The Ten Years - Chapter II
2016 August
Act I - The Early Days
California
They say that time waits for no man.
It's impassive. It doesn't care about what's right or wrong. Time doesn't pick sides, nor does it discriminate. It doesn't have an opinion. It doesn't hold grudges. It doesn't even have emotion. It just does it's job, which is moving on.
When we needed it most, during the early days, time wasn't on our side. The United States suffered blow after brutal blow. We weren't prepared for this type of warfare. Our defenses crumbled, and our morale followed suit. The Federation on one side. The resistant US Forces on the other side. And somewhere in between was the leftover civilian population. The man who'd lived a steady life, making a decent living for his kids, was now wondering when he would be liberated. The woman who'd done all she could so that her child could attend college now had to scavenge for books for her son. These every day people hated the Federation, but they could do nothing about it. It ate them up.
What the US Forces needed was heroes. People who were willing and able to stand up for something greater than themselves. Martyrs, who wore their allegiance like a badge of honor. The kind of person that did the necessary planning and jump-starting to get the United States back on the right track.
We had a lot of those people. I met a lot of them over the years. They have my gratitude, and my respect.
Leonid Zhaetsev understood the risks and returns involved when it came to field reconnaissance. As a young boy growing up in the Urals, Leonid had spent many hours of many days on the prowl. His grandfather had taught him the ways of the hunt. How to assess the field. How to judge distances and locations. Spotting a vulnerable prey. Setting the perfect trap. Observation. Assessment. Tactical insertion.
What separated Leonid from the traditional soldier was not his ability to gather intelligence. It was his drive. His intuition. He lived his life by a code - which was to succeed. Period. It'd kept him alive so far. He planned on staying alive for the time being.
So he walked down Main Street on the outer edges of the city. He kept his pace normal, and his hands down by his sides. He kept an easy, relaxed look on his face, and kept himself from glancing around unnecessarily. Anyone looking at him would've looked away without a second thought. He was just a man, trying to get somewhere.
Leonid walked pass building after building, going block after block, soaking in every single detail. He made mental notes of positions, distances from one object to the other. He estimated the heights of specific buildings. He counted how many Federation guards he passed by. He made mental notes of all of their equipment. The penmaster in his mind was scribbling notes down at hyper-speed. At the same time, the artist in his mind was busy painting a map of everything he'd come across so far, drawing it as close to scale as possible. And the mathematician in his mind, the one who ran the numbers, was busy calculating chances and probabilities. And Leonid kept himself as natural as any person.
Across the street from his current position was an empty park, lying alone in the midst of so many structures. Trees stood proud within the large space, giving their shadow to the ground beneath. It was filled with winding walkways and short bridges and benches. Almost like a miniature nature reserve. So Leonid stood and watched it. He appreciated the work. Somewhere along the line of history, someone had to get out there and set that up. And it'd costed someone else a lot of money. It was a shame that it was no longer used.
Perhaps it will be of use again in the future.
But it wasn't now, so Leonid decided to cross the street. He looked both ways first, even though it wasn't necessary. A habit born of a life filled with walking through cities. As he headed into the park, he dropped something in the middle of the street.
Leonid entered the park, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. It was like casting himself into a separate realm completely. Being this close, he realized just how massive the trees were. They were giants, standing guard for a natural world untouched by the events happening around it. The grass was green, and the air was perfect. For a brief moment, the artist in Leonid's mind had pulled out a snapshot of his home. But it was quickly tucked away back into it's appropriate filing cabinet.
So Leonid briefly reached up and tapped a piece of equipment in his ear. Without pausing in his stride, keeping his appearance as ordinary as possible, he spoke.
"I am finished." He said simply.
A few seconds later came the reply. "You are done? Already?" a female voice asked. "Impressive. Even for you." She said, not waiting for his reply.
"They have done a poor job of securing this part of the city."
"Ohkay. You know what step two is. Get it done."
"Hm." Leonid replied.
He reached back up and snapped off the earpiece.
"I was thinking last night." David told Logan, sitting up against the wall in their miniature housing unit. The place was as basic as any 'home' could get. There were no decorative additions at all. There was only one restroom. The floor was hard, creaking wood. Everything was down-scaled to be as cheap as possible.
"Still going on about that sudden revelation you had last week?" Logan asked, fitting on a cape for the General in his miniature toy army. Logan had painted and built every single individual soldier in all four of the toy armies he had. It'd been his hobby for a long time, and he spent a lot of time working on it. He had two of these armies spread out before him on the floor, facing each other, with one on his right, and the other on his left.
"No, not that." David shook his head softly, and then closed his eyes. "I can't remember mom's voice. I can't picture her face anymore."
Logan placed the General on the floor, in between both of the toy armies. "Think of something that stands out in your mind."
"I already did, but it ain't helping. I just remember her being nice, and sad, and regretful."
In front of him, Logan surrounded the General with several Honor Guard soldiers. "She wasn't that nice."
"You're right. To me, she wasn't nice. But she had you spoiled like hell. I couldn't do anything without you running off and telling her about it." David said with a smile on his face.
Logan laughed. "I wasn't 'telling'. I was reporting. There's a difference."
"If you say so." David told Logan. "But Megan Campbell? Now she was nice."
Logan took the time to put a unit of heavy infantry on the right flank of the General's army. Without having a secure flank, the General would fall in the battle. Without having a General, the army would be in disarray. Without having order and tact, the entire force would be crushed. Without having a force, the battle would be lost completely.
And then he said, "You mean the girl that doesn't know you exist?"
David sighed. "She was all over me, man."
They shared a laugh, reminiscing of days past. But then, there was a frantic knock at the door. Band-bang-bang. Bang-bang-bang. It was an urgent knock. One that was demanding for an answer. Both Logan and David shot up to their feet. It sounded as if there was some commotion going on outside. David walked down the short hallway to the door, and Logan followed suit, carefully stepping around his miniature battlefield.
Without asking who it was, David pulled open the door to see several Federation soldiers standing there.
"Step aside." One of them said. He was standing directly in front of David, face to face. Logan assumed he was the leader of the small group, because he'd spoken up first.
They were all fully-equipped, sporting various assault rifles, looking deadly and efficient. They were calm. Logan couldn't read the expressions on their faces. These guys were professional soldiers.
"The hell is this about?" David asked, looking at the soldier in front of him in the eye.
"We're looking for someone," he told David. They were engaged in a silent battle of wills. Staring each other down. It raged beneath the surface, like a mental war erupting between the both of them.
"What makes you think they're in here?"
"It doesn't matter what I think. The only thing that matters is what's going to happen."
"Nothing's going to happen. Not if I have something to say about it."
Logan could feel his adrenaline begin to pick up. He flexed his hands and loosened his stance. From the look of things, this wasn't going to end well. Neither David nor the Federation trooper was willing to back down.
"I don't give a damn what you have to say." The soldier told David.
"I don't give a damn what you're here for. Now get the hell out of my face."
The soldier squinted his eyes. For the longest moment ever, they stood eye to eye. It was like a wild-west showdown. A versus battle.
The Federation soldier took a step forward and raised his weapon slightly, brushing past David. "Step aside, kid. Before you get hurt." The rest of the soldiers did the same, and they forced themselves into the room, loosely aiming their weapons at both Logan and David.
Logan stepped aside, watching them as they barged in without permission. He saw the burning anger on David's face, and hoped that David wouldn't do something to get them both killed. Logan felt that same rage as well, but he knew that it wouldn't do any good to spark up a fight. The soldiers were armed, and they weren't.
The leader of them, the one that had briefly dueled David at the front door, took a slow look around the small apartment. "Spread out and search everywhere. Don't miss anything." He told them. "And if either one of those two try anything, don't hesitate to put a bullet in him."
And with that, they began scouring the cramped place. They threw things around, checking and searching with no remorse. They ransacked the entire place. They stepped over the two armies that Logan had place out on the floor. It was a quick process, altogether, but it felt like it lasted for hours.
And Logan stood beside his brother, David, and the both of them watched. They couldn't do anything but watch.
The soldier in charge was sifting around for evidence when he found a picture lying on top of the small counter in the kitchen. He studied the picture for a while.
"Who is this?" He held the picture up so that David and Logan could see it.
On the picture was a young lady, barely over 20 years of age. She had short, dark black hair that flowed about her head in waves. It was one of those pictures that you take of someone when they don't know about it. The girl on it was staring off into a beautiful sunset, sitting down on a swing. Her dark black eyes were inquisitive, as if they were lost in thought.
Both Logan and David tensed up slightly.
"Why don't you get out of here already?" David demanded, a frown on his face.
The soldier turned around. "You're right." He said. Then he looked to the rest of his squad. "Take them."
It took a brief moment for the realization to hit Logan. Everything seemed to close in around him, as if it were about to crush him. He felt something in his bones. A feeling that he rarely ever experienced. It consumed him.
"No!" David shouted, stepping forward, his hands balled into tight fists.
The soldiers all raised their weapons at them. The safeties were thumbed off. There was nothing that they could do.
One of the troopers produced two sets of handcuffs.
The Federation soldier who was in charge of the search squad for Housing Center 1-B was Ricardo Morales.
All day long, Command had been flooding the local chatterweb about some Russian guy who "Posed a significant threat" to the operations in the area. They'd locked down the entire city, completely. The streets were bare, with the only people on it being Federation troops. A frantic, foolish hunt for the person had been persisting throughout the length of the day, and they had yet to find the guy. Ricardo was pissed off at it. He'd been searching for this suspected 'threat' all day long.
His CO was demanding results, however. So Ricardo had to bring in something for him. Anything, really. He hated that fact, but his CO was a hard-ass who'd spent his entire career shouting orders and kissing ass for promotions. In turn, the guy didn't tolerate failure too well.
So Ricardo had ordered his squad to seize the two young guys that they'd come across. He knew for a fact that they had no idea where the Russian was, but he needed to bring someone in before the day was over. It was unfortunate for those two. But the older one had pissed him off anyway. The damn kid hadn't known when to shut up.
His COM piece came to life.
"Morales, have you found anything?" The Dispatcher asked.
Ricardo looked around the apartment briefly.
"I have two that I am bringing in. We're finished with our scan of 1-B." Ricardo reported.
"Very good. Bring it in for the night. We'll see what tomorrow brings."
And with that, the Dispatcher was gone. Ricardo turned off the earpiece built into his helmet, and then looked back down at the picture in his hand.
The girl in it look faintly familiar. As if he'd seen her in passing at some point in his life. Or if she'd been in some weird dream that he'd had a long time ago. He couldn't piece it together. It was bugging him. But he couldn't put his finger on why it bugged him so much.
A Federation soldier appeared in the doorway, and Ricardo quickly slid the picture into a pouch on his belt. "Sir, we're all set for exfil."
"Ohkay. I'm on my way down."
The young soldier nodded quickly and then briskly walked away.
Ricardo pulled his helmet off, wrapping his head in the cool air of the room, running his gloved hand through his short hair. He walked to the door, carrying his helmet in his hands, with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He paused for a moment. And then he blinked two times. And after that, he stepped out of the room, shut the door, and headed downstairs to the waiting transport.
As he headed down the long hall, he strangely felt as if he was trespassing on owned territory. The Federation was in control of this city, but it didn't sit well with him to be invading these people's distributed 'homes'. It wasn't that he felt regret about doing it. But he was a soldier, and he fought wars. He should be out on the frontlines, fighting against the American soldiers. Not sitting on his ass everyday, overseeing a bunch of civilians who had nothing to do with it. Being a soldier was his life. It was what he knew - what he understood. It wasn't that he enjoyed it. It was more of a sense of belonging. Like he belonged in the battle. When he wasn'tin the mix of a war, his life felt like it was out of place.
Ricardo had tried the normal life out when he was a kid. But growing up in a school filled with bullies had built him into something that he wasn't proud of.
His mom had been single and struggling. To this day, Ricardo still remembered each individual expression she'd get on her face whenever she received bad news about something. His thoughts traveled back to when he spent nights watching TV with her, sometimes feeling good, and sometimes not feeling good.
But now, he was a soldier. He was living the life he'd been set into. Playing the cards that he'd been dealt. So as they arrived at the Troop Area, Ricardo slid his helmet back on, and hopped out the back of the armored truck. Guard troops were stationed all around the area, on high alert because of the Russian. There weren't that many troops out though, because it was night time, and because they had to get rest, like any other human being. But the CO didn't rest. He never rested.
His job was to do his job. He would rest when he got to Hell.
So Ricardo headed to the Lieutenant's Quarters, while the rest of his squad headed to the Barracks building. The LQ was actually a small, cleaned out gas station that the Federation was using until things settled down more. It was rag-tag at best, but it would serve it's purposes. Ricardo headed to the back area of it, where the CO sat behind his desk, a pen scribbling away at a page filled with words.
The CO looked up as Ricardo walked in. "I have some news, Sergeant. Some news that you might appreciate." Lt. Rodriguez told him. "We've gotten word of a small unit of American troops nearby. They're platoon-sized, and lightly armed. We're thinking that this maybe a reconnaissance patrol. If our estimates are correct, then these troops are all veterans of the opening skirmishes in Los Angeles and San Diego. They're skilled, either way." Rodriguez said.
"Sounds a little strange, sir. You sure that it's just a platoon-sized force?"
"Your job is not to question, Ricardo. We are at war. We do what we must." The Lieutenant told him. "You will assemble a strike team, and then move out at 0930 tomorrow morning." The CO said, looking Ricardo directly in the eyes. "You will find this enemy, and you will destroy them."
"I apologize if I spoke out of turn, sir. But it seems strange to me that they would send a patrol near here. They know we have this area under control. What do they need to recon? There's no need for them to risk lives for a patrol that won't give them any new information. It just sounds like bait, Lieutenant." Ricardo said.
"Is that all, Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You will eliminate this threat. End of story. Are we clear?"
"It will be done, sir."