Another such patch-this time on a slender brunette wearing Sergeant’s stripes-displayed a hand in a fist inside an armored glove: the calling card of William Rheimmer’s 3 ^ rd Armored Division of New Jersey.
The men and women shouted among each other, hurried the hall with important papers tucked under arms, or searched through boxes to find one need or another. Many sported trophies from the withdrawal across Kansas: slings, bandages, limps, bruises, and eye patches.
Shepherd shook his head in silent tribute to the marks of sacrifice, but then forced those thoughts from his mind as he walked inside what had once been a clothing store for children named ‘Abercrombie’. There Shepherd found a large round table in the center of the store, maps on the walls, and a gathering of important personnel. He finished his return trip from the restroom just in time to hear Jon Brewer tell the assembled crowd, “Any minute now.”
“Everything is still a go?” Shepherd came to the table and glanced-for about the one hundredth time that day-at the map of Missouri and Kansas.
“I just got off the radio with Carl Dunston. 2 ^ nd Tactical support’s fixed wing assets are in the air and joining up with the rest,” Jon answered and then took a sip from a glass of water.
“Not much left of them,” Shepherd said in reference to both the 2 ^ nd Tactical Support unit as well as the overall amount of air assets at The Empire’s disposal. He tapped the map in a spot northeast of Kansas City. “Still no idea how they built up so fast?”
Jon ran a hand across the back of his neck because that particular mystery remained a large pain there.
Shep shared that pain. He recalled the Blackbird’s surveillance photos depicting a massive amount of Voggoth’s bio-mechanical weapons in place and ready to fight. Many more-tens of thousands more-than thought possible. Enough to sweep across the Mississippi in one afternoon.
Jon said, “An idea? Yeah, I have an idea,” Brewer said and that caught Shep’s attention. “I was chewing it over during my flight out here last night. I’m thinking it’s one of two things: either The Order’s production cycle out of their farms has been sped up by ninety percent or-or…”
“Or?”
“Or-well, we’ve been asking ourselves for a couple of years now what happened to Voggoth’s boys in cities like Cincinnati.”
“When they just disappeared before we hit those cities, is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yep.”
Shep followed along, “So you reckon he yanked them out of those places in the past and is bringing them back now. Sort of like all those people before the invasion disappearing and then showing up again years later. Like Ashley.”
“I’d be lying if I said I knew for sure, but I have got to believe that Voggoth pulled these reinforcements from somewhere without using the typical type of transport we would expect. And I think finding that same radiation signature in those cities is a big clue.”
“Why not just drop em’ in behind our lines then? Like paratroopers or whatnot?”
“Why bother?” Jon thought. “He brings them in as reinforcements with the rest of his group and they make one big kick-ass army. If he drops them behind us maybe we manage to isolate them, split them up. I would bet he’d go for the easy way. The sure way.”
“Wait a sec,” Shepherd pointed out, “those things in the cities that disappeared were more like Mutants and Deadheads and bad things like that; not his core army.”
Jon cocked his head as that particular wrench bounced around in the works of his idea.
“Well, I guess you have a point there. Sometimes I sort of throw all of those things in with The Order as a whole. I guess there is a difference. His army he sort of grows or builds or whatever when he needs it. The rest of them kind of came here on their own it seems, like the other aliens but aligned with Voggoth. Still, all these reinforcements came from somewhere. Maybe somewhere else in the world? But you know what; I think this is the type of thing that Trevor was talking about. Every time Voggoth works his magic he risks, well, getting himself into trouble with the rest of the head honchos. If we can force him to keep pulling stunts like this then maybe that’s a break in those rules Trevor was talking about.”
“And you think that might get old Voggoth in trouble? That’d be a shame.”
“Only if he gets caught red-handed, I figure. If the rest of his pals are even capable of catching him. Trevor would know better. Damn. I wish he were here.”
Silence.
Shep fought the urge to tell Jon again how sorry he felt about Lori. About how he wished he could have traveled back east to be at the funeral. About how much he would miss that little pistol of a lady.
Instead he said, “Either way, I guess your little plan had better work.”
“It’s going to cost us,” Jon admitted. “It’s going to cost us big time. This is a one-shot, Shep. No matter how well we play this we’re going to take heavy losses.”
“So let’s hope he can’t pull any more reinforcements out of his magic bag, right?”
Jon swept a hand across the map noting, “He doesn’t need to. Hell, so far he’s used his main forces to fight us but he’s got all those other buddies of his spread out across the Midwest. He’s got hundreds of Roachbots in Kansas, a whole mess of Wraiths stirring up trouble in Iowa; I even saw a report of like ten thousand of those Ghoul-things tearing up shit in Oklahoma. Not to mention the rest.”
Shepherd knew what ‘the rest’ meant. It meant the other alien races coming together to support Voggoth’s attack. It meant the Geryons moving in from the north, the Centurians marching up from the south, and the Chaktaw somewhere to the west no doubt hurrying to join the battle.
“They on the move?”
Brewer answered, “Yeah. Intel this morning spotted the Geryon air ships leaving their moorings in Des Moines and the Redcoats breaking camp at Little Rock.”
Shep removed his hat and ran an arm across his sweaty forehead.
“That’s as sure a sign that this thing is coming to a head soon as anything else. If Trevor’s right, that is. Guess those other folks want to make it to the party on time.”
“Sure,” Jon agreed. “But if we can hit Voggoth hard enough he’ll postpone his attack on the Mississippi. If he does that, I’m guessing those others will back off and wait. If Trevor is right and all.”
“Be nice if we could hit them Geryons or the Reds first. You know, break the whole thing into pieces. I reckon that would improve our odds.”
Brewer smiled-a little-and flattered Shep with, “I ‘ reckon you’d be right. But I don’t think we’ve got the mobility or the firepower to do it. Not with ground forces, at least.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Shepherd admitted. “Still, it’d be nice to play out Five Armies again, just like the old days. That worked out in our favor.”
“Never thought I’d see worse odds. Guess I didn’t know shit, right? But you’ve been running the show out here for a few weeks, Shep. Give me the lay of the land again.”
Shep leaned over the table and pointed to different segments of the map while he updated Jon on the defensive preparations made while Jon had mourned his dead wife.
“Duda’s got all of his 1 ^ st Mech boys around St. Louis: 4 ^ th Brigade is dug in the city in the worst kind of way, his 6 ^ th Mobile Artillery is positioned at the Lockhaven Country Club to the northeast of the city and can move to follow the enemy’s approach when the time comes.”
“What about his 5 ^ th Brigade?”
“They got sent all the way back to Springfield for re-supply and re-tool. Not much of those poor bastards left. I don’t think they’re going make it to the party.”
Jon mumbled, “Strip what you can.”
Shepherd went on, “Rheimmer’s 3 ^ rd Armored is backing up St. Louis. 10 ^ th and 12 ^ th Armored Brigades are exactly where you wanted them: over on this side of the river waiting around as a mobile reserve. By the way, Rheimmer rolled what was left of his 11 ^ th brigade in with the 12 ^ th, in case you’re wondering where they headed to.”