quite, see, and stop
dead in their tracks.  Ron waited until everyone was pressing against
it, and then he flung his energy outward, flinging the protestors to
the ground, some of them more than twenty feet from where they started.
 
            "That was merely a warning!" he shouted.  "The next attack
will be met with *real* force!"
 
            But these people were not to be reasoned with.  By now, Ron
noticed that a news truck had shown up, and was taping the
confrontation.  He stood with his people, now closed in together,
facing off against a much larger number of people.
 
            *<What do you want us to do, Ron?>* Karen asked.
 
            *<Nothing.  I can handle these guys easily, but I want you
to make it look like you're helping.  I don't want them to know how
strong any single psionic is.>*
 
*            <Understood.>*
 
*            <Kim, I want you to watch my techniques.  Maybe you're not
as strong as the rest of us yet, but I think you can be.>*
 
*            <Yes, sir.  Thank you for your confidence.>*
 
*            *Ron smiled at her momentarily, knowing that she needed a
confidence boost, that she was not used to facing such an unenvious
position as the coming war was likely to put her in.  Once more, Ron
turned to the crowd.
 
            "I will ask you again to leave the premises peacefully!  At
this time you are trespassing on private property!  This is *not*, I
repeat NOT a government installation!  We will not attack you, but we
*will* defend ourselves with as much force as is required!  Leave now!"
 
            Ron's words merely incited the crowd to attack again.  Ron
rolled his eyes, and focused on the lead attacker.  That person was
picked up and physically thrown into the people behind him.  Ron
repeated this four times, five, six.  Still, the people kept coming. 
Finally, Ron had enough.
 
            *<Here comes the biggie.  Make it look like you're
helping.>*
 
            As his friends put a look of concentration on their faces,
Ron formed a wall of fire in front of him.  This wall was pure, pulsing
mental energy.  He pushed it outward, toward the attackers.  The
closest were the most foolish, trying to stand their ground, believing
it to be an illusion.  As the wall touched them and their clothing
burst into flame, they ran, screaming, down the driveway.  Seeing this,
the rest of the attackers moved back, but not quickly enough.  Several
more got singed before it became a mass retreat, and all the protestors
left the premises, running down the road.
 
 
 
            Ron had made sure to keep his attack well away from the
news crew filming the scene.  He didn't want them to report that he had
endangered the life of a journalist.  As soon as the energy wall faded,
they began to move toward Ron.  Both Lars and Kim stepped in front of
him to stop her, but Ron spoke up.
 
            "Let them come."
 
            "But, sir, we don't need this now..." Kimberly said.
 
            Ron laid his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look
him in the eye.  "We have to let the American people know the truth. 
We have to let them know what we're all about.  We can't be fighting
the Russians on one side, and our own people on the other.  As easy as
it is to defeat normals, it is also counter-productive."
 
            His hand did not leave her shoulder as she bowed in
acceptance of his decision.  As she straightened, he removed his hand,
but told her telepathically, *<Stay within the camera shot.  I want the
people to see you dressed like that.>*
 
            Kimberly couldn't tell what was so special about the yellow
sun dress she was wearing, but was willing to follow the orders of her
leader, so she stood behind him, always maintaining a presence in the
shot.
 
            "Mr. Chaffey, I'm Melissa Conway, of Channel 6 news. May we
have a few words with you?"
 
            "By all means, Ms. Conway."
 
            "What was the disturbance here all about?"
 
            "Well, Melissa, some people are concerned about our real
motives and intentions toward the American people.  The President's
words the other night were not entirely clear on just exactly what the
PPA stands for."
 
            "And what *do* you stand for, General Chaffey?"
 
            Ron blew off her use of the title.  "Well, basically, we
believe in liberty, justice, and all the other American ideals.  We
believe that no other nation should attempt to take those things from
the American citizens.  We believe it is our duty to aid our country in
repelling any such threat.  What we do *not* believe in, Melissa, is
threatening ordinary Americans with violence because they are different
in some way.  We don't believe in a separate class of citizenry.  Not
all of the PPA members are American citizens, but all have sworn to
uphold the laws and the Constitution of the United States.  We do what
we do because we believe in it."
 
            "When do you expect the war to reach American soil?"
 
            "I honestly do not know."
 
            "Do you have any damage or casualty estimates?"
 
            "Somewhere between zero and one hundred percent."  He saw
the annoyed look on her face, and so he continued.  "I'm sorry,
Melissa, but anyone who is giving odds on this war is either a fool, or
a damned liar.  I don't know what's going to happen.  I don't know how
many cities will be damaged.  I don't know how many people will have to
die.  All I *do* know," and Ron looked straight into the camera as he
said these next words, "Is that the Russians will take America only
over my dead body."
 
            "Thank you, General Chaffey.  This is Melissa Conway
reporting for Channel 6 news."
 
 
 
            As Ron started to walk away, Melissa caught up with him. 
"How much of what you just told me is hype?"
 
            "Not a damned word of it.  Look, I'm only sixteen.  I'm not
a politician, I'm not a bureaucrat.  Hell, I'm not even *really* a
soldier.  I never wanted this job.  See these people here?  They all
asked me to do it.  I don't want to.  I'd sooner be back in high school
than deal with this shit.  But this is where I am, and this is what I
have to do.  I don't want the American people thinking that we're some
blood-thirsty mob, or some power-hungry group looking to take over. 
All the PPA is, is a group of psionics hoping to stop a war before it
kills all of us."
 
            "You expect me to believe all that?"
 
            "Look, what do I have to do to convince you?"
 
            "How about a look inside this compound?  At your weapons,
and your training?"
 
            "I'll allow that, *if* you'll allow us to view what you put
on the air before you run it.  My only reason for asking for that is
that there are some things we don't want the bad guys to know about:
some of our tactics and the number of people we have, that sort of
thing.  If you can agree to that, then I will give you an exclusive on
this story.  I promise I will give you a good reason for asking you to
not run any piece of footage."
 
            "Agreed."  Her cameraman looked at her in total shock. 
Ron's friends were looking at him in dismay.
 
            *<Relax.  What do you think we have to hide?  Our training
is normal for psionics.  Any special tactics we might use, we're not
going to practice today.  Anything she *might* get that we don't want
her to use, we can stop her from using.  Chill out.  This will make us
look good.>*
 
            Ron's friends suddenly nodded their understanding, and they
all agreed to participate in the story.
 
 
 
            Meanwhile, in the house, Shelly Saunders was wandering,
trying to learn the layout, in case the fighting came here.  When she
ventured into what appeared to be a bedroom wing, she heard muffled
noises coming from one of the bedrooms.  Being the curious type, Shelly
could not help but go to check it out.
 
            Turning in the doorway, she froze, her mouth agape.  What
she saw before her was Sandra Chaffey, matriarch of the household,
fucking herself silly with a dildo.  Her hand was pumping it furiously
in and out of her pussy, while her other hand played with a nipple. 
She was moaning into a pillow in a vain attempt at keeping quiet.  Why
she didn't just shut the door, Shelly would never bother to ask.
 
            The sight she was seeing had Shelly's panties wet in
seconds.  Shelly had never slept with a man, but she'd had plenty of
sex.  And Sandra was one of the most attractive women she'd ever seen
nude.  Her hand slipped up to her breast without her notice, and she
began rubbing herself outside her uniform.  As she watched the
beautiful woman before her excite herself, Shelly's other hand soon
found its way beneath her uniform skirt, and was moving rapidly between
her legs.
 
            Shelly watched for a few more moments before she decided to
take the chance.  She removed her uniform: it would need washing now,
anyway, and stepped fully into the room, closing the door silently
behind her.  Without a sound, she moved toward the bed.
 
            She needn't have been so quiet about it: Sandra was fully
involved in her activity, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. 
When she felt the velvet of someone's tongue slip lightly across her
nipple, however, they opened quickly.  Shelly could feel the
butterflies in her stomach: if the woman screamed, her career was
over.  She had never forced herself on another woman.  She couldn't
stop her tongue, though, and she continued licking Sandra's nipple,
expanding her movements to include most of the one breast.
 
            When Sandra finally reacted, it was to Shelly's great
relief that Sandra gently pulled the girl's head into her breast,
pushing it further into Shelly's mouth.  She sucked and nibbled on the
offered breast, and her hands roamed her partner's body.
 
            Sandra moaned with the sensation of it.  She had been so
horny last night, but Ron had once again not been available.  She was
having one of her few good mornings as of late, and she had taken the
time to relieve her frustration.  It had not occurred to her that she
should close the bedroom door, as she had never bothered before. 
Feeling a new tongue on her body was a pleasure she had not expected,
but most certainly welcomed.
 
            Shelly moved her mouth to the other breast, and kept
massaging Sandra's flesh with her hands.  Soon, one hand found its way
down to the dildo still embedded in Sandra's pussy.  Shelly took hold
of the plastic dick and began moving it in and out of Sandra using
slow, smooth strokes.  Sandra moaned in pleasure.  It was so much
better when you didn't have to do the work yourself.
 
            Shelly's movement of the dildo increased in pace, and
Shelly moved her mouth down to flick her tongue against Sandra's pussy
lips, occasionally slipping it against her clit.  Sandra pulled
Shelly's body over her, so that Shelly's pussy was above her face. 
Sandra took the time to explore the younger pussy with her eyes.  It
was tight, pink, and had neatly trimmed hair that was intended to set
off, rather than hide, her cunt.  Sandra could wait no longer, and
slipped her tongue out, and ran it along the girl's pussy lips,
slipping between them to find her opening and slide in.
 
            Shelly let out a loud moan as Sandra's tongue slid up into
her pussy.  Her movement of the dildo faltered, but only for a few
moments.  As Sandra continued to slowly lick the girl's cunt, Shelly
fucked the dildo in and out of her even faster.  Shelly was amazed at
the talent of this woman, who already had her very near to coming.  She
was writhing on top of the woman, barely able to control her
movements.  In a last-ditch effort to bring the woman off with her,
Shelly reached down and turned the dildo's vibrator on full power.
 
            Sandra's pussy was electrified with the sensation.  A
powerful wave of pleasure splashed up her spine, and back down.  In a
reflex reaction, she pulled Shelly's cunt even further onto her face,
and her tongue lashed at the girl's clit.  Shelly was soon screaming
with her orgasm, and Sandra wasn't far behind her.  Both women thrashed
on the bed until their bodies passed through the ultimate in pleasure,
and they began to calm down.  As they caught their breath, Shelly
turned off the dildo, which had fallen from Sandra's pussy during the
throes of passion.  She turned herself around, so that she was now
facing Sandra for the first time.
 
            Sandra embraced the girl, and kissed her.  Their mouths
opened immediately, and Shelly could taste her juices on Sandra's
tongue as it slipped into Shelly's mouth, wrestling with her own
tongue.  They continued their kissing until they'd each caught their
breath, and they were now again slightly aroused.
 
            Sandra pulled back from the girl and said, "Let's take a
shower.  I think we both need one."
 
            Shelly agreed, and they used the shower next to Sandra's
bedroom.  They had barely gotten themselves wet, when Sandra had to
rush to the toilet.  After vomiting repeatedly, she wiped her mouth
with a rag, under Shelly's concerned gaze.  She needed the shower now
more than ever, and so returned to join her new friend under the spray.
 
            "Are you okay?  Maybe you should go to the doctor," Shelly
said with concern.
 
            "I already have," answered Sandra.  "It's just morning
sickness.  It'll pass."
 
            "Morning...  you're pregnant?  Congratulations!"  Sandra
just smiled in response.  "Boy, I'll bet your son was thrilled to find
out he was going to have a little brother or sis..."  Shelly paused as
she saw the look on Sandra's face.
 
            "Ron doesn't know yet... and it won't be his sibling."
 
            "What do you mean?  Okay, half-brother or half-sister, I
guess...  What?"  Shelly could see that Sandra wasn't sure she wanted
to say what came next.
 
            "It'll be Ron's son or daughter."
 
            "You're... sleeping with your own *son*?" she asked
incredulously.
 
            Sandra nodded.  "Ever since my husband left me...  I don't
really know how it all started, but Ron's the only one I've slept with
since my husband left.  Does that disgust you?"  Sandra figured she'd
just lost her newest friend.
 
Shelly considered for a moment.  Though what Sandra was talking about
was outside of societal norms, so was her lifestyle.  And, truth be
told, the idea didn't really bother her that much, she had just been
startled by Sandra's admission.  "Well... it's a little weird...  But,
I suppose, if you're happy...  I don't know.  I've never slept with a
guy, my brother was a jerk, so there was never that temptation... my
father was abusive, but not in that way...  I just..."
 
            "Shelly, are you a lesbian?"
 
            "Yeah.  I've had lots of women... not many as pretty as you
are, though.”
 
            Sandra blushed.  "Well, that's fine with me... Most of the
girls here are bisexual...  I know this will seem sick to you, but Ron
sleeps with most of the women here.  It's not rape or anything like
that.  All of us just seem to find him almost irresistible."
 
            "Probably has something to do with him being a psionic."
 
            "Could be.  I asked him to explain it all to me once, and
he did, but it never really made any sense.  I decided it was enough to
know that we love each other, and that we care for each other in every
way."
 
            "Will I be expected to sleep with him?"  She did not want
to be forced into that sort of thing.
 
            "Not if you don't want to, no.  He doesn't force anyone. 
Besides, I think he's going to be too busy to worry about sex, soon." 
In a playfully hurt voice, she continued, "What's the matter, don't you
find my son attractive?"
 
            Shelly blushed.  "Well, as guys go, yeah, he is... but... I
don't know... I've just never really been 'into' guys."
 
            Sandra embraced the girl beneath the hot water stream. 
"Then don't worry about it.  He won't pressure you for something you
don't want to give...  But I might ask for your talents from time to
time!"  She kissed Shelly again, and their tongues intertwined for
several moments before they broke the kiss.
 
            Shelly said, "Any time, anywhere!" and then laughed. 
Sandra joined in before she got a serious look on her face.
 
            "Shelly, I have to ask you for a favor."
 
            "Anything."
 
            "Don't let on to Ron about my being pregnant.  He has
enough to worry about now, what with the war, and already having
Linda's baby on his conscience."
 
            "That one's his, too?"
 
            "No woman who actually lives here sleeps with any man but
Ron.  Well, except Karen, who's become attached to Lars."
 
            "Ron puts up with that?"
 
            "He and Karen never slept together, as far as I know. 
Ron's not the competitive type.  I've talked with him about it: he's
happy that Karen finally found someone."
 
            "He seems to be a very special person."
 
            "He is.  But please, don't let him know about my baby.  It
was my idea, and I don't know if he might not be a little upset about
it."
 
            "I won't say a word.  Does anyone else know?"
 
            "All the girls do.  Nikki's furious that she's not pregnant
yet."
 
            "She *wants* to get pregnant by her own brother?"
 
            "She feels left out.  He's already given her older sister a
child, and now me.  I told her that her time would come."
 
            "You have a very unusual family, Sandra."
 
            "I know.  But we like it.  Now, we've still got about
fifteen minutes of hot water left, so we should wash up.  I really need
a shower, bad."
 
            "I'll wash your back if you wash mine," Shelly offered.
 
            "Okay, and I'll wash your *front* if you'll wash mine..." 
Sandra replied, and they both laughed.
 
 
 
            It took a full two weeks to get the United Nations Security
Council to assemble.  None of them could believe or digest the
information coming out of the United States these days.  The Russian
ambassador was openly hostile to the Americans, while the rest seemed
either cool, or almost completely disinterested.
 
            The Secretary-General got the meeting underway, and then
immediately gave the floor to the American ambassador, Leonard Green.
 
            "Gentlemen of the Security Council," he began, "I come
before you today with a problem.  The United States has suffered the
attack of a Russian fleet.  We know this without question.  We have
provided to each of you, in your folders, the visual proof of the
attack, along with the eyewitness testimony of several dozen sailors
from the fleet that was attacked.
 
            "Gentlemen, I would also like to point out that, in the
last two weeks, there have been two more attacks on American vessels
underway.  We have held this information from our citizens in order
that we not cause a panic.  However, it is at this time that we must
*insist* on answers from the Russian people as to what their motives
are behind such unprovoked attacks."  The US ambassador sat down, and
it was clear that he expected the Russian ambassador to respond now. 
The Russian did not disappoint him.
 
            "Gentlemen," the Russian ambassador said in heavily
accented English, "I can categorically deny that the Russian government
has any part whatsoever in the attacks upon American vessels.  Our
President has given no orders to our ships at sea to attack anyone.  We
have not mobilized any forces whatsoever in the past three months.  I
am grieved by the American ambassador's tone, and I wish you all to
know that our people want only peace."
 
            "Then why, Mister Ambassador," the American blurted, "Have
your ships attacked ours?  This information is not in question.  They
*were* Russian vessels."
 
            In response, the Russian said calmly, "I do not see the
facts as clearly as you do, Mister Ambassador.  As a matter of fact, I
call into question the validity of even the photographs in this
so-called report.  As to the 'eyewitness accounts', well, we know that
American servicemen will say what their government tells them to say. 
How can we be expected to believe anything that comes from a government
that believes in fairy tales?  Would you care to show me one of your
'supermen', Mr. Ambassador?"
 
            Only because he was a diplomat was Leonard Green able to
reign in his anger.  His voice was cold and calculated when he finally
responded.  "If necessary, I am sure that we can provide proof of the
existence of psionics.  However, I do not have one with me here today. 
I can assure you that the United States government has incontrovertible
proof of the existence of such people.  This is not, however, relevant
to the issue before this council-" He got no further before he was
interrupted- a first for him -by the Russian ambassador.
 
            "It is most certainly pertinent to this issue!  You accuse
our government of, at the very least, having no control over its
military.  You suggest that our soldiers, our planes, and our ships are
being controlled by people who are not elected by our country, and you
tell us that this information comes to you by way of these... these
'psionics'.  Further, you tell us that it is the psionics of our own
country that are wanting to start a war!  You do not feel it is enough
to accuse the Russian *government* of wrongdoing now?  You must accuse
our people directly?"
 
            "Mr. Ambassador, I will tell you again that the information
we have comes from reliable sources, and is being double- and
triple-checked even as we speak.  However, there has been no
information turned up that would contradict the original report.  We
have evidence of psionics in our country.  It is only reasonable to
assume that if we have some, everyone does.  While ours have proven to
be loyal to our nation, it is not necessarily the case that everyone
would be.  We do not blame your countrymen, Mr. Ambassador.  Only those
who are actually responsible."
 
            "But you have no proof that these people actually exist,
except for the word of people that would not be considered good
witnesses in a court of law!  Your whole argument is flawed!  I, for
one, do not need to listen to you insult my country.  I would ask that
you carry on with this charade, and get it over with."
 
            "Very well, Mr. Ambassador.  Mr. Secretary-General, the
United States asks for a full investigation into the behavior of the
Russian armed forces, specifically the Northern Fleet of their Navy. 
Furthermore, we request sanctions be placed against the Russian
government until they cooperate fully with such investigations."
 
            "Mr. Ambassador," intoned the Secretary-General, "Even
without a vote, I can tell that you do not have the support of enough
members of this body for such a thing.  Furthermore, I see no evidence
that would encourage me to push these members into voting in your
favor.  Perhaps the American government should look elsewhere to place
blame for the unfortunate incident in the Atlantic."
 
            "Unfortunate, Mr. Secretary-General?  I do not think
unfortunate is the word I would use to describe it.  *Unprovoked* is a
good word.  *Inhuman* is one I might use.  *BARBARIC* comes to mind,
but not 'unfortunate', sir.  I demand a vote of this body!"
 
            "It is your right to do so.  All in favor of the proposed
investigation and sanctions, signal through your voting system."  It
took only a few seconds before the tally came up 14-1, against.  "As I
said, Mr. Ambassador-" the Secretary-General stopped speaking, as the
Ambassador was already leaving the room.  "This meeting is adjourned
until 2pm this day."
 
 
 
            "In an unprecedented move, the United States government
unilaterally pulled out of the United Nations earlier this afternoon. 
Troops of the Army and the New York National Guard were assembled to
escort all UN ambassadors out of the country.  They each boarded an
airliner of their respective nation, and returned home.  The President
had these few words on the matter:"
 
            "In our nation's history, we have always chosen to stand
alone against a larger, more powerful enemy rather than to acquiesce to
the demands of an unfair overseer.  Once again, the people of America
are required to stand alone.  We will do this, but we will not tolerate
the presence of possibly hostile foreign nationals on our soil while we
do it.
 
            "Furthermore, I am announcing at this time that all foreign
visas are being cancelled.  If you are not a citizen of the United
States, you are being directed at this time to return to your country
of origin.  The United States is faced with the first war on its home
soil in more than a century.  We cannot risk that some people who are
here are not friendly to our way of life.  Resident visas are not being
cancelled: if you are well on your way to becoming an American citizen,
you will be allowed to stay.  However, all work and travel visas are
hereby revoked.
 
            "To the American people, I can only say this: the world has
decided that they don't want to get involved in our troubles.  All of
the work we have done to attempt to bring peace to our planet means
nothing to them when real trouble rises up.  But we will not retreat
from our position.  If an attack is coming, and it seems that it is,
then we will be ready to meet that attack, and crush it."
 
            The anchor continued, "In other news tonight-" Ron turned
the TV off in disgust, and tossed the remote on the table.  Shelly
Saunders, Kim and Jeff were watching with him.
 
            "So, we're all alone now, eh?" Shelly said.
 
            "We were alone before.  He just made it official," Ron
snarled.
 
            "You seem upset, sir.  What's wrong?" Kim inquired.
 
            "Would you stop calling me 'sir'?  I'm sixteen!  I'm not a
'sir' yet.  And what's wrong is that every possible mistake that our
illustrious President could make, he's *making*!"
 
            "Oh.  But s...  I mean, Ron, what should he do different?"
 
            "He should shut his big yap.  There is some information the
American people *do not need.*  This is one of those times that you
keep the cards close.  You don't send the army to remove a bunch of
diplomats.  You send paperwork to remove diplomats.  You don't hold a
press conference to announce it; you keep it under your hat as long as
possible.  When the press asks you why you did it, you tell them it was
for security reasons, and drop it.  *This*," Ron gestured to the TV,
"is going to make life hell for *everyone*."
 
            "Ron, I hate to be the one who has to stick up for the man,
but he's doing the best he can.  He was never a foreign policy genius,
after all," said Shelly.
 
            Ron turned on her, but took a deep breath before letting
out what he so wanted to say.  After all, it wasn't her fault her boss
was a jack-ass.  "Right.  Well, now we just have to worry about what's
going to happen next.  Jeff, what do we have, intelligence-wise?"
 
            "Not a goddamned thing, boss.  We don't have jack-shit on
what they're going to try next."
 
            "Well, get some people out there and find out.  I don't
care how.  We have to know where they're going to strike if we're going
to try to stop them."
 
            "Yessir!" he barked, and left the room in a trot.
 
            "Shelly, get with your people, and see if they have any
inkling of what's coming, and ask them if they've started a locator
project for their psionics in service yet."
 
            "Yes, sir!" she chimed, and off she went.
 
            "What do you want me to do?" Kim asked.
 
            "Make sure our troops are ready.  Trouble could be just
around the corner.  How's your training coming?"
 
            Her face fell as she spoke.  "Not as well as I would like. 
I am not living up to the standards of the PPA."
 
            Ron put his hands on her shoulders and said softly, "Hey! 
It may just take you a little longer to learn it.  That's okay.  Don't
give up on me now, I need you."  That brought her eyes up to meet his. 
"You're one of my best leaders.  Okay, maybe you aren't the strongest
in your unit.  That's not important.  You're a *leader*, and I need
leaders.  You are important to the team.  *I* need you at the head of
that group.  Okay?"
 
            Kim smiled wanly, but nodded her head in agreement.  "I'll
keep working on it, sirrr... Ron."
 
            "Good.  I've got a few things to take care of.  Keep a
happy thought."  Ron walked out of the room, leaving Kimberly to wonder
both about her doubts about her mission, and about the strange lack of
concentration she felt in Ron's presence.
 
 
 
            Ron made his way through the house over to the facility,
where the rooms had been rearranged, and much larger partitions had
been set up, so that the large number of people could be accommodated. 
The soldiers were also separated from the civilians, to keep any sort
of mischief to a minimum.  Ron stopped at the desk to ask Megan where
he could find the people he was looking for.  She directed him to a
room, and he walked in.
 
            The room was crowded with at least twenty people, living in
a small space.  Ron made his way over to where Tammy and her family
were sitting.  He waited until he had their attention.  "Tammy, get
your stuff together.  You're moving into the main house.  At the
request of your 'soul-sister'."
 
            It was a term that Nikki and Tammy had used back when they
were in elementary school.  It told Tammy that she was back in good
graces with her long-time friend.  She began to pack her stuff.  Her
father said, "What about us?"
 
            "I'm sorry, but there isn't any more room in the house. 
Tammy will be staying in Nikki's room, which is why I can allow it." 
Tammy continued to pack her things, ignorant of the conversation.
 
            As they stood up to leave, some people around her who were
aware of what was going on started to protest.  One man in particular,
who was a relative of one of Ron's protected people, complained
loudly.  "Why does she get special treatment?  What makes her so damned
special?  How dare you allow her to move into greater comfort while my
niece is packed in here like-"
 
            "Shut up," Ron said quietly.  The man didn't listen.
 
            "Don't tell me to shut up!  This is a free country!  I
demand to know why that girl will have more comfortable living quarters
than my niece!"
 
            Ron turned and faced the man.  In a voice that few had ever
heard Ron use, he responded, "*Because I want it that way.*"  Although
his voice was not loud, it silenced the entire room.  "*Now, I would
advise you to shut your mouth, sit down, and stay out of my face, or
I'll use you as a protective barrier when the Russians arrive.  I did
not have to provide protection for you.  I chose to do so because your
niece is a friend of mine.  Do not make me regret that decision.*"
 
            The man's face had turned deathly pale as Ron's fury had
washed over him.  The people in the room backed away, both from Ron,
and the man that had angered him.  They didn't want to be in the way
when the sparks started flying.  The man cringed backward as Ron moved
past him, toward the door.  Ron intended only to use his extension to
open the door, but he was so pissed off that the door went flying off
its hinges, impacting and denting the wall on the other side of the
hallway.  The room filled with gasps, seeing the awesome energy that
Ron was capable of.
 
            Out in the hallway, Ron leaned against the wall to let
himself calm down.  Tammy, who was only slightly more used to Ron's
power, and who had seen his temper before, kept her distance.  When he
opened his eyes and saw her, he smiled slightly.  "Sorry 'bout that. 
You know where to go, don't you?"
 
            "Yeah.  Ron... thanks for letting us stay."
 
            "Thank Nikki.  It was her decision."  He watched her walk
off down the hall, and then turned to the guards who had shown up,
having heard the commotion.  "Have somebody fix that door."
 
            "Yes, sir!" they responded in unison.
 
 
 
            His name was Daniel, and he was leading a small band of
psionics in the Chicago area.  They'd been overlooked by CAMP simply
because of their distance from New Mexico.  None of the other
organizations that had approached him had seemed stable enough to
provide a home.  Daniel and the few other psionics he'd found were
alone, and facing the worst danger of their young lives.
 
            They'd been hiding ever since the President's pronouncement
about their existence.  People he thought were friends had turned on
him almost immediately.  Daniel led his people into the worst parts of
Chicago.  These were places that nobody would want to look for them.
 
            Except for the Russians.
 
            It happened one morning: Carla woke him up with a panicky
whisper.  She'd been on guard duty, and felt the Russians' mental
energy sweep over her and lock on.  They were all quickly up and
running.  Having trained himself, it had never occurred to Daniel that
he might be able to fly.  Since he had been responsible for training
most of the others, they weren't up to it, either.  They ran down back
alleys and hid behind dumpsters, but they knew that eventually they
would have to fight.
 
            The Russians finally chased them out into the open, in
downtown Chicago.  *Too many people,* Daniel thought, but he couldn't
concern himself with their lives until he was certain he could save his
own.  Knowing that he had to stand and fight, He stopped in front of
what had once been the tallest building in the world.  The Sears tower
loomed behind him as he turned to fight the Russians, his friends
fanned out to cover a wide front.  Daniel had almost two dozen psionics
in his gang.
 
            But they were faced with more than fifty.  This was not the
old tactic of the Filitov Council.  This was a full-blown battle
force.  They had kept themselves on the ground because they had
discerned that none of these people had learned to fly, and they didn't
want to give them any ideas.  The Russians fanned out to cover Daniel's
group, and it was better than two on one odds.
 
            Daniel and his friends tensed, and the onslaught came.  At
first, it was just unfocused energy, thrown haphazardly at them. 
Daniel knew, and told his friends, that this was both to test their
strength, and to make them overconfident.  Soon, the attacks took
different forms.  Carla found a Volvo hurtling toward her, and was able
to duck out of the way as it soared past her head.  Sean, another
member of the group, was taken out by a lamp post impaled through his
head.  Daniel fought off the pickup truck aimed for him, and tossed it
back at his attackers, but to no avail.
 
            Back and forth the battle raged, but only for a few
moments.  The Russian leader took two of his best and departed,
unnoticed, from the battle scene.
 
            Daniel was nearly hit by a flying bench, but had managed to
deflect it at the last minute.  He tried to formulate his own attack,
but every time he tried to focus, another attack would come, and he
would be caught almost off guard.  That is why he didn't notice that
the Russian attackers had split themselves, and were now attacking from
both sides, rather than in a semicircle.  

            It wasn't until the ground began to tremble that Daniel
started to worry.  The shaking grew worse, but the Russians pressed
their attacks.  He wondered how they could stand up, the shaking was so
bad.  It was then that he realized that not a single Russian was
touching the ground.  *My God!  They can fly!*  This thought distracted
him from the attack that killed him, throwing him backwards into the
building, and crushing his skull.
 
            It would not have mattered in any case, for a few short
seconds later, the Sears Tower, tallest building in Chicago, toppled,
having been pushed over by the Russian leader and his helpers.  The
small band of American psionics had nowhere to run.  They were caught
beneath the falling weight of the building.  Even the strongest of
psionics would have had difficulty surviving such a force coming down
on top of them.  These poor souls never stood a chance.  Their screams
were drowned out by the roar of the falling building, which took out
several other buildings as it toppled into them, and knocked them over,
almost in a domino effect.  When all was said and done, six office
buildings were collapsed or unsafe, and eight more were damaged.  Along
with the twenty-two American psionics, the Russians had killed several
thousand people working in those office buildings.  The report ran on
the news that night.
 
 
 
            "Jesus *Fucking* Christ!" Ron screamed, having seen the
report on the news.  All of the leaders were there: Kim, Jeff, Lars,
Shelly.  They all witnessed the devastation.  None of them could find
words.  Ron quickly recovered, but his anger was evident.
 
            "Jeff, tell me you've got news."
 
            "Sir, we never saw this coming.  All the info we have says
they're planning to hit Philadelphia soon."
 
            "Very well.  Keep working on it.  Shelly, what have your
people got?"
 
            "Sir, they have absolutely no intel on any of this.  Their
psionic program is getting a slow start, as no one wants to admit to
having the Ability.  Our generals were wondering if you could spare
someone to go out and talk to the troops."
 
            "I'll do that myself in the next couple of days.  Kim, how
do *our* troops look?"
 
            "Most of them are ready, Ron.  The others should be in a
few days... well, there are a few of us who are pretty shaky..."  Ron
knew she meant *she* was still unsure.
 
            "You'll do fine, Kim.  Don't worry."  Worrying over her
calmed his anger somewhat, though.  "Okay, guys.  Now we've seen what
they're capable of.  We know they're not going to give a crap about the
normal people.  I don't even want to think about how many people died
in today's little mishap, but the numbers are only going to get worse. 
Jeff, I want you to assign a few of your people to watch CNN and the
news every day.  From now on, *we* don't watch it.  We need to know
what the enemy is up to, but seeing it live and in color is only going
to hurt morale.  I want to know *when* they're hitting Philadelphia,
because we're going to be there."
 
            "Yes, sir!" all four said at once.
 
            "Dismissed," Ron concluded.
 
 
 
            Kimberly had checked on the troops, and they were doing
fine.  It was her own skills that had her worried.  She was in the
"family wing" of the house, looking for Lars.  She felt she could talk
to him about her problems: she knew and trusted his reactions.  As she
approached Lars' door, however, it was obvious that he was "otherwise
engaged" with Karen.  In frustration, she continued down the hallway,
past Nikki's room, where further sounds of pleasure could be heard. 
She stopped a moment, wondering if Nikki and Ron... but no, her brief
scan showed that it was her friend, Tammy, that Nikki was making love
to.  *So, some of the girls here are bisexual.*  Kim so wanted to join
them, to feel that release that she needed from the strain, but didn't
dare intrude on them.  It would have been tactless to just knock in the
middle of such an act, and just barging in was not Kim's style.  She
continued down the hallway.
 
 
 
            Ron, meanwhile, was involved in something he'd rather not
be doing, but felt was necessary.  He was just now flying over the
coast of England, having actually flown himself over the Atlantic.  He
had worried about how tired it might make him, but had managed it
rather well.  It had taken several hours, but he figured that he could
use the workout, in preparation for the war that was coming.  Having
made it into England, he landed in a small village outside of London,
to rest at a quiet inn for the night.  He would tackle his major task
the next day.
 
 
 
            Kim's wandering finally brought her in front of Linda's
room, where the door was open.  She could see that Linda was seated on
a chaise lounge, reading a novel.  Kimberly made to leave without
interrupting, but Linda looked up at that moment.
 
            "Hi, Kim!  What's up?"
 
            "Hello, Linda.  I needed to talk to Lars, but he's... busy."
 
            Linda got a funny smirk on her face.  "I'll bet.  Those two
are like rabbits lately.  Is there anything I can help you with?"
 
            Kimberly vacillated between revealing her troubles to this
woman, or just leaving, but decided that she had to tell someone.  She
stepped in and closed the door.  "If I tell you some things, will you
promise to keep them from Ron?"
 
            Linda straightened immediately.  "Well, that depends on
whether they could hurt him or not.  I am obligated to Ron."
 
            "I understand.  These things are personal things, about
myself."
 
            "Oh.  Well, those things, sure, I can keep a secret."  She
almost giggled, but the look on the girl's face was far too serious for
that.  "Have a seat and tell me what's on your mind."
 
            "I am extremely nervous about the upcoming war.  I know
that the people I command are ready, but I worry that I am not.  I do
not have the skills that the others possess.  I am still only an Adept
of the Third Order.  Lars, and most of my men, are Second Order Adepts."
 
            "I've never been able to understand the CAMP system, let
alone your system, of classifying people," Linda responded, "But I
don't think it's as important as you're making it out to be.  Do your
men trust you?"
 
            "Yes, but I worry that they are putting too much faith in
me.  I don't want to let him down.  I mean, I don't want to let *them*
down."
 
            The light was beginning to dawn in Linda's mind, but she
couldn't come out and say it to this girl.  Instead, she said, "Ron has
not removed you from command, has he?"
 
            "No!  And he would never do that.  He believes in me, for
some reason."
 
            "Ron must have a good reason.  He doesn't put faith in
people very easily."
 
            "I think he has misplaced it in this case."  The girl was
very near tears.
 
            "I've never seen Ron do that yet."  Linda moved to sit
beside the girl on the bed.  "Look, I've been in this household for a
while.  I know Ron, and I know the rest of the family.  He trusts you. 
They trust you.  *I * trust you.  Everyone's afraid of war, Kim."
 
            "Not Ron!  He fears nothing!"  Her blind defense of him was
almost an admission.
 
            "Honey, Ron is more scared than you'd care to know.  Do you
think he wants to lead you into battle?  He's scared out of his mind
that he's going to let *you* down."
 
            "That can't be.  He is so strong, so confident..."
 
            "He puts on a good show.  Those of us who know him can see
right through it.  Did you hear about the little incident the other day
in the facility?"      

            "When he moved Tammy into the house?  Yes, why?"
 
            "When Ron loses his cool, you know he's scared.  Ron is a
very strong psionic.  Of course, when I came here, I didn't even know
what a psionic was.  But I've seen some of what he can do.  Frankly, I
worry for him.  But I figure, that's my job, as one of his girlfriends:
to worry about him."  Linda was leading Kim down a road that she seemed
to be fighting.
 
            "But, how do I make sure that..."
 
            "That you don't disappoint him?  You won't.  If you give it
everything you've got, there is *no way* you can disappoint him."
 
            "But what if I fail?"
 
            "It won't matter to him.  Oh, yeah, in the overall picture,
he'll be pissed, but not at you.  He'll be angry at himself for asking
too much of you."
 
            "What if I get him killed?"
 
            The thought stopped her cold.  *Ron really could die in
this war.*  Her voice was quavering as she continued, "Then you can
mourn him with the rest of us."
 
            "You would accept me here?  Even if that were to happen?"
 
            "All of Ron's girls will stick together for as long as we
live."
 
            "But I am not one of his girls."
 
            "Maybe you need to look at yourself a little harder, Kim."
 
            Kim stared at her, not knowing what she was talking about. 
She delved deep into her psyche, exploring her emotions. What she found
there-
 
            She bolted up off the bed to stand away from Linda, as if
that would protect her from her own emotions.  "No!  I cannot!"
 
            Linda stood up slowly.  "You can protest it all you like,
Kim.  Do you think I wanted to fall in love with one of my students?"
 
            "But you don't understand!  I'm...  I'm not...  I cannot be
falling in love with *him*."
 
            "Why not?" Linda replied simply.
 
            "Because...  you will hate me if I tell you."
 
            "I really doubt that.  Remember, we're all friends here. 
Friends accept things about each other.  Whatever it is, it can't be
*that* bad."
 
            "I have never loved a man.  I am a lesbian," Kim blurted. 
She did not understand why Linda's face broke into a big grin before
she laughed, not harshly, but warmly.
 
            "Kimberly," Linda chided, "Just because you've never loved
any *other* man, doesn't mean you can't love *this* one.  Have you had
relationships with very many women?"
 
            "Only two," she answered.
 
            "So, you haven't exactly been playing around very much,
have you?"
 
            "No, I cannot do that...  I do not have the skills to
manipulate people in that manner, and..."
 
            "That's not what I meant, but my point is this: you are
very picky about whom you love.  You just haven't encountered a man
that you loved before."
 
            "But-"
 
            "No 'buts' about it.  You can fight it all you want, but
you will eventually have to admit to yourself that you are in love with
Ron.  Join the club, we're a friendly bunch."
 
            Kim looked very uncertain of herself.  She was struggling
with the concept that she might actually be in love with a man.  *Well,
a boy... no, he is more a man than anyone I have ever met.*
 
            Linda could see the indecision there, and she knew it would
be best to take the girl's mind off it, so that she could come back to
it later.  "Kim?"
 
            "Hmmm?" she replied, still a little lost in thought.
 
            "Have you... made arrangements with anyone since you came
here?"
 
            Kim finally focused on what Linda was saying. 
"Arrangements for what?"
 
            "I thought not," Linda concluded.  "All this stress, and no
relief.  Come over here."
 
            Linda led Kim to the bed and sat her down on it.  Linda sat
behind her and began to massage her shoulders, working out the tension
she felt in the muscles.  Kim closed her eyes and sighed.  One of the
other girls in the ShadowDragon used to do this for her, but since they
had departed that guild, no one else had offered.  Kim sank into the
wonderful relaxation that Linda was bringing to her body.  She leaned
back into Linda, feeling Linda's body against her own, relishing the
sensations.
 
            Linda continued her movements until she felt that Kim had
relaxed enough, and was used to Linda's touch.  Truth be told, it had
been a few days for Linda, and she was in need of a little 'tension
release" herself.  She widened the movement of her hands, caressing
Kim's neck, her upper arms, the portion of her back that she could
reach.  Slowly, Linda's hands moved around to cup Kim's breasts.  Kim
sighed, and pressed her tits into Linda's soft hands.
 
            Linda caressed Kim's tits, and began to kiss her neck.  As
she moved up toward Kim's ear, Kim turned her head, and their lips made
electric contact.  The softness of each woman's lips pressed
passionately against the other's, though their touch was feathery. 
Kim's tongue pressed gingerly against her partner's upper lip, and
Linda's mouth opened to admit the slippery visitor.  Kim slid her
tongue over Linda's tongue, and then moved it to caress the entire
inside of her mouth, before inviting Linda to return the favor, which
she did enthusiastically, as her hands continued to massage Kim's
breasts.  Linda had managed to open the buttons on Kim's blouse by now,
and was fondling Kim's tits through only her bra.
 
            It was more than Kim could stand, and she finally broke
their kiss, turning around to face Linda on the bed, and pushing her
onto her back.  Kim stroked Linda's face softly, passing her fingers
across Linda's lips, which Linda kissed gently.  Then Kim began to run
her hands over Linda's clothed body, feeling her arms, her sides, her
legs.  Having fully roamed the terrain, Kim settled, for now, on
Linda's breasts, stroking them smoothly through the fabric of her
T-shirt.  It took Kim only a second to realize that Linda was not
wearing a bra, and this realization drove Kim crazy with the need to
see those tits.  She pulled Linda's shirt out of her pants, and pushed
it up past those beautiful mounds of flesh.  Kim inhaled sharply as she
saw the wonderful body before her.  She softly tweaked a nipple, and
Linda shivered in pleasure.  Kim took the time to remove her own
blouse, then reached around to unhook her bra, letting it fall to the
floor.  She then returned to caressing Linda's breasts, lavishing much
attention on them.  Linda returned the favor, as Kim straddled her
abdomen so that they could reach each other more easily.
 
            Their heat began to rise as Kimberly leaned down and once
again kissed Linda, their tongues mingling.  Kim slid down Linda's
body, moving so that her thigh pressed into Linda's crotch.  Linda
moaned into Kim's mouth, and wrapped her arms around Kim, pulling her
down so that their breasts were mashed together, and their nipples
moved against each other's flesh as their bodies shifted.
 
            Linda's hands soon found their way to Kim's skirt
fasteners, undoing them quickly, and pushing the skirt down Kim's hips,
so that Linda could feel that firm ass without the fabric in the way. 
Kim was wearing bikini style panties, and Linda enjoyed the feel of
Kim's supple ass cheeks.
 
            Kim was not passive, however.  She had returned her
attention to Linda's tits, and was caressing them more firmly now. 
Their lips remained locked as they moved together, exciting each other
with their hands and mouths.  One of Kim's hands slipped down to undo
the buttons on Linda's jeans, completing the task with remarkable ease,
thanks to some help from her mental extension.  Her hand then eased its
way into Linda's pants, working its way down to her crotch.  The heat
there was intense, and Linda's panties were drenched in her juices. 
Kim pressed the fabric up into Linda's cunt, and received a moan in
return.
 
            It was at this point that neither of them could take it
anymore, and separated to remove the remainder of their clothes as
quickly as possible.  Having stripped completely, they returned to
their embrace.  Kim's hand quickly slipped down to Linda's pussy, one
finger slipping easily past her pussy lips.  Linda moaned as Kim
finger-fucked her, and moved her mouth onto one of Linda's nipples,
flicking her tongue rapidly across it, sending quivers of pleasure
through Linda's whole body.  Linda, meanwhile, reached out and again
began to caress Kim's breasts, lightly rolling and pinching the nipples
as she kneaded the titflesh gently.  Soon, both women were moaning in
the sensations.
 
            Kim moved herself down Linda's body, and began to flick her
tongue at Linda's clit while continuing the movement of her finger
inside of Linda's cunt.  She added a second finger as she lapped at the
juices coming from Linda's pussy.
 
            Linda pulled Kim fully on top of her, and wasted no time in
pulling that beautiful cunt down onto her own face.  Linda ran her
tongue along Kim's pussy lips, stopping just short of her clit.  She
repeated this motion, faster and faster, hearing Kim's moans become
louder and longer as she did it.  Finally, Linda ran the full length of
her tongue across Kim's clitoris.  Kim moaned loudly, and had a short,
but powerful, orgasm.  Linda lapped up the juices as Kim returned her
attention to Linda's body, now intent on returning the favor.
 
            Kim removed her fingers from Linda's pussy, and replaced
them with her tongue, shoving it as far as she could into Linda's love
hole.  She placed her middle finger against Linda's asshole and gently
pressed in.  As Linda moaned with the feeling of it, Kim's finger
slipped in to the second knuckle.  Soon, Kim's tongue and finger were
working in concert to bring Linda to her peak.
 
            Linda could take only so much of this kind of pleasurable
torture before her body exploded in orgasm.  She did the best she could
to continue lapping at Kim's pussy through her passions, and her
movements only added to Kim's excitement.  Kim came from the sensations
on her clit, and the sheer pleasure of the moment.
 
            As they finally settled down from their activities, Kim
moved up to face Linda, and they kissed warmly, letting them each taste
their own juices in the other's mouth.  They embraced and lay back on
the bed for a long while before speaking.  It was Kim who broke the
silence.
 
            "Linda, you won't tell Ron about what we discussed, will
you?"
 
            "I said I wouldn't.  This is something you're going to have
to tell him yourself."
 
            "What if I can't?"
 
            "You'll be able to when you're ready.  Don't worry about
it.  Until then, when the pressure starts to get to you, feel free to
come see me, or any of the other girls here.  We'll be happy to provide
some stress relief."  Both girls smiled at that, and they kissed once
more, happy to enjoy the peaceful moment.  They knew there would not be
many more such moments in the near future.
 
 
 
            Ron made his way to the palace the next morning.  Standing
in front of Buckingham Palace, he realized how huge the place truly
was.  He walked right past the guards, who never saw him.  Neither did
the hidden security cameras.  He made his way into the castle, picking
locks where necessary, and remaining invisible until he had reached the
room where the king was presently having breakfast.
 
            Ron made himself visible, and was immediately accosted by
some sort of page or whatever they call them.
 
            "What are you doing here?  How did you get in here?"
 
            Ron simply said, with a little added mental force, "Take me
to see the King."
 
            "Yes, sir.  This way, sir."  The boy led him into the
King's dining room, and quickly departed.  There was a guard in here,
of course, but anyone who had made it this far without setting off an
alarm, the guard reasoned, was not an immediate threat.  It was lucky
for him that he felt that way.  The King, however, was not in the
kindest of moods, and did not look favorably upon having his breakfast
interrupted.
 
            "Who the devil are you?" he demanded.
 
            "Your Highnesses," he included the Queen in his greeting,
"My name is Ronald Chaffey.  I am the commanding officer of the
Provisional Psionic Army of the United States of America."
 
            "Oh, right," the King said sarcastically, "Sorry I didn't
recognize you.  I suppose you're come to tell me that all the bloody
rubbish coming out of the States is the truth, are you?"
 
            "Tell you?  No, Your Majesty, I don't think that would be
sufficient.  So, why don't you ask your guard where his sidearm is?"
 
            "What?"  The King turned immediately to the guard, who
reached for his holster, only to find the gun missing.  The guard
looked back at the King in incredulity, until Ron answered their
question for them.  He set the gun on the table.
 
            "The gun, Your Majesty, is here.  I removed it without him
even knowing it. Furthermore, I removed it from over thirty feet away. 
Do you need more proof?"
 
            "An interesting magic trick.  It proves nothing."
 
            "Fine.  What would you have me do to prove to you that I am
what we claim to be?"
 
            "Give me the proof that your government claims to have."
 
            "Very well."  Ron focused his energy, and the rather large
dining table floated swiftly off the floor and around the room.
 
            "That's bloody brilliant!" the Queen interjected.
 
            "Yes, quite so.  I can see why your President chose to
believe you.  Very well, I think you have made your point.  Can we have
our breakfast back now?"
 
            Ron brought the table back to exactly its original
location, without spilling a drop of the Queen's orange juice.  "Your
Highnesses, I didn't come here to do parlor tricks.  I came here to ask
for your help.  The war that has just started is going to affect the
entire world, and we were hoping that Great Britain would be on our
side."
 
            The King considered for only seconds before replying,
"First off, this would more properly be a matter for the Prime
Minister.  However, since you have brought it to me, let me tell you
that the British people have had enough of wars, and we are not likely
to get involved in this one, if there is, in fact, a war coming."
 
            "The war is already here, Your Majesty.  And it is on your
soil.  You can fight with us, against us, or on your own side, but you
will have to be involved in the war, for it is already here."
 
            "Rubbish!"
 
            "I can show you, if you like."
 
            "I don't have time for any more of your parlor games.  I
have given you your answer, now leave me be!"  It was at this point
that the King's children entered the room.  Both of them, a boy and a
girl, were in their teens.  The boy, who was seventeen, was slightly
shorter than Ron, but of a more muscular build, with brown hair and
green eyes.  The girl, who had been the sweetheart of the world since
her birth, was fifteen, had strawberry blonde hair, like her mother,
and blue eyes, with the kind of body that must have made English teens
drool.  She was the one who spoke.
 
            "Father, who is this?"
 
            "He was just leaving Melissa."
 
            "I'm not leaving until you hear me out, sire," Ron
responded.  The son, Mark, found this outrageous, and approached Ron
ominously.
 
            "My father said you're leaving, boy, so you are- Whoa!" 
The boy found himself flung to the ceiling, some twenty feet overhead. 
The King and Queen both jumped to their feet, while the girl just
stared at Ron in awe.
 
            "I am not going away until I am heard out.  *Is that
understood?*"  *That voice* had returned, and the King knew menace when
he heard it.
 
            "Very well, just put our son down.  Look, you can't come in
here and threaten us in this manner."
 
            "I have threatened no one.  If I wanted to hurt any of you,
you couldn't stop me.  All I want is a half hour of your time."
 
            "I do not have a half hour to give.  *Someone* in this
world has to host the United Nations from now on-"
 
            "You might as well forget about the UN, sire.  After this
war, I doubt it will be a functioning body."
 
            "Bloody rubbish!  The UN will carry on as before.  We will
move it to Geneva, I'm sure, but we will continue to do business.  I do
not have time for your games."
 
            "You will not come with me to witness proof of your own
country's vulnerability?"
 
            "I have no interest in any display or performance you have
to show me."
 
            Ron was very quickly losing his temper when the girl spoke
up.  "Father, permit me to go and see his proof.  I have nothing to do
today.  I can come back and tell you what I have seen."
 
            The Queen did not like that idea at all.  "Melissa, we have
no idea who this person is.  I cannot in good conscience let you go off
with him unescorted!"
 
            "Oh, Mother, really!" the girl said in the cutest tone. 
"If he wanted to kidnap me, he'd have done it already!"
 
            Ron spoke up at this point.  "Your Majesty," he said,
speaking to the Queen, "You may accompany us, or send a guard, if this
will make you more at ease."
 
            "Yes, Anne," the King replied, "You and Melissa go and see
what this fellow has to show us."
 
            "Very well, Richard," the Queen sighed.  "Come, let us see
what we shall see."
 
 
 
            It had been a vigorous flight through the countryside.  Ron
had insisted that it was safer for the two of them if he transported
them psionically, rather than using traditional means.  While the Queen
looked a little green, Melissa was having a blast.
 
            They arrived at a small village in the northern part of
England in less than five minutes.  Melissa was trying to calculate the
speed at which they had flown, when her attention was drawn to the
village below.
 
            "It's been destroyed!" she cried.
 
            "My heavens!" the Queen exclaimed.  "What has happened
here?"
 
            Ron set them down just outside the village.  People were
scrambling everywhere, trying to repair the damage and tend to the
wounded.  He approached someone who looked like he was in charge. 
"Sir, can you tell me what happened here?"
 
            "Another bloody foreigner?  I'll tell you what happened
here.  Some bleeding foreigners came down out of the sky, chased some
of our friends into the forest, and in the meanwhile, nearly destroyed
our whole village.  We're very nearly put back to the Dark Ages here."
 
            "When you say 'came down out of the sky', you mean they had
helicopters?" the Queen asked.
 
            The man turned to her as if to snap back at her, but then
recognized who she was.  He immediately bowed to her.  "Pardon me, Your
Majesty!  I did not recognize you at first.  No, ma'am, they didn't
have helicopters or any other such contraption.  These people could
fly!  I tell you, I know it sounds completely impossible-"
 
            "Not after the ride we just took," interjected Melissa.
 
            "Quiet, child!" snapped the Queen.
 
            Just then, Ron felt a ripple in his senses.  He saw a small
group of people straggle out of the forest, and walk up to the man they
had been talking to.  Ron spoke before they had a chance.
 
            "You are psionics?"
 
            The leader of the group, though weary and battle-worn,
turned to him and nodded.  "And who are you, if I might ask?"
 
            "Ron Chaffey, commanding officer-"
 
            The leader interrupted, "*You're* Ron Chaffey?"  He turned
to his friends and said, "This is the bloke I was telling you about!" 
Turning back to Ron, he said, "We bloody well could have used your help
last night."
 
            "What happened?" the Queen asked.
 
            The man recognized the Queen, but was much too tired to
bow.  He nodded in her direction.  "Ma'am, we were attacked by people
who don't speak English.  They tore through the village looking for us,
and we made off into the forest, but they apparently took out most of
the village as they were following us into the trees."
 
            "If you're a psionic, why didn't you come tell my father?"
 
            "And be in the same bloody mess as the Americans?  Not a
chance!"  Turning to Ron, he said, "What bloody fool told him about us,
anyway?"
 
            Ron bowed his head sheepishly.  "I did.  It was a necessary
evil if we were to save civilian lives.  Unfortunately, it has made
life rather hard on the PPA at the moment.  How many are in your band?"
 
            "Sixty.  We lost fourteen last night.  The rest are hiding
in the forest still.  We came back to see if it was safe to return yet."
 
            "It's not safe anywhere for us anymore, my friend."
 
            "I bloody well hear that!"
 
            The Queen was appalled that one of her subjects felt too
frightened to come and talk to her husband.  "You should have trusted
us with this information.  We would have protected you."
 
            "Beggin' your pardon, Your Highness, but with what?  You
don't have a weapon in the armory that can stand up to these people." 
The man was much too weary to be worried about politeness.
 
            "What's your name?" Ron asked.
 
            "Thomas Warfield," the man answered.  "My friends call me
Tom."
 
            "Okay, Tom.  Get your people together, and bring them back
here.  I will have the PPA flight over some medical supplies, and a
training team.  Do you guys have any kind of training organization?"
 
            "You mean like that CAMP place I heard about once?  No.  We
learn here through trial and error."
 
            "Okay, I'm going to send over a couple of our trainers. 
Obviously, you aren't safe just because you wanted to stay out of it. 
Hell, *I* wanted to stay out of it!  We'll get you trained up.  The
rest..."  He paused, and looked directly at the Queen, "Is out of my
hands."
 
 
 
            Ron returned home just as a large group of psionics was
departing, flying east to head for England.  Ron was greeted with a
warm hug and kiss by Nikki, by a hug from Linda, and a bow from Kim. 
They all followed him into the study, to hear his news.  Jeff, Lars,
and Shelly were there waiting for him.
 
            "Okay," he opened, "We have Great Britain on our side. 
They said they would speak to Ireland on our behalf, but the rest of
Europe isn't real happy with them at the moment, so we're on our own as
far as that's concerned.  As soon as our people get the British troops
fully trained, they'll be sending the best of them back here.  From the
reports we're getting, the US is the hardest hit location, so we're
going to amass most of the psionics here.  Well, not *here*, but in
this country."  He grinned at his feeble attempt at humor.
 
            "Lars, what's the status on our battle plans?"
 
            "We are ready for Philadelphia, Ron."
 
            "Good.  Shelly, what about the military?"
 
            "They've signed off on your plan.  They will be standing by
to assist."
 
            "Good.  Jeff, what's intel saying?"
 
            "They say the attack will come within the next four days."
 
            "All right then, we're going to move our headquarters up
that way in a day or two."  He hesitated to ask his next question, not
because he feared the answer, but because of the pressure it put on the
answerer.  "Kimberly," he said softly, "What's the status of our
troops?"
 
            Kimberly straightened herself to her full height.  With
only a slight waver in her voice, she said, "We are *all* ready, Ron." 
Ron gave her a smile of encouragement and support, and she felt her
insides warm from seeing it.  *It's just anticipation,* she told
herself about the feeling.  *It will go away when the fighting starts.*
 
            "Okay, everyone.  We know the Russians are hitting hard,
and they're not just hitting the US.  Britain has had attacks, we know
about other attacks in France, Germany, South Africa, Egypt, Australia,
Brazil, and some other places."
 
            "Anything in the Orient, Ron?" Lars asked.
 
            "There's something weird over there.  We know the Russian
people hate the Japanese as much as they hate us, but for some reason,
they are steering clear of Japan.  They've hit China, we know that.  We
don't know anything for sure about the other places, but we are getting
reports from Japan, bypassing the news services and government, that
say there have been no attacks."
 
            "Why do you think that is?" Jeff asked.
 
            "I don't know.  Shelly, does the military know anything
about this?"
 
            "What we've heard, Ron, is that your information is
correct.  Other than that, we do not know anything at all.  We don't
know what the Japanese may have that worries the Russians so much that
they refuse to go there."
 
            "Hmm.  Something tells me that won't last forever.  These
people want the world, and Japan is going to have to fall sooner or
later."
 
            "True enough," she replied.
 
            "Well, we can't worry about that now.  Our immediate
concern is Philadelphia. Let's see if we can make a coordinated strike,
and hit them hard.  We leave out of here at 3pm tomorrow.  Get
everything ready.  This is where the war starts for us."
 
            "Yes sir!" they chimed.  The "civilians" in the room just
looked at each other with worry.
 
            "And God help us," Ron muttered to himself, just loud
enough that Kimberly heard him.
 
            *He *is* scared,* she thought to herself.  *I have been
selfish to lean so much on him, but I cannot help myself.*
 
            Ron saw the look pass over her face, but it was quickly
gone.  *I wonder what that was about?  Oh well, it'll keep.  Tomorrow
is the first day of World War Three.  I wonder if we'll win?*
 
 
 
            Ron had not yet learned the first lesson of World Wars: no
one wins.  You only survive.
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
