 
                  Chapter 2: Implementation of a Plan
 
A Note About Terrorism
 
 
 
            Given the nature of the next chapter, and what has happened
in our real lives, I felt it was necessary to say a few words right
here.
 
 
 
            This next chapter, indeed the entire remainder of the book,
was written prior to September 11, 2001.  The destruction of the World
Trade Center twin towers was a shock and an upset to all of us.  We all
agree that it was a great tragedy that thousands of innocent people
died for the political cause of some madman.
 
 
 
            The following chapter, which talks about the Battle for New
York City, mentions the World Trade Center plaza, and these two
buildings in particular.  After the events of 9/11, I had to sit down
and take a long look at my options for this part of the story.
 
 
 
            First, I could have  rewritten the entire thing, to leave
the World Trade Center out of it, replacing it with some other
landmark.  This would have been only mildly difficult, but didn’t feel
like the right step to take.
 
 
 
            Next, I considered rewriting it in a minor way to simply
say that the World Trade Center towers had been reconstructed.  (It is
my personal opinion that this is what we should do: erect the buildings
*exactly* as they were, to let the bastard who did this know he can’t
win.)  I toyed with this idea for a while, but I wasn’t entirely happy
with this idea, either.
 
 
 
            Finally, I decided that my best course of action was merely
to leave the story alone.  It is obvious that *CAMP: Ron’s Journey*
doesn’t take place in our universe, though some places and people have
been borrowed.  In the CAMP universe, thousands have not been killed by
a madman flying airplanes into buildings.  It is my opinion that doing
it this way, to ignore the event, is to show the greatest amount of
contempt for the cocksucker who concocted the plan to disrupt our great
nation.  (Please excuse me, if you aren’t from the United States, but
we have all rediscovered our national pride through this atrocity, and
I’m not about to let go of it anytime soon.)
 
 
 
            So, if you have friends or family who perished in this
horrible tragedy, please know that I’m not insensitive to the issue. 
On the contrary, my heart goes out to each and every one of you, and I
stand with the rest to honor the sacrifice of the civilians, the
federal employees, the police and the firefighters who perished on that
fateful day.
 
 
 
            As for Mr. Bin Laden, I can only say that I hope he has his
life insurance paid up, because we’re coming for him, and it’s not
going to be pleasant when, *not* if, we find him.  That little *pig
fucker* is going to wish he’d never heard of the United States.
 
 
 
            I hope you can enjoy the next chapter.
 
 
 
                                                                        
                        Net Wolf
 

 
 
Chapter 33
 
Implementation of a Plan
 
 
 
            A new training regimen was established for the troops as
they re-established their headquarters.  The Chaffey house was being
rebuilt by the same contractor as the other buildings.  He was going to
be phenomenally rich, if he survived the war.
 
            Life settled into a rather boring routine for those who
weren’t soldiers.  The war had destroyed much of the infrastructure of
the country, and so cable television had ceased to exist, as had most
of the local stations.  Radio hadn’t fared a whole lot better, and of
course, the local library was in ruins.  The people in Ron’s shelter
had resorted to sharing what books they had brought with them, but even
that had ceased to be helpful after a while.
 
            The Queen had only been in the shelter for two weeks now,
and she was already bored to the bone.  She had attempted to fit in
with the group here, but every conversation seemed a little forced, as
they knew who she was.  *As if that matters now,* she thought.
 
            She did know one way of relieving her frustrations, but she
honestly did not know if she was allowed.  She went searching for
someone to ask.
 
 
 
            Nikki and Kim were sitting in the cafeteria, having lunch. 
The conversation was over the cuteness of the most recent Chaffey,
Brian Michael, born just two days before.  They both agreed that he
looked a lot like his father.
 
            The Queen approached tentatively, not wanting to interrupt
them.  But Nikki saw her, and gave her a smile and a warm greeting.
 
            “I have a question to ask, but I’m not sure of whom I
should be asking it,” Melissa started.  “Is there a… a female in
charge?”
 
            Without thought, Nikki and Kim simultaneously pointed at
each other and said in unison, “She is.”  Then they looked at each
other and burst out laughing.
 
            When they calmed down, Nikki took pity on the Queen, and
explained.  “Ron did appoint a head of household, but Kumiko died
almost a year ago, before the war started.  Ron hasn’t given anyone
else the job since.  It hasn’t really been necessary lately.”
 
            “What did you want to ask the headmistress, anyway?”
Kimberly wanted to know.
 
            Melissa sat down and lowered her voice.  “You both know, I
assume, about Ron and I.”  After receiving nods, she went on.  “Well, I
wanted to know what the rules were here.  I don’t want to offend anyone
by…”  She stopped, because it was clear the two were having trouble
controlling their laughter again.
 
            “Your Majesty, Ron decides who to ‘keep company with’ for
himself.  We don’t get involved,” Nikki explained.  “But, in your case,
I want to say that, as far as I’m concerned, you are more than welcome
to share.”  She gave her a big smile.
 
            Melissa sighed with some relief.  “Thank you, Nikki.  I
appreciate your support.  I don’t suppose you might know where I can
find him?”  Ron hadn’t been spotted in the public areas for days.
 
            “He’s in his room,” Kim answered.  “Working.  Go on, you
might be a good distraction for him.  He works too hard.”
 
            “Thank you.”
 
 
 
            Ron was, in fact, working very hard.  He had taken half a
day off when his mother had been in labor with Brian, but that only
meant that he was half a day behind his own set schedule.  He was
pushing himself to make up for that.
 
            The sound at the door caught his attention.  He looked up
to see Melissa, dressed in an ankle-length dress of royal blue and
white.  She had foregone the crown, but it was hardly necessary to tell
who and what she was.
 
            “Hi, Princess…er… Mel… um… Aw, shit.”  Ron lowered his eyes
in embarrassment.  

            Melissa laughed lightly.  “Ron, you may continue to call me
‘Princess’ if it makes you more comfortable.  I’m hardly the Queen
here.”
 
            Ron rose from his desk and moved across the room to her. 
His hands rested on her arms, sending warm tingles throughout her
body.  “Thank you.  Sometimes it gets hard to remember what everyone
prefers being called, and when someone changes in the middle of all
this… well, I can hardly keep up.”
 
            “Yes.  The girls said you were a bit stressed.”
 
            “Ah-ha.  Now I see your motive for visiting me!  They
believe I need some tension relief!”  He smiled at her.  “Strange that
they would send someone else to do it, though…”  he winked.
 
            “Actually, I come of my own accord.  I merely asked them if
I was allowed, first.”
 
            Ron had a good chuckle at that.  “May I assume that they
had no problems with it?”
 
            “You may.  Now, why are we doing all this talking when we
could be doing something more fun?”
 
            In response, Ron leaned down and kissed her full on the
lips.  She allowed her body to be drawn into his, welcoming the feeling
of a strong man embracing her.  Their lips pressed strongly to each
other as Ron’s hands caressed her back through the fabric of the dress.
 
            Ron broke the embrace and stepped back slightly from her. 
He looked her up and down, taking in her beauty, though her body was
hidden by the thick, formal dress.
 
            “Who dresses you?” he asked himself quietly.  She heard
him, and smiled, but did not answer.  He moved around her slowly,
allowing his right hand to maintain contact with her waist at all
times.  Once he was behind her, he was at least gratified to see that
the dress had a zipper, rather than forty buttons.
 
            He grasped the zipper and slowly, tantalizingly, eased it
down.  He paused frequently to expose the flesh beneath the dress.  He
undid her bra when he reached it, and continued on.  He bent down as he
finished unzipping the garment and he kissed the small of her back. 
Melissa shivered at the light contact.
 
            As Ron rose back up, his hands moved inside the dress,
running gently up her sides.  Reaching her shoulders, Ron pushed the
dress and her bra off her shoulders, and gently manipulated them both
down her arms, until they fell off her body.  The dress fell to the
floor, but, thick as it was, it left her standing in a significant pool
of fabric.
 
            Ron took advantage of her immobility.  He moved up close
behind her, and ran his hands along her hips until they met in front of
her.  He then lifted them up and separated them, until each hand was
softly cupping a warm, full tit.  Melissa moaned as Ron’s fingers
gently caressed the flesh of her breasts, moving gently over her
nipples repeatedly until they were fully erect.  Ron kissed the nape of
her neck, and slid his tongue up until it rested just below her
earlobe, which he took into his mouth and sucked on.
 
            Melissa was writhing in pleasure now, but completely unable
to repay the favor.  She was panting hard by the time Ron lowered his
hands from her chest, and moved toward her panties.  Once there, he
pulled them gingerly off her hips, and allowed them to fall, adding to
the pile of cloth already on the floor.  Then, he moved back around to
face her, and once again took in her lovely body, this time unhindered
by clothing.  Melissa blushed slightly at his attention.
 
            Ron reached his arms out to her, and she fell into his
embrace.  He lifted her with ease out of the huge pile of garments, and
he carried her over to the bed.  She wrapped her legs around his waist
to assist him, and he knelt onto the bed, keeping her in his arms.
 
            As he used his extension to untie and remove his boots, Ron
pulled Melissa to him and kissed her passionately, her mouth opening to
accept his tongue, which sought out hers and massaged it.  Ron sent
some feeble tendrils of energy into her pleasure centers, heightening
her arousal as he continued to kiss her and caress her back.
 
            Melissa grasped at Ron’s uniform, but made no headway in
getting it off.  Soon, she lost interest, as Ron moved his mouth off
hers, and down to her chin, around her jaw, and down her neck.  As his
mouth moved down her body, she was a little startled to realize that
she was rising off the bed, rather than him bending to meet her body. 
This fascination changed to ecstasy as his lips met up with her left
nipple, softly suckling it and gently caressing its hot tip.  His
tongue flicked out and slipped across her tit with a feather touch.  A
deep moan escaped her throat.
 
            Ron slipped his mouth over to her other nipple, making sure
it got equal treatment.  The tendrils of energy in her mind became
thicker tentacles of joy, and her mind was enraptured with the feelings
he was giving her, both physically and mentally.
 
            Further down he slid, or further up she went, however one
wished to look at it.  Finally, as she lay in mid-air, her body
reclined, and her legs to either side of his head, Ron’s tongue softly
flicked across her pussy lips.  Melissa groaned loudly in pleasure, as
tingles of joy leapt from her pussy to her brain and back again.
 
            Ron’s tongue danced amid the folds of her womanhood,
entrancing the teenage queen.  He licked from the very bottom of her
lips, slowly and sensually along their length until he reached her
hood, under which was hidden her rather swollen clit.  This he tenderly
sucked into his mouth, and his tongue gently rubbed it to and fro.  Her
mind reeled in pleasure as her orgasm overtook her body.  She squirmed
in mid-air, crying out in delight.
 
            Ron continued to nuzzle her cunt until she came down from
her orgasm.  At some point, which she had not noticed, he had removed
all of his clothing, apparently without using his hands.  He pulled her
body back toward him, back down to the bed.  She leaned over and they
kissed as her body slid down his.  Her legs wrapped around his body
again, as she settled toward his waist.  As she came down, she was
aware that Ron had positioned himself perfectly, and she settled, very
slowly, onto his hard cock.  She inhaled sharply at the feel of him
penetrating her, sending waves of gratification through her body.
 
            Their kiss continued as he began to use his arms to move
her on his cock.  They moved together slowly at first, allowing them
each to feel the full sensation of the other’s body, reveling in the
sensations.  Melissa could feel the hard points of her tits rubbing
against Ron’s chest, leaving hot trails in his flesh.
 
            Soon, the slow pace grew into a more frenzied outpouring of
passion.  Ron pushed them forward, and laid Melissa down onto the bed. 
He moved faster then, rutting into her to give her the utmost in
pleasure.  The tentacles of energy in her mind began to pulse, sending
wave after wave of pleasure: a tsunami of ecstasy was building in her
psyche.
 
            As Ron thrust into her, and she pushed back at him, they
both neared their peaks.  Ron came first, his cum filling her womb.  As
he did so, the tsunami of energy in her mind broke over, and her
pleasure centers were awash with blissful sensations of sexual
enjoyment.  Her orgasm was mind-wrenching, and her screams of pleasure
filled the room as her body squirmed in delight.
 
            It took several moments for them both to settle from the
experience.  When he was able, Ron rolled to one side of her, his
softening dick slipping from her, but he kept his arm draped
comfortably over her, his head nestled in her splayed hair.  There,
they napped.
 
 
 
            Some days later, Ron and Kim were walking to the cafeteria
after a planning session for the protection of New York City.  It was
clear to Ron that an attack was coming soon, and he had begun to detail
an entire plan for the defense of America’s largest city.
 
            Their discussion was interrupted by an outbreak of noise
from the public living area.  They headed in that direction to see what
was going on.
 
            They entered a large room, to see a man assaulting a young
woman.  On closer inspection, he recognized the lady as Jenna
Calverson, the young woman he had saved from being raped on the street.
 
            As Ron was about to intervene, another person approached
the scene, and gave the man a strong blow to the back of his head.  His
body slouched from the impact, and the person grabbed hold of him and
threw him backward, so that he landed on his back.
 
            Ron was somewhat amazed to find that Jenna’s defender was,
in fact, his sister Nikki.
 
            “Leave her alone!  Nobody pulls that shit here!”
 
            “Listen up, little girl,” the man said menacingly as he
rose to his feet.  “I will do what I damned well please, and I please
to have that girl!”
 
            The man rushed Nikki, who let him get within about four
feet before she whirled around in a spinning back-kick to the man’s
midsection, sending him sprawling as the air *whooshed* out of his
lungs.  He collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.
 
            The man struggled to his feet, and Kimberly made to help
her friend.  Ron held out his hand to prevent her.  “Nikki knows what
she’s doing.  She doesn’t need our help.”
 
            Once more the man rushed her, to be met with a snap
front-kick that connected solidly with his jaw.  He went flying
backward again, only this time he was quite unconscious.
 
            What Nikki did not see was the man sneaking up behind her
with a baton raised to strike.  Ron waited just as long as he could, to
see if she would catch on.  But, as the man closed to striking
distance, and with Nikki’s attention still focused forward, Ron reached
out with his mind and flung the man into the nearest wall, leaving a
rather deep impression as the man slumped to the floor after impact.
 
            The room grew silent as Ron entered and made his way across
to his sister.  She looked up at him as he looked down at the guy on
the floor, and then back at her.  She waited for his judgment with a
bit of fear, worried that he wouldn’t approve.
 
            Ron said, “Next time, watch your back.”  Then he smiled at
her and patted her on the shoulder.  As he walked over to the other
attacker, Kim gave Nikki a big hug.
 
            Ron looked down at the heavily injured man, who was
conscious, but just barely.  “There are far less painful ways to die
than attacking my sister.  If you ever do it again, I will make you beg
for death.”  Ron turned to the soldiers that had heard the commotion
and come to assist.  “Take these two to the infirmary.  When each is
well, you will escort him to the gate, and make sure he leaves.”
 
            The man who had tried to attack Nikki was aware enough of
what was going on to try to beg for his status.  Ron looked at him with
an iron-hard, cold glare.  “You should have worried about your neck
before you tried to hurt my sister.  I won’t kill you myself, but I’ll
be damned if I’m going to feed you, clothe you, and house you after
this.  Good luck.  I hope you learn about bullies on the outside. 
Don’t ever come back here.”
 
            Ron moved off, the crowd still silent.
 
            Nikki went over to Jenna, who was still sitting on the
ground, her clothes torn.  She helped the lady up and asked, “Are you
okay?”
 
            “I think so,” she answered, a bit shakily.  “Better than I
would have been if you hadn’t shown up, that’s for sure.”  Jenna gave
Nikki a strong hug, which Nikki returned.
 
            “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.  You look like you could
use a good hot bath, too.”
 
 
 
            Ron decided to give his troops just one more week to
prepare.  Then he called them all together on the parade ground.  A
quick count told a miserable tale: just over nine thousand troops left,
out of a total of more than twenty thousand.  The numbers used to
depress him: now they just pissed him off.
 
            “Okay, boys and girls,” he began, “For the last month, we
have been training intensively here, and we haven’t gone out for any
battles.  We have seen that the FC’s attacks have slackened since they
noticed our lack of reaction.  This proves my theory that they have
been attacking our cities for the sole purpose of getting us to react.
 
            “Well, we made a mess of things so far, but this time *we*
call the shots.  We are moving out tomorrow morning, for New York.  We
will set up our defenses in the city, and we will wait for the
attackers to come.  This time they may not like the result!”
 
            A cheer went up from the assembled multitude.  Ron finished
off by saying, “The remainder of today is a stand-down period.  We move
out at 0900 tomorrow!  *Dismissed*!”
 
            As the crowd broke up, Ron went back down into the shelter,
to see how the preparations were coming for his family.  He had
selected a very specific group of soldiers to remain behind and defend
the facility.  It would draw on his ability to defend New York, but he
was willing to take that chance.  He was *not* willing to put his
family in more jeopardy than necessary.
 
            He found his mother in her room, rocking little Brian to
sleep.  Ron moved quietly over to them, and looked down.  The baby had
his eyes closed, his breathing as regular as it could be for a newborn
of only two weeks.  His mother looked tired.
 
            “You’re not letting the girls help out, Mom.”  He spoke
quietly, but his mother sensed the concern in his voice.
 
            “I’ll be okay, honey.  I did okay with you, didn’t I?”  She
smiled at him, and he kissed her softly.  Then he left them to each
other, while he continued to survey the planning.
 
 
 
            At 0859 the next morning, the Provisional Psionic Army
lifted off as a unit into the morning sky, heading for New York City. 
The trip was scheduled to take seven hours, due to the fact that
psionics of lesser ability were joining in this battle, and they were
not able to fly as fast as the more capable psionics.
 
            Kimberly flew next to Ron, trying not to relive the
memories of her first battle in this war, triggered by flying over the
same route.  Ron noticed her subdued manner, and took her hand in
support.  She smiled over at him, thanking him silently for the
encouragement.
 
            *<You’re a lot better now than you were back then, Kim.>*
 
*            <But am I good enough?>*
 
*            <I believe in you.>*
 
            His comment filled her with a warm confidence that was hard
to explain, but she welcomed it.
 
            They flew on.
 
 
 
            At 1627, or what most would call 4:30 in the afternoon, the
PPA descended from the sky into the city of New York.  Strangely, this
city was still full of people.  Most large cities had been deserted,
and more than a million had left New York, but with so many people
living here, the city still held more than nine million.  It amazed Ron
that this city had grown so large, housing over ten and a half million
people by this point.  Why hadn’t more of them left?
 
            *First thing’s first,* he said to himself. *<Captain
Maxton!>*
 
            Bob Maxton, formerly a commander in the US Navy, now a
captain in the PPA, flew over to his commanding officer.
 
            “Yes, sir!” he said, floating at attention.
 
            “I want you to take a unit of two hundred men over to the
Statue of Liberty.  Take no one less than a psion-9, and no one higher
than a psion-12.  I want you to secure the statue.  If it falls, you
will answer to me.  Is that understood?”
 
            “Yes, sir!  Um, sir?  What if the battle for the city
starts going badly?”
 
            “You let me worry about the city.  Trust me, if nine
thousand of us can’t stop them, then two hundred medium-level psionics
aren’t going to add much to the fight.  Now, go!”  He watched him move
off to gather his team together, and then he turned to other tasks.
 
 
 
            Kara Heinlein was fuming.  Once again she’d been given the
impossible task of keeping the reporters safe.  She wondered who they
were reporting *to* by now, but didn’t feel like asking them.  They
were returning now from seeing the preparations for the defense of the
Statue of Liberty, which Melissa Conway, ace reporter, just absolutely
*had* to see.
 
            Kara dropped them on the roof of a tall office building not
too close to the city’s center.  Not that it would matter a damn: Kara
was sure that New York was going to be completely wasted after this.
 
            *<Listen up, troops!>* a message was coming in from her
commander.  *<I need all of you to work as repeaters.  Spread out to
fill the city, I need to broadcast to all of the people, and I have to
make damned sure they hear me.  Link up the net, just like we trained.>*
 
            Kara focused her energy, and found her nearest companions. 
She was covering an area of only about 20 blocks, which was an
insignificant distance, even for her feeble telepathic skills.
 
            It turned out that even this would not be necessary, for
just moments later, Ron touched down on her rooftop, so that Melissa
could get his announcement on film.
 
 
 
            At 1700 hours on March 24, the commanding officer of the
PPA made his announcement to the city of New York.  It went out on the
airwaves, but more importantly was broadcast telepathically to everyone
within range.
 
            *<Ladies and gentlemen of New York City, this is General
Ron Chaffey, commanding officer of the Provisional Psionic Army of the
United States of America.  At this time, I am declaring a state of
general emergency within the New York City metropolitan area.*
 
*            <As of this date, we are aware that the Filitov Council, a
group of rebel Russian psionics, will be attacking New York in the near
future.  At this time, I am formally announcing that civilians will be
given no concern by either side of the conflict.  If you happen to get
in the middle of the battle, chances are you will be killed.  My
soldiers will not take their concentration off the battle to defend
you, to save you, or even to avoid hitting you accidentally.*
 
*            <At this time, I am recommending that all citizens within
the city leave now.  We will facilitate efforts to clear the city up
until the point that battle commences, at which time you are on your
own.  Since we do not know at what time or day that will be, we would
ask you to leave as soon as is possible for you.  Be aware that subways
are running, as are the buses.*
 
*            <I can tell you that the battle for New York City will be
very major, and will probably result in the almost complete destruction
of the city proper.  If you refuse to leave, I cannot guarantee, or
even expect, your safety.  If you must remain here, please stay on the
lower levels of buildings, as it will be less dangerous for you when
they are knocked over.  In psionic warfare, buildings can and will be
completely leveled by just two or three psionics working together, or
even by opposing enemies trying to do different things to the building.*
 
            *<I wish I could give you more heartening news, but in all
likelihood, New York will not survive its encounter with psionics.  I
wish there was another way to do this, but there isn’t.  Please leave
now.  That is all.>*
 
            What followed this message was roughly three minutes of
almost complete silence.  And then all hell broke loose.  Horns were
honking, cars were slamming into each other, and people were yelling. 
The chaos would continue for several hours.
 
 
 
            It was midnight before the chaos had died down to mere
bedlam.  Hundreds of PPA troops were doing traffic duty, making sure
that as many civilians as wanted to could get out of the city in an
orderly fashion.  Unfortunately, it was estimated that over four
million people were not making any effort to leave.
 
            “Fucking morons,” Ron growled.
 
            “They’re New Yorkers.  They think they can withstand
anything,” Jeff replied.
 
            “Perhaps I should toss a few of them through a building and
teach them a lesson.”  He didn’t really mean it, but his temper was
showing again.
 
            “Sir, my troops are formed up and ready.”
 
            “Very well.  Go lead your guys.  Be careful, Jeff.  See you
on the other side.”
 
            “Yes, sir.  Good luck to you, too.”  As Jeff flew off, Ron
wondered if he would ever see him, or any of his friends, again.  He
wandered off to find Kimberly.
 
 
 
            Ron began to wonder if he had miscalculated.  They had been
here for nearly a week, and no action had been taken by the Filitov
Council.  Some of the New Yorkers had actually come back to the city,
against the loud protests of the PPA soldiers.  Their orders were not
to intentionally harm the civilians, however, and they had strict
orders against publicly using their mind control abilities.  So, by the
end of March, the city’s population was back up to nearly six million
people.  This worried Ron immensely, but he was fully aware that there
wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, so he merely grumbled at it.
 
            It had, however, been a nice time for him to spend with
Kimberly.  His subordinates were taking care of all the preparations,
keeping the troops trained up and ready for action, and so he, as
leader, had only to go over the plans for the battle, trying to find
weak spots and reinforcing them when he did.  He made the rounds at
least once a day, to check in with his troops, but this still left him
a lot of free time.
 
            Some of this, he was forced to spend in front of the
microphone of Melissa Conway.
 
            “General, you told us six days ago that there would be a
battle here, but as yet nothing has happened.  What would you tell the
people of New York regarding your claim?”
 
            “Melissa, I told you then, and I’ll restate it now: we
don’t know exactly when the battle will happen, but it is downright
stupid of people to *return* to New York.  The battle *is* going to
take place, this is merely a matter of timing.”
 
            “But the amount of money lost by evacuating-“
 
            Ron cut her off.  “Will mean nothing to you if you’re dead.”
 
 
 
            Although Ron’s plan for the battle was probably the best
he’d ever produced, one thing he could not have planned for was what he
thought of as the unmitigated stupidity of over six million people. 
New York was still a fully functioning, and very nearly fully occupied,
city.  This meant that all of her civil services and utilities were up
and running.  This was something Ron did not, and could not, plan for.  

            One of the more useful things that he could not plan for
was the Amtrak Metroliner.  A shuttle train, it ran from Washington,
D.C. to New York and back using trains that had recently been upgraded
to travel at nearly 200 mph, and carried a total of 25,000 passengers a
day into the city of New York.  What Ron could not know was that a
quarter of those passengers for the past two days had been Russian in
origin.
 
 
 
            It was nearly noon on March 31, and Ron was patrolling the
south end of Manhattan Island.  He had dispersed the less skilled
troops into the less concentrated portions of the city, in the hopes
that his more skilled officers would be able to save the lives of the
citizens packed into the business district.  The hope was futile, he
knew, but he clung to it, anyway.
 
            He had just passed the Empire State Building, heading
north, when the first warnings were heard.
 
            *<FC soldiers attacking in Central Park!>*  This was Kim’s
designated area, and the warning had come from her second in command,
Stefan.  The attack came entirely without warning.  However, this time,
Ron had suspected as much, and planned to fight the battle without the
benefit of any alert ahead of time.
 
            *<All troops, this is Ron.  Shields up now!  Keep your eyes
peeled, the enemy is already in the city.  If it ain’t wearing a PPA
uniform, consider it dangerous!>*  This order left unsaid the standing
battle plan for this city: the civilians were not to be given
consideration.  If it moved, it would be shot at.
 
            Ron saw a flash of light to his right, and turned to see a
battle fully engaged just down the street from where he was located. 
He turned to fly in that direction.
 
 
 
            The FC soldiers had attacked a newer recruit here.  His
name was John Termannic.  He had been trained in Wyoming by a small
group of survivalist psionics.  Unfortunately, they had put the lie to
that concept when most of them had died in their first encounter with
the Russian invaders.  John had gathered those that would follow him,
and tried to make their way to the PPA’s headquarters.  It had taken
them months to get there, having to hide along the way at every turn. 
And, when they did arrive, it was at a time when the HQ was not at
Ron’s home, and so they had to wander about, wondering what to do. 
Finally, they had been accepted, and John led a small group, what would
be called a platoon, of men into battle.
 
            But he was up against more than double his troop strength. 
He had tried to lay back, directing the fight rather than engaging in
it, but that had only made him a sitting duck.  Twice he’d nearly been
killed by that tactic, and so he had changed, trying to strategize on
the move, while he meanwhile killed a few Russians on his own.
 
            His men had performed well to this point, downing more than
a dozen of the soldiers, but their own numbers were down from thirty to
twenty, and it wasn’t looking good.  John was afraid of botching this
first battle, of failing his men.
 
            He felt someone behind him, and whirled to see an FC
trooper taking aim at him.  John didn’t even have time to raise his
shields before the enemy was vaporized by a heavy blast.  John took a
deep breath before looking for his savior, and so when he looked up, he
was looking him right in the face.  And that nearly made him faint.
 
            “General!” John cried in surprise.
 
            “Gotta watch your back, John,” Ron said in greeting.  “Need
a hand?”
 
            John just nodded, and Ron took the lead.  “Okay, let’s move
out.”  Ron took quick stock of the battle, and then began issuing
mental orders.  The PPA troops snapped to his command, and the battle
seemed to be going well.
 
            Just then, FC reinforcements appeared from the east.  Ron
counted quickly.  He came up with twenty, and that put the odds at
worse than three to one.
 
            Ron sensed someone behind him, and swerved just as a bolt
of energy sizzled past his head.  He didn’t even look to see who it
was, but instead zapped a line of energy back in the direction the
other shot had come from.  He heard a high-pitched scream, and knew he
had struck his target.  He plunged down out of the sky, seeking to get
in the dirt for better cover.  He weaved his way through debris and
stopped vehicles.  He didn’t even bother to notice if there were still
people in them or not.  It was no longer an important issue to him.
 
            He swerved around a corner to avoid a blast, and
encountered a knot of FC goons.  He stopped short, and found, to his
surprise, that John was right beside him.  Ron motioned, and they
split, each taking one side of the street.  The enemy saw them, and
began moving in that direction.  Ron waited until they’d closed the
distance some, and then signaled to John.  Together, they opened fire. 
Ron figured John at roughly a psion-14 rating, and the two of them
together presented devastating fire to the enemy.  It wasn’t long
before these soldiers were decimated.
 
            John hollered a warning, and Ron ducked another blast aimed
for him.  John removed the troublesome soldier from the sky, and they
turned to fly back into the fray.
 
            However, the other PPA soldiers weren’t doing so well in
this fight.  As it was nearly four-on-one now, most of them didn’t have
a chance.  Ron looked around in frustration, seeking a way to turn the
tide.  He looked up, and realized he was hovering in front of the
Chrysler building.  John had picked this spot as the center of battle
for his troops, since it was an easy landmark to spot.  Ron got an idea.
 
            *<PPA soldiers to the immediate south of the Chrysler
building:  Execute plan Godzilla now!>*
 
            John looked at him in shock.  The plan had been discussed,
and even rehearsed in a small way, but none of the leaders had ever
really expected him to do it.
 
            Ron flew upward, toward the top of the Chrysler building. 
He hovered just above its spire, watching as his troops lured the enemy
soldiers into position, just as the FC had done to his men so many
times before.  When enough soldiers were gathered to make it worth the
effort, Ron turned to John.
 
            “Give me a hand with this thing!”
 
            Together, they focused their energies.  Forming their
extensions into a mighty wall, they heaved against the Chrysler
building.  It did not go easily, for it was a very well-constructed
edifice, but Ron and John did not stop, and soon, they heard the groans
that indicated the building was about to go.  John faltered when he
heard screams coming from within the building.
 
            “Ron, there are people in there!”
 
`           “Yeah, and there are *our friends* down there, who are
getting wailed on!  The people in this building had *plenty* of fucking
warning.  Now PUSH!”
 
            John did as he was told, and soon the building began to
topple.  The PPA soldiers, having sufficient warning time, quickly
moved out of the way.  However, the FC troopers were not that
fortunate.  They had been lured into the kind of trap they had so often
set, and too late they learned that it was a very effective maneuver
for the other side, as well.  As the building fell over on its side, it
crumbled, and the falling rubble killed the nearest Russians.  Those
farther away were no luckier, for they could not see the building
falling, and yet, as it crashed into other buildings, it took them down
as well, and they added to the falling debris.
 
            Ron let out a whoop as he saw the buildings smash to the
ground, knowing there were at least two hundred troops underneath the
rubble, and not a single one of them was his.
 
            John was torn between revulsion at the loss of innocent
life, and gratification at seeing his enemy decimated.  Ron understood
the dichotomy better than anyone, but he had resolved the issues in his
own mind.  He could only hope that John would do the same eventually.
 
            “Let’s meet up with another group.  These small teams
aren’t going to work, we need to have larger groups in the main city.” 
John nodded, and off they went.
 
 
 
            Meanwhile, Kim and her troops were doing their very best in
Central Park.  Stefan had made the first alert call.  He was standing
guard at The Met, and had seen FC soldiers on the move.  Kim didn’t
bother to ask him anything further, for she knew he would be busy
keeping alive.
 
            She held a large force of forty, but they were not all of
her troops.  Some of her Hunters were stationed throughout the park, to
keep her apprised of where the enemy was.  Her unit was hidden within
the trees and shrubs of an area known as The Ramble, in the southern
section of the park.  It offered her good cover and ambush
possibilities.
 
            She waited as the reports came in, the FC was sweeping
across the park from east to west.  It didn’t take long before they
were almost upon her troops.
 
            *<Hunters, attack!>* came her cry.  As one, the Hunters let
loose a fearsome battle cry and rose out of the trees, fanning out to
cover a greater area, but always remaining in support teams of three or
four.  Kim took two with her, as she led the charge, straight at the
heart of the attacking force.  She fairly flew over the ground, her
feet barely touching.  One lashed a wicked blast of energy in her
direction, but her training allowed her to flick it away.  She returned
the favor with a laser-like blast of power, vaporizing the Russian’s
head.  Beside her, a young girl named Shana let loose a powerful blast
of energy, felling three of the enemy at once.  Kim nodded, impressed
with the girl’s abilities.
 
            Her second companion had fallen behind, but he was hurrying
to make up for his deficiency.  Several bolts of energy flew from his
hands, one after the other.  The rapid fire technique caught two FC
troops off-guard, and they couldn’t withstand the repeated barrage. 
They succumbed to his attack quickly.
 
            But the enemy would not be beaten so easily.  A knot of
troops formed to face Kim and her friends.  It became a ten-on-three
competition.  Kim led her team, dodging and weaving through trees and
behind bushes, moving north.  Soon, she had to cross a large, open
space.  She held her team at the tree line, waiting to see what the FC
would do.  The enemy, down to seven now, split into small groups to try
to flank her.  She was expecting this, and let loose a blast of energy
at the group directly to her front.  Her companions did likewise, and
the team of three was down.  Kim hurried her troops across the grass.
 
            She had not expected to lose control of the overall battle
so quickly.  Kim knew that she was a better small-team fighter than a
strategist, but she had hoped to learn a few things from Ron.  It
occurred to her briefly to wonder how he was doing, but a bolt of
energy sizzling past her head cured her of that folly.  She rolled and
turned to take the enemy down, but Shana had already removed them from
her sight.
 
            Before them stood a huge castle, as if pulled right out of
a storybook.  Kim made for it, hoping to lose the enemy in the
confusion of terraces, gardens, trees, and, if necessary, the building
itself.
 
            They reached the castle, and ducked into a garden area. 
They lifted their heads to seek out the enemy, but saw no one.  Either
they had taken down the last of them, or they were trying something
other than a direct attack.
 
            Suddenly, they were being fired upon from within the castle
itself.  Kim had not expected that they might have pre-positioned some
people here.  She compensated quickly, dodging around the corner of the
building and again moving off.  She encountered a small pond, and so
skirted the area, keeping to cover as much as possible.  She knew what
she was facing now was not the main thrust of the attack.  She felt
that there was a severe battle happening near Stefan.
 
            She saw the battle soon after, happening in a great, wide
open area of grass.  It was just across from The Met, and there were
dozens of troops fighting back and forth.  She could see Stefan then,
his shirt torn, but otherwise unhurt.  He seared the hair off one
Russian, who then ducked away.  But a female FC soldier swung at
Stefan, and he had to roll out of the way of the attack.
 
            Kim could tell that, although they were currently holding
their own, the Hunters could not win this particular confrontation. 
They were outnumbered, but not heavily.  But the battle plan said that
Kim and her Hunters were on their own.  The FC probably had
reinforcements coming.
 
            She looked around, and saw what she needed, if she could
lift it.  Standing at the edge of this great grassy area was an obelisk
of immense proportions.  She wrapped her extension around it, and
heaved.  It was heavy, oh, so heavy, but she got it off the ground. 
Behind her, Shana and Grogan helped her, and the three of them
maneuvered it over the battlefield.  She sent a warning to her own
troops, who kept the Russians occupied just long enough that, when the
obelisk came crashing down, ten of them were under it.  The battle was
far more even now, and she rose to lead her small group into the thick
of it.
 
            Kim waded into battle, Shana at her side.  Grogan had
disappeared into the melee.  The two of them worked back to back,
fighting enemies and protecting each other.  Kim blocked a savage blast
intended for Shana, who then killed the offending Russian.  Shana
flipped a blast at another FC soldier, who easily dodged it, right into
Kim’s more directed and forceful energy beam.
 
            On and on they fought, until finally they were by Stefan’s
side.
 
            “How is it going?” she hollered to him.
 
            “We’re still alive, aren’t we?” he shouted back.  Although
his words conveyed worry, Kim could see the battle lust welling from
within him.  He longed for moments like this.  As did she, but not
until they were happening did she appreciate that fact.  Beforehand,
she was as terrified as any green recruit.
 
            Her thoughts snapped back into place as the enemy charged
in a line abreast.  Kim and the Hunters took careful aim, and blasted
them to hell.
 
 
 
            Kara Heinlein swore that if she survived this battle, she
was demanding a new assignment.  She had not joined up to be a
babysitter.  This duty should be spread around.
 
            They were standing atop a nondescript office building,
watching the battles rage around them.  They had gotten excellent
footage of the Chrysler building falling over.  Of course, they were
too far to see how many people it killed, or of what nationality, but
as Rick had put it earlier, “It all makes good television.”
 
            Kara’s attention was drawn to a small group of black-clad
Russians trying to sneak up on them.  She raised her shields around her
charges, but tried to pretend she didn’t see the enemy.  When the FC
had gotten within fifty yards, she lanced out a heavy bolt of energy at
them.  Though they scattered, three of them were injured.  One of those
fell to the ground and was impaled on metal rebar, dying a bloody death.
 
            Still, the rest of the Russian group fired on Kara.  Her
shields held, but she knew that she couldn’t hold them off for long
this way.
 
            “Time to get dangerous, guys.  We’re going to have to go
down in the weeds.”
 
            Before the others could say anything, Kara lifted them off
the roof, and moved over the side.  Rick was filming the entire
proceeding, and she hoped that he was getting good coverage of this
madness.  She dove down the side of the building, psionic blasts
chasing after her but missing as she weaved.  She heard Melissa groan,
and Kara could only hope that when the reporter puked, it would miss
her.
 
            They swept low to the ground, pulling up at the last
possible second.  Kara rolled to look up at her attackers, and lanced
another bolt of mental power at them.  She got the lead attacker, who,
in his confusion, veered directly into the building so fast that he
left a red smear on its face.
 
            Immediately, Kara began the chase again, swerving to miss
obstacles in the street.  Two blasts of energy singed her uniform, but
she managed to recover from them without incident.
 
            Around one corner, and then another, she led the Russians
on a merry chase.  She had their numbers down to just four now, but
those four weren’t trailing two tagalongs.  Kara was beginning to get
weary, but her job was to keep these two safe.  She turned one more
corner and came to a dead stop.  She waited for the other team to turn
the corner…
 
            But they didn’t.  They came over the top of the building. 
The first blast wasn’t quite strong enough to penetrate her shield, and
that’s what saved them.  Kara was instantly on the move again.  She
rushed headlong through a destroyed building and out the other side,
weaving to avoid the psionic fire sent after her.  She wheeled around
and engulfed one more attacker in her own fire, but the other three
were ready this time, and a coordinated attack assaulted her.  She
wasn’t strong enough to repel the whole onslaught.  She fought every
inch, until she could set her charges down on the ground, safe for the
moment.  Then she gave one last push, everything she had.
 
            She took out one last attacker, but the remaining two
overpowered her, sending her crashing down into a pile of rubble. 
Melissa and Rick rushed to her side as she fell, unconscious.  The two
Russians moved in for the kill, and Melissa cringed as Rick
videotaped.  The enemy was within a hundred yards of the wounded PPA
officer when they were vaporized by an attacking PPA squad.  The leader
waved to the camera as he passed, then pointed back the way he had come.
 
            When Melissa had a chance to look, the others were already
upon them.  She panicked for a moment, until she realized it was the
PPA medical corp.
 
 
 
            Susan Chandler had been working feverishly to heal the
soldiers wounded in this battle.  It was a futile effort for her small
band of less than a hundred, but she had to do what she could.  She
swooped down to land at Kara’s side, joined moments later by a
gray-clad PPA regular.
 
            Thomas Warfield had become Susan’s protector ever since she
had rescued him from injuries sustained in a losing battle some weeks
ago.  She had remained by his side as he had recovered, and their
friendship had blossomed.  Now, he covered her as she did her duty,
working to save the lives of brave PPA soldiers downed in battle.  He
often felt she had the hardest job of all, and he knew in his heart she
was the bravest person he’d ever met.  To run through a battlefield
with no way to defend yourself, and no thought to your own personal
safety was, in his estimation, the real definition of a hero.
 
            Susan worked furiously.  Although Kara’s injuries on the
outside looked bad, Susan could tell that, with some quick repair work,
they would only mean a little down time for the young lady.  Susan
completely ignored the television crew as she did her job, methodically
working over Kara’s body, trying to repair the major injuries far
enough that she could be transported back to the MASH unit.
 
            “Bloody hell,” exclaimed Tom.  His expression was so
nonchalant as to draw her immediate attention.  He was only truly calm
when his life was in danger.
 
            A large unit of FC troops were converging on them, intent,
she was sure, on finishing off the wounded trooper, and anyone else
they could get in the bargain.
 
            Tom knew differently.  Tom knew they were after Susan.  The
FC had definitely identified the medical corps, and the threat they
presented.  He turned to look for assistance, but saw none.  He let out
a telepathic call for help before turning to Susan.
 
            “Dear, we should be getting out of here.”
 
            “I can’t move her yet,” Susan responded calmly.
 
            “If you don’t, we all may wind up beside her.”
 
            “I *can’t move her yet*,” Susan replied with more emphasis.
 
            Tom sighed.  He had been here before.  He only hoped it
wouldn’t get him killed this time.  He erected his strongest shield. 
“You’ve got about five minutes before this gives out entirely, love, so
I do suggest you work quickly.”
 
            “Understood,” she said, and turned back to her patient.
 
            Tom’s shield flared with the psionic energy assaulting it. 
His face grimaced, as if in pain.  His concentration was total, and he
couldn’t possibly break it, or they were all surely dead.
 
            He looked up, and saw that most of the Russians attacking
them were stupidly standing in the open.  Tom weakened his shields just
enough to release a small ball of mental strength.  With all the
weaponry flying around, he didn’t think anyone would notice this small
amount of power.  

            He slid the ball up behind one of the attackers, whose
attention was fully focused on invading Tom’s shield.  The ball struck
quickly from behind, entering the man’s skull and severing several
important neural paths.  The enemy fell from the sky without a scream,
and Tom moved the ball on to the next target.
 
            He managed this kind of attack ten times before the enemy
caught on, and intensified its fire, so that he could no longer spare
the energy of the attack.  He pulled his entire strength into his
shielding, to give Susan as much time as he possibly could.  But, he
knew they had less than a minute left of his strength.
 
            “It’s now or never, love.  We’ve got to go.”
 
            “I’m not ready yet.  Hold out just another minute!  You can
do it!”
 
            “I don’t think I’ve got another minute in me.  But I’ll
give it a go.”
 
            His strength was beginning to fail, and even the reporter
could tell.  The enemy was fully aware, and they intensified their
attack even further.  Tom was brought to his knees, his power almost
gone.
 
            The attack came from out of the sun, totally unexpected. 
The Russians were completely off-guard, and didn’t detect it
beforehand.  The PPA troops came en masse, one hundred troops in
formation.  The first blast wave of energy annihilated over half the
Russian group.  The rest scattered as leaves before a tornado.  The PPA
force maintained its formation, but the leader broke off, to fly down
to check out the small group of survivors.
 
            Ron landed a few feet from Tom.  He walked over, and helped
his friend up.  “Looks like we got here just in time.”
 
            “Too bloody right!” Tom exclaimed.  “The lass was a bit
stubborn about not wanting to move her patient.”
 
            “Been there, done that.  You get used to it after a
while.”  Ron communicated with his group, and they returned to land on
the ground.  “Susan, is she ready to move yet?”
 
            “I’d rather not, but I guess we’ve got to get her out of
here.  Even in my force field, the ride’s going to be bumpy for her.”
 
            “Would more troops helping you move her be of any use?”
 
            “Hell, yes!”
 
            “John!” Ron summoned.  John ran to his general’s side and
came to attention.  

            “Yes, sir!” he barked.
 
            “I want you to get these people, *all* of them, to the
medical unit.  If all five of them don’t make it there safely, I will
be very upset.  Understood?”
 
            John went a little pale, but his back remained straight. 
“Yes, sir!”
 
            “Move out!”
 
            John rallied his unit, which gathered the five into their
psionic embrace, and moved off, keeping low to the ground to avoid
attention.  Ron headed off to see what he could see.
 
 
 
            Jeff Durant and his group were in trouble.  They’d been in
trouble since the battle started.  He hadn’t called for help, because
he knew that others were in just as bad a shape as he was.
 
            He was hiding behind the corner of a building with what was
left of his seventy-five men.  He refused to do a count at this point,
but he knew it was roughly half that number left.  He peered around the
corner with televiewing to see if the enemy was there.  He saw no one,
and so he signaled to his men.  They flew around the corner at full
speed.
 
            Right into an ambush.  A Russian mentspec had fooled his
televiewing, and they were waiting for the team.  The FC opened up full
force, and Jeff’s men quickly moved behind cover, hoping to dodge the
attack.
 
            Jeff fled behind a small van which was protected by some
rubble.  No one needed to wonder what the staining on the streets was
any longer, for it was all blood.  The blood of his men, the blood of
the enemy, and the blood of hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of
civilians.
 
            He hunkered down, wondering what the hell he was supposed
to do.  He was outnumbered, outgunned, and he’d been outmaneuvered by
his own stupidity.  He let his thoughts wander as the battle raged
around him, and it almost got him killed.
 
            Two FC psionics swept around the van from either side. 
Only a last-second warning saved Jeff’s hide, as he slipped beneath the
van and into a manhole.  He watched their feet land on the asphalt, and
then he moved.  Using all his might, he heaved the van into the two
unsuspecting Russians, flinging them, with the van, into the nearest
building.  As he held the van against the wall, he saw a stream of red
wash down the concrete.  He let the van drop, thankfully not seeing the
remains of his enemy.
 
            His thoughts better focused, he returned to the battle.  He
saw one of his friends go down from a volley of coordinated fire.  He
took out one of those before the rest came after him, trying to get him
in a similar crossfire situation.  He bobbed and weaved through the
wreckage of the city, not giving them the opportunity to set up their
little trap.  He caught one not paying enough attention, and managed to
push him into a traffic light, electrocuting the man.  Jeff marveled
for the merest moment at the fact that the power was still working. 
Electricity for New York is underground, and the battle hadn’t torn up
*all* that much of the street… yet.
 
            A ball of energy whizzed past his head, and he turned to
see that he had, in fact, been intercepted.  He swept down, under, and
through a building whose windows had been blasted clear.  He moved
through offices, using doorways, hallways, even elevator shafts to move
about.  He emerged on the other side of the building, and the enemy
still hadn’t found him.  He dashed away, hoping not to be seen, but, in
his haste, he rushed headlong into another group of soldiers.
 
            These FC troops were engaging a small group of PPA
officers.  Jeff had the drop on them, and he took the shots, taking
three out before they turned on him.  The PPA officers attempted to
draw fire back, but the geography of the landscape didn’t make it an
easy thing, and so Jeff darted away again, the Russians in pursuit.
 
            Jeff watched familiar landmarks flash past as he wove his
way through downtown Manhattan.  Occasionally, he’d turn a corner and
wait, to see if he could catch them, but always they managed to
surprise him.  He wasn’t thinking clearly, and it was going to get him
in all sorts of hot water if he wasn’t careful.
 
            He looked around, spotting another pile of rubble.  He
landed behind it and quickly wheeled around, firing as he went.  One
Russian was careless, and got caught in the blast, disintegrating
before he even started to fall.  The rest fired at the building behind
Jeff, causing the bricks to fall down upon him.
 
            *Oh, no, I’ve been here before.  Not this time.*  He bolted
away, just as a large pile of debris came crashing down onto the
pavement.  Two more corners, and this time, he sped up, moving to
circle the block.
 
            He did catch them off-guard this time.  He snapped the neck
of one as he sailed past, and kicked another in the head to confuse
him, then he was off, around another corner, their volley of fire
missing harmlessly behind him.
 
            He was down to four pursuers now, and he felt he had a good
chance of getting away.  Just then, he turned the wrong corner, and
found a full-fledged encounter under way.  He was caught in the midst
of crossfire, and he had to dodge quickly to avoid being shot down.  He
streaked across the area, hoping his pursuers would not follow him
through this tangled mess.
 
            He saw his escape: just down the street, the battle ended,
and he could turn behind that building…
 
            The building he saw was the Empire State Building.  At
first, Jeff didn’t understand what was happening.  The building seemed
to be vibrating.  His first thought was that it was the battle raging
around it, the ground getting pounded that caused the building to sway
slightly back and forth.  The short delay this caused meant that he
didn’t send out a warning until what was happening was already obvious
to everyone else.
 
            Those on the ground were aware of the shaking, but were
pinned down by greater numbers, and couldn’t get away.  Those in the
air had less warning, and weren’t inclined to leave their comrades in
any event.  When the bricks startled falling, it was too late for
everyone.
 
            Jeff was traveling now at nearly two hundred knots, and
there was no way he could have stopped.  He’d upped his speed in the
hope of clearing the area.  He could only maintain this speed for a few
seconds, and it took almost all of his strength to keep it up.  

            His lack of shielding is what did him in.  A single chunk
of brick struck him squarely in the back, and it spun him out of
control.  He took a precious second to right himself, but by then it
was far too late.
 
            The Empire State Building loomed large above him.  It was
toppling, and mere feet from his body at this point.  His mind froze
for the instant during which he might have saved himself, but then the
building connected with his body, hurtling him downward, toward the
street.
 
            *Oh, God, this is going to hurt*, was the last thought that
passed through Jeff Durant’s mind.  As his head connected with the
ledge of another building, soon to be crushed under the weight of New
York’s most famous monument, his skull fractured, and he died instantly.
 
            He was wrong: he felt no pain at all.
 
 
 
            Karen was hiding inside the back of a demolished truck. 
One corner of the top had been ripped away in an earlier battle.  Karen
was fighting alone, using her own set of tactics, worked out with Ron
and Lars, to see how effective they might be.  She had volunteered to
take the task on herself, though Lars had strongly objected.  Ron had
allowed her to do the job because he trusted her judgment, and needed
her to know that.
 
            She sat now, wondering how stupid she was being by doing
this.  The thoughts faded away, though, as she heard the battle
approaching.  She peered up through the hole in the roof, looking for
targets.
 
            Sure enough, they presented themselves, black-clad soldiers
of the FC firing on PPA troops.  She sent a burst of energy upward, and
charred her target to a crisp.  One of the enemy’s friends saw it, and
looked for who had killed her companion.  She became Karen’s next
target, burning up with a horrible scream of pain.
 
            That drew fire down on the entire area.  Karen saw it, and
winced as the volley reached the front of the truck.  She leapt out the
back just as the truck exploded, sending a fireball for half a city
block.
 
            Karen was away from it all.  She had dived into a manhole,
moving down into the sewer system.  It was dark down here, but she had
ways of handling that.  She maneuvered through the dark tunnels until
she heard a battle raging above her.  She moved to the nearest manhole,
and rose to the surface.  She lifted the manhole cover slowly, and
looked out.
 
            She saw a major battle raging, the PPA looked to have the
upper hand, but it never hurt if they had a little more help.  She
caught sight of several FC troopers gathered in a corner.  She lifted
herself up out of the manhole quickly, and volleyed off massive
fireballs.  Before she could even tell if they hit, she was ducking
back beneath the surface, the manhole clanging down after her.  A few
screams seemed close enough to be her target, but she dared not look to
find out.
 
            Instead, she moved quickly to a nearby manhole, further
down the street.  She repeated her tactic, spotting someone who looked
like he might be in charge of the FC’s maneuvers in this area.  She
took the time to lance out a mind-whip, squeezing his head from his
body.  As everyone turned to see their commander fall, she quietly
ducked down again, letting the manhole cover do its job, covering her
tracks.
 
            Once more she repeated this ploy, with further success. 
She didn’t want to press her luck, so she moved on.  She found a quiet
area, and raised herself out of the sewers.  She kept to her feet,
rather than flying, so that she could sense more easily what was
happening about her.
 
            She felt the presence of a group nearing her.  She looked
around, and saw a pile of wreckage from a building.  She used her
extension to form a burrow, and quickly climbed down into it, pulling
junk and rubble around her.
 
            The FC troops passed by, a small group of four.  As soon as
they were far enough away, she shot up out of her hiding place, and
lasered fire into them.  The first two fell without knowing why.  The
third turned and returned fire before being killed.  The fourth, more
aware than the others, directed strong fire at her, and she countered
with a massive wind-blast before ducking down into a subway entrance. 
She looked back to see him shaking his head in confusion.  She didn’t
wait for his daze to clear.
 
            Moving quickly, in case he’d seen where she went, she
darted through the subway tunnels.  She’d spent days studying this
maze, and knew exactly where she was headed.  She stopped at the bottom
of the stairs leading to street level.  She knew there was a similar
set of stairs on the other side of the street, and she was going to
make good use of that knowledge.  She waited, as she heard the battle
drawing closer.  

            When she saw the first FC goon in her field of view, she
flew at high speed up out of the subway entrance.  A continuous blast
of energy caught three of them in its fury, before she had to turn and
dart down into the opposite subway entrance. 

            She knew she’d exhausted her luck in this part of the
city.  She used the subway tunnels to make her way south, toward the
area Lars was fighting in.
 
            She emerged from the subway station into a relatively quiet
section.  Quiet is very relative when the main portion of your
battlefield has buildings being knocked down.  She ran along a sidewalk
toward the World Trade Center, where she knew Lars to be at the
moment.  She heard, rather than felt, a group of PPA soldiers being
chased toward her from around the corner.
 
            Quickly, she slid against the wall.  Concentrating, she
made herself invisible.  She stood perfectly still, hoping they
wouldn’t have the ability to sense her presence in this madness.
 
            Seconds later, the PPA men swooped around the corner and
down the street.  They were being chased by four FC scum, who she
watched just long enough  to let them get past her.  Then she
materialized, not wanting to waste her powers on subterfuge anymore. 
She let out a vicious snap of mental lightning, frying one soldier, and
knocking another to the ground.  This second one died seconds later as
she blasted his head clean from his body.
 
            The remaining two turned to take her down, but she was
already running around the corner.  They gave chase, turning the corner
and flying down the street before realizing she wasn’t there.
 
            Again, Karen materialized behind them.  This technique
wouldn’t work more than twice on someone: they were bound to figure it
out.  She used her extension to grab one of the men, first tossing him
into the other one to throw that one off balance, and then flinging her
captive into a building.  She heard the gratifying snap of breaking
bones, and watched as his body slumped to the pavement.
 
            She turned on the remaining member of the group, but he was
already fleeing around a corner.  She would let this one get away, lest
she get caught in an ambush.
 
            It was then that she heard Lars’ cry for help, and she
immediately took to the skies.
 
 
 
            The team Lars was leading had been in the same location
since the beginning of the battle.  He was stuck in place, the battle
raging around the World Trade Center twin towers.  The hotel between
them had already been razed right to the ground, burning piles of
rubble strewn everywhere.
 
            He had managed to gain some reinforcements, but too many of
his men were dying.  He saw one go down, and flashed a blaze of energy
at his attacker, having the satisfaction of watching that Russian die
in agony.  But others fired back, and Lars had to dodge and weave, as
he had been doing now for too long.
 
            There, Jared popped one Russian, but two more took him
apart.  Lars fried one, but the other got cleanly away.  Lars screamed
in anger, turning on the nearest FC trooper he could see.  That poor
woman screamed her last breath as her body was torn apart from his
extension.  He relished her pain, the bloodlust running through him in
full tilt.
 
            The Russians continued to make an attempt at a formulated
assault, but Lars’ men and women were well-trained, and the FC plans
kept coming apart when the PPA soldiers simply refused to cooperate by
dying.  On they fought, and on the Russians came, hoping to catch them
in a mistake.
 
            But Lars had learned from the previous mistakes of this
war, and he was determined not to make any more of them.  His team
fought well.  Even those who reinforced him melded into the plan
flawlessly.  But the size of the enemy’s force meant that there was no
easy answer to this standoff.  Back and forth the battle raged.  First,
the FC would spike forward, but that attack would be blunted by the PPA
troopers, who would push the FC back to the initial lines, and then
some, but the FC would rally, and they would battle forward again.
 
            On and on it went.  Lars saw no end in sight.  When the
ground started shaking, though, he knew what it meant.  His command to
scatter went out immediately, as did his cry for help.  Lars knew this
attack wasn’t going to work this time, and so he knew the FC would be
desperate, and the numbers were just too even for his liking.
 
            So intent on commanding the battle was he that Lars paid
scant attention to his own safety.  When debris started raining down
upon him, he realized he had gotten too close to the now tumbling
buildings.  He looked around quickly, but saw no easy way out.  An
errant chunk of rock struck him in the head, and he was bowled to the
ground, dazed.
 
            He saw only the building about to crush him under its
massive weight, and then, suddenly, there was a flash of movement,
nearly invisible to his eyes.  He felt something tug at his body, and
he hadn’t the concentration to fight it off if he’d wanted to.
 
            His body was carried along in the embrace of someone’s
extension.  He knew the sensation well enough.  He watched in
fascination as the twin towers of the World Trade Center collapsed
first against each other, and then the rubble tumbled out to either
side.  Several Russians actually got caught in their own trap, but the
PPA had made it out safely from this snare.
 
            He was carried to a soft area that was well shielded from
the battle, which continued to rage after the fall of the landmark
structures.  Suddenly, soft hands were rubbing his face.  He looked up
to see Karen staring down at him, concern etched into her face.
 
            “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said.  “This is
the second time you’ve saved my ass.”
 
            “If you’d stop making it necessary, I’d happily stop doing
it,” she responded.  “Are you okay?” she asked.  Not waiting for a
reply, her healing powers went to work searching for injuries.  She
found only a few minor wounds, which she patched up quickly.
 
            “We need to help the others,” he said as he sat up.  He
could see that PPA reinforcements had, in fact, arrived, and that the
battle was now well and truly in hand.
 
            The two rose to re-enter the fray.
 
 
 
            Commander Maxton was tense, and alert, but unsure of
whether or not he would in fact see any action.  They could, from their
position at the statue, see the chaos happening in Manhattan.  He
longed to get in the middle of it, warrior that he was, but he knew
that if he went in there, he just might not come out again.
 
            His team of two hundred was well-prepared for the attack. 
When it came, it was hardly a surprise.  One hundred FC soldiers came
in so low to the water they were actually leaving a wake.  A stupid
move, as it made them easier to spot.  Had they come in high enough to
get lost in the clutter of Manhattan, he might not have seen them
coming.  But it would not have made a substantial difference.
 
            The first blasts were mere feelers, trying to determine the
strength of the defending force.  None of them was going to hit the
Statue, so he had his troops merely move out of the way.  The attacking
team did not like that, and the next blasts carried more weight.  Bob
Maxton saw what he was up against: probably stronger troops than he was
leading, but he had greater numbers.  His orders were clear: defend the
Statue of Liberty with the life of every soldier in his team, if
necessary.
 
            Captain Bob Maxton issued forth his battle cry, and his
team, which had mostly been in hiding inside the structure, poured
out.  They raised an impenetrable wall of energy around the landmark,
protecting it from all but the strongest of attacks.
 
            The enemy came on anyway.  Blasting away at the wall of
protection, they flew forward relentlessly.  Their attention was so
focused on taking down that wall, they neglected some common sense
rules of warfare.
 
            The team of twenty PPA fighters rose up from the small
boats they had been waiting in.  They were now behind the enemy, who
was not paying attention.  Twenty of them would pay for that with their
lives, as the first volley of fire found its target in every case,
dropping the Russian into the water, either flaming, or already dead.
 
            The FC was outnumbered two to one and then some, and they
were challenged on two sides.  They tried to form a coherent strike
against the smaller force, but it merely scattered into the night,
making attack impossible, and chasing was suicide.  They turned back to
face Liberty Island, but the pulsing wall of energy still encased the
Statue of Liberty.  Another crew of twenty was pulled off the
protection of the Statue, as the original assault force came into the
defense grid of the island.  

            The new attack force split into two groups of ten, and
moved out to each side.  It meant the FC had a much wider front to
concern themselves with.  Already the smaller assault squads were
lobbing withering fire into the FC ranks.  Although the Russians tried
to return fire, in order to perform a successful attack, they had to
remain in a coherent unit, and so couldn’t maneuver freely.  They were
falling from the sky by the numbers, and soon they were down to less
than half their strength, without having taken a single PPA soldier
down that they could see.
 
            Bob, seeing what had happened, now called up the second
portion of his plan.  He left one hundred of his troops to maintain the
shield of the Statue, but the rest moved outside its protective cover. 
As a single unit, they formed their extensions into a massive energy
wall.  At Maxton’s command, they shoved it forward, toward their enemy.
 
            The FC could see the power of the weapon approaching them. 
They broke formation and ran for it, but it was far too late.  The wall
was upon them in seconds, and the remaining forces were thrown out of
the sky.  Most were killed by impact with the water.  Some had their
bodies physically torn in half by the wall itself.  The few survivors
dove under the water, and made their way east, hoping to avoid further
punishment from the guardians of Lady Liberty.
 
 
 
            Kim was fighting a winning battle against her foes when Ron
came down beside her.  She didn’t turn her head from battle to
acknowledge his presence, nor did he expect her to.  He immediately
joined in, adding his impressive strength to the Hunters’ refined
techniques.
 
            “How are we doing?” he asked her.
 
            “I lost Stefan about an hour ago,” she said.  “And there
have been heavy casualties.  I don’t know why they’re so damned intent
on taking this park from us!”
 
            “Symbolism, Kim!  It’s all about what the park represents!”
 
            “Well, they’re not going to get it!”  She blasted away
another Russian, and it was obvious that the FC was not going to
reinforce this battle anymore.  The Hunters were pushing the remaining
FC troops completely out of the park.  Kim took a moment to catch her
breath, and look at Ron.
 
            “So, how is the rest of the battle going?” she asked with
concern.
 
            “We lost Jeff Durant.”
 
            “Oh, no,” she said dejectedly.  Just then, Shana came up to
her commander.
 
            “Ma’am, the Russians have been swept from the park!”  She
finally recognized Ron, and bolted to attention.  “Sir!”
 
            Ron waved her down, and turned to Kim.  “Who’s this?”
 
            “Shana Veltor.  She started out with me earlier, and has
refused to leave ever since, even though it meant risking her neck more
than necessary.”
 
            Ron nodded at the young lady, who blushed.
 
            “Kim, you’ve protected the park.  You did a great job! 
It’s time to let your Hunters loose on the rest of the city.”
 
            “What if they come back for the park?” she asked.
 
            “They won’t.  And even if they do, it won’t matter.  *We*
decide when to leave this time.  Not them!”
 
            “Yes, sir!” she said.  He shot her a look, and she laughed
at him, to get him to smile.  Then, the three of them headed off to
lead the Hunters into further battle.
 
 
 
            The Battle of New York City raged for over a day and a
half.  In the end, soldiers were dying more from exhaustion than the
shots that hit them.  The fighting died out in the dark hours of the
morning of April 2.  The Russians, as a unit, flew up and away from the
city.  The PPA fired some parting shots, and even dropped a few more
soldiers, but was too weary to do anything more than let them go.
 
            It would be two more days before the Provisional Psionic
Army left the ruins of New York.  The city was completely gutted. 
Though some of the outlying districts had suffered less severe
destruction, the island of Manhattan was totally destroyed.  It would
be years before the rubble could even come close to being cleared away
for rebuilding.
 
            The loss of human life was staggering.  Later counts would
reveal that, of the 9,387 troops the PPA had fielded for this battle,
3,761 of them would never leave New York.  Estimates claimed that over
4,200 Filitov Council soldiers also died in the battle, but Ron was
never sure how much stock to put in this number.  What he knew was,
however many Russians were left, he only had 5,626 soldiers left to
beat them with.  And at least twenty percent of those were injured to
some extent.
 
            The number that numbed his brain into near catatonia was an
estimated five and a half *million* dead civilians who were either
unwilling or unable to clear the city before the battle took place. 
Certainly, some were still alive inside the rubble.  If they couldn’t
make their own way out, they were doomed, for he had no way to recover
them.  As soon as his army had rested enough for the trip, Ron led them
out of New York for the last time.  He doubted if anyone would ever
take the effort to come back here.
 
 
 
            As the army neared home, the sight of the familiar
buildings and warm surroundings gave them hope and warmed their
hearts.  They had won their first significant victory.
 
            Suddenly, out of the silence blared music.  It took just a
moment before Ron realized it was coming from his headquarters.  It
took them getting a little closer before they recognized the tune:  “We
Will Rock You”.  Ron’s face broke into a big grin as he settled onto
the parade grounds, hearing the Queen song blaring from the PA system. 
It was fitting: for once, they *had* rocked the FC back on its heels. 
They’d given better than they’d taken, and for once, the other side had
been the one to retreat.  It was good to have a victory.
 
 
 
            Ron walked proudly into his house, to be greeted by a
relieved family.  Nikki gave him a ferocious hug, but, to his surprise,
broke that off so that she could go hug Kimberly.  *Hmm.  Well, at
least I came first…*  He chuckled to himself as the rest of his family
swarmed in to greet him.
 
            Major Daniel Flanders stood at attention as Ron entered the
newly constructed command post section of the headquarters.  Ron
motioned him to sit, and he did likewise.
 
            “Okay, Major, give me your report.  Anything interesting
happen here?”
 
            “A couple of skirmishes among the civilian populace,
nothing significant in either case.”
 
            “Okay.  Anything else?”
 
            “Yes.  Michelle Donalli is missing.”
 
            “Not again…”
 
            “No sir, not missing in that sense.  She was seen leaving
the compound under her own power.  She did not tell anyone where she
was going, or when – or *if – *she would be back.”
 
            “She headed east,” said a voice, causing Ron to turn.  He
saw a medium-height man dressed all in black, with…
 
            “James!”
 
            “I see you finally got one right.  Nice job in New York.”
 
            “Are you here to join up?”
 
            “Now that there might be a shot at winning.  If you’ll
listen to me – “
 
            Ron sucker-punched him just as hard as he could.
 
            “If I’d listened to *you*, you cocksucking son of a bitch,
we’d all be dead by now, and the United States would be in Soviet
hands!”  They had already learned the intent of the Filitov Council
through captured soldiers, who had promptly died after interrogation. 
Not that it mattered much.
 
            “You don’t want to challenge me this way, Ron.”
 
            “Says *who*?” Ron challenged.
 
            “God damn it, I didn’t want to do it like this…”  James
snapped out a control hold he was sure Ron couldn’t stop.
 
            Ron sidestepped James’ hold, and lashed out with his
extension, penetrating James’ shield without much in the way of
difficulty, and sending him flying into a wall.  James impacted
harshly, busting through the drywall, and nearly coming out the other
side of the wall.
 
            James raised himself out of the rubble, and turned to face
Ron, shaking his head to clear it.  He thought to ready for another
attack, but Ron used his extension to distract him, and then lanced a
mental control into James’ mind.  James was frozen in place, unable to
move, barely able to breathe.
 
            Everyone in the room, the soldiers, and Nikki, and Kim,
were stunned at Ron’s ability to take James so easily.  Ron moved up
until he was nose-to-nose with James.  He looked him straight in the
eye, and said, “I’m stronger than I was when last we met.  I’m stronger
than you.  I’m faster than you.  If you challenge me, there are over
five *thousand* troops who’d just love to rip you a new asshole.  *Do
you understand me?*”  Ron relaxed his grip just enough to let James
talk.
 
            “Yes,” he squeaked out.
 
            “Good.  Now, are you willing to take orders from me?”
 
            “If I have to,” he choked.
 
            Ron hauled off and punched him with all his strength,
releasing his hold as he did so.  James went flying back into another
wall, making a wreck of it as well.
 
            Ron looked down at him, and James didn’t try to get up. 
“You do.  You’re a fucking coward, James.  You should have been the
*first* soldier to sign up.  Now that we’re on the winning team, you
want to share in the glory.  Well, I won’t forget who was here at the
start, and who wasn’t.”
 
            “About Michelle…” James started.
 
            “I’ve got no time to go running off looking for her again. 
She was ordered to remain here to protect the house.  Right now she’s
AWOL.  If I find her, she’s got a damned lot of explaining to do.  As
for you, I figure you’re good enough to at least warrant the rank of
Major.  *After* you’ve been trained in proper fighting technique.”
 
            Ron turned to Major Flanders.  “Get him a uniform, and get
him ready.  We’ve got things to do.”
 
            Ron walked out as the major replied, “Yes, sir!”
 
 
 
 
 
