Chapter 25 Subterfuge

Task Force LA Command Centre, Rear Area, LA

General Daily introduced the Reserve captain to the rest of his team as soon as they returned to his headquarters. She'd be an intelligence consultant working with his strategic planning group, he explained. They'd talked little on the ride over, the reporter seeming reserved until asked a direct question. The other members of his team gave the reporter a warm reception and readily accepted her which surprised the woman after her somewhat acrimonious relationship previously. Blatchford thought she'd not only have a chance to finally contribute to war effort but enjoy it as well.

"Okay, so what's your plan?" Daily asked getting down to business.

"Simple. We play a little role reversal," Blatchford responded with confidence, believing she'd be respected. "We use their information against them. Spring an ambush on their ambush. Not only will that protect our troops but it'll get the squids looking over their shoulders." She adjusted her glasses then a hard look came over her face. "We get them on their heels and then slaughter every SOB that comes into the kill zone."

Daily was impressed by the plan but surprised by the ferocity of the meek-looking Army Reserve officer. It appeared the reporter turned intelligence officer had a hard streak to her. "What kind of reporting do you do, captain?" he asked.

"Criminal investigation, sir."

"You like it?"

Yea, I do. I get a chance to expose criminal scumbags for what they are. Of course the liberals scream a lot that I don't understand their circumstances. That's a lot of crap. I know everyone has a story but everyone also has a choice. I write about the bad choices people make."

"I bet you're pretty good at it."

She shrugged her shoulders non-chalantly. "I got a wall full of awards so some would say so. That doesn't really motivate me though." The woman paused for a moment as if processing information or sizing up the general. "And this? This situation is simple. Kill or be killed so we sure as hell better be the ones doing the killing." Seeing she'd made her point, Blatchford began to realize the impact of the chance she'd been given. Thanks for listening to me general. I appreciate it a lot, more then you an imagine. That idiot major wouldn't get his head out of his arse long enough to figure some of this stuff out. If he checked his ego at the door he'd be a pretty good J2."

Daily was amused by the frank, yet accurate, assessment given by the reporter. This one seemed dangerous, exactly what he needed on his staff. "So what motivates you Captain Blatchford?"

"Justice. Seeing the right thing done."

"But this situation seems a bit different," the general pressed, "it seems a bit personal for you."

"It is." For the first time the granite-faced woman bent slightly. Her lip quivered a bit as she spoke, "I lost my only aunt and uncle in the first assault on Santa Monica. They practically raised me when my parents split up. Plus a whole bunch of my friends have gotten killed and the old neighborhood I grew up in as a kid got levelled. It is personal with me general and I'm looking for payback."

"Make sense, captain," General Daily nodded his head in agreement. "We all have strong reasons for wanting to win this fight. I think you're going to be a great addition to my team." The commander turned to one of his aides standing nearby. "Get me Col. Ritchie at 2nd Battalion. I have a new mission for him I think he'll like."

Somewhere in Pasadena

The entire 2nd Battalion had mobilized along with several armored squadrons. They'd received information from command about several alien ambushes that were being planned. They were to set up counter-ambushes, so moved into position ahead of time then waited for the aliens to come in themselves. Once set, other units would then move in as bait. Three potential target areas had been set up. The attacking Marines took up their positions the previous night under the cover of darkness and their observers who'd act as fire controllers set in place.

The tech guys had been working to change the frequency and method the Marine's radios broadcast so that the alien's could not only be unable to home in on them but not even pick up the signals. A team of experts, made up of some of the best minds in the country, had been working on it for over a month. An MIT professor thought he had it figured out. This was going to be the first real test, theory entering into practice in real time.

For this scheme to work the humans would not only need clear radio communications but also it had to be undetected by the aliens or things would turn ugly real fast.

Imlay and Lockett lay hidden on the top floor of a heavily damaged building sweeping the area with binoculars. They were on more then overwatch, they were the observers in the ambush area that had been set up. They'd be the ones to bring the rain.

"Man, I hope this isn't a wild goose chase," Lockett thought out loud, trying to chase away the boredom. The sun had come up an hour earlier. The two Marines had spent an uncomfortable night in the hidden position and it was beginning to seem like nothing would happen.

"I know what you mean," Imlay agreed, shifting yet again to try to get comfortable. He felt his shoulder muscles cramping up from laying in the confined space.

"I never thought I'd be doing something like this. I mean Afghanistan makes sense, I signed up for that. But this? It's crazy, like some kind of nightmare. Aliens? That's just nuts," Lockett mused.

"I know what you mean. Its like something out of a movie. I thought the fight might some day come here but not like this. Now we're fighting for America, fighting for our homes and our loved ones," Imlay responded passionately.

"You sound like Lt. Martinez."

"Yea, maybe I do. He was all right, for an officer anyway."

"He was," Lockett agreed. "Gordon's pretty good too. But I wonder how Lt. Martinez's wife's doing? Man, that's got to be tough. I hope she's okay. Its times like this I'm glad I'm single."

"Staffs went to visit her after we got back," Imlay reported. "He had a letter for her from the L.T. Apparently he also made sure through the colonel that she got a new home and was looked after"

"He did that? Wow. I didn't know. The guy just keeps on surprising me."

"I wonder how he's doing."

"Better then us," Lockett snorted.

"I'm not sure about that," Imlay mused reflectively. "He doesn't seem like the guy who'd be into all that attention."

"Yea, probably drives him crazy. Plus there's all that crap about him and his ex in the media."

"You don't think its true? I sure hope not anyway."

"Naw, that's not his style. He's totally old school," Lockett declared. One-woman man and he's sweet on Michele."

Movement to their left caught their eye.

"See that? At eleven o'clock?" Imlay pointed out.

"Yea, looks like a pair of infantry type squids," Lockett answered.

The two aliens moved cautiously into the apartment complex parking lot and looked around carefully.

Imlay thumbed his radio switch. "Two Tangos entering target zone," he reported.

The two Marines held their breath. So far the advancing aliens didn't seem aware the pair had eyes on them.

"Wait out, they're likely scouts," came the response from Lt. Gordon.

The aliens looked around the parking lot strewn with vehicles. They seemed to be sweeping back and forth, casing the place. Apparently satisfied, more aliens entered in, lots of them. The horizon filled with them marching into the area in tight columns.

Imlay picked out not only officer caste by intelligence caste aliens. They'd hit the jackpot. "More Tangos inbound, I'd estimate at least two companies worth."

"Excellent," Gordon replied, the excitement in his voice obvious. "Hold position and prepare to lase target on my order."

A-10's and Apaches were on station waiting for the order to strike. It would be a spectacular show for the pair of observers. 2nd Battalion would then move in and mop up the area.

"All right boys, switch to tactical net now and lase target on their command. We're about to go loud," Gordon ordered.

"Roger that, switching now." Imlay adjusted his radio to tap into the battalion tactical network. "Juggernaught Actual this is Survey 1. We are in positions and preparing to lase Kill Box Alpha on your command."

"Survey 1, this is Juggernaught Actual, confirm, lase target now, Hammer Flight is in-bound ETA two minutes. Hammer Flight, you are weapons free, target will be lased at Kill Box Alpha."

The aliens continued to march steadily forward, now with the bulk in the parking lot unaware of the destruction that was about to rain down upon them. The sound of roaring jet engines and the furious chop-chop of accelerating helicopters caught them by surprise. The aliens froze, not expecting this development, uncertain what to do.

They waited too long.

Knowing exactly where to hit because they'd be laser-targetted in, four A-10 Thunderbolts seemed to pop above the trees and swooped in on the unmoving column.

They open fired with their 30mm Avenger gatling guns. The large depleted uranium slugs tore up everything in their wake, cutting huge swaths in the tightly packed alien ranks. To add insult to injury, each plane loosed two AGM-65 Maverick missiles that slammed in right behind creating a cauldron of fire in their wake.

The remaining aliens tried to scramble for cover as the planes winged up and around for another pass but six Apache gunships rose up from different positions to box them in then add their own destruction to the menu. Using their full inventory of weapons to deadly results, cars flew in the air from the force of explosions, crushing aliens, concrete and asphalt richocheted around filling the air with destructive shrapnel.

The Apaches pulled back just as the A-10's came in for another pass. Ordinance expended, they peeled off and another flight of four took its place. All the while, the Apaches would pop in and out, stinging like a swarm of angry wasps. It was an altogether vicious and effective attack. The co-ordinated dance of destruction would go on and on until none moved or even stood.

On the ground, the display of deadly firepower was horrifically spectacular. Explosions filled the sky and the ground shook. The aliens had been caught totally flatfooted and were being ground up in the fury. Watching the incredible spectacle as if from ringside, Lockett and Imlay almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Refugee Encampment and Military Command Los Angeles rear area, somewhere outside LA

Father Alexander had a spring in his step as he walked towards the hospital complex. He'd received word from Mike that he'd be back in the area the next day. The situation in the media had seemed to die down and the fickle group had moved on to another novelty story, this time a story about a quaterback named Tebow. The priest continued to find it ironic that professional sports continued despite everything going on in America. The NFL, NHL and now even the NBA, who'd finished their strike and resumed play, were carrying on like nothing was going on. Of course all the leagues were doing it without teams from Los Angeles and the other cities under siege but still, they carried on. Sure there were heated arguments on boths side. Some contended that to play showed a disrespect for the loss of life and continued threat, trivializing the suffering going on versus another that countered to carry on showed resolve, showed the American spirit could not be beaten, that a return to normalcy was the best way to deal with the horror of war. Sports became a distraction and that, and the economic reality of the games, carried the day.

God works in mysterious ways.

The priest contemplated the thought as he walked down the now paved road towards the growing structure. He remembered when the temporary encampment had been built. A small infirmary had given way to a larger hospital and already a third wing was being built. The main road had been paved and others would be shortly.

Was this a return to normalcy or a concession to reality? How soon would they be able to return home and what would that look like? There was coping with reality but then there was settling for something that would suck the spirit away. Which was this? He thought back to the aftermath of 9-11 and how people had returned to 'normal', as if nothing had happened so very quickly. Churches had filled with people looking for God and then emptied just as quickly. Would this be the same? Would the people miss this opportunity to learn and grow, to self-examine, or would the balm of entertainment and consumption distract them again? I've certainly become a philosopher, the priest thought to himself.

Today he had good news for Michele so all the thoughts that swirled through his head were pushed out.

Entering the hospital, Father Alexander found out she was on a break and had gone to a newly-built coffee shop nearby. This seemed odd to him since she tended to eat outside and alone. He put the thought out of his mind and walked over to it. Arriving at the busy establishment he had to push his way in since a large crowd had gathered there to enjoy what it had to offer. He scanned the crowd looking for Michele happy for the chance to bring good news for a change.

The smile fell off his face like a brick when he saw her. The woman sat at a table, engrossed in conversation with a man he recognized as a doctor from the hospital. The thing that got him though was the handsome surgeon held her hand stroking it lightly and she let him. His pulse quickened. He didn't know what to do. Saying a quick prayer he knew he had to deliver his message. The rest was in God's hands.

Walking purposefully over to their table the priest saw that Michele noticed him. Turning slightly red the woman avoided his gaze, pulling her hand away.

As the priest reached the table Michele stammered, "Father Alexander, I didn't expect to see you."

"No I suspect you didn't," he responded coldly. He paused and took a breath, trying to control his rising anger. "I wanted you to know that Michael will be back on base tomorrow. His tour is over and he'd like to speak to you. There's been some misunderstandings," he looked at the pair who sat close together, side by side, "it seems about a number of things. Anyway, I wanted you to know."

The priest turned and walked away, surprised at the strength of his emotions towards the scene and wanting nothing more then to get away.

"Father Alexander wait, please!" Michele called out but he'd already disappeared in the crowded coffee. She tried to get up but Dr. Chevreau grabbed her hand anew.

"Let him go," he instructed her, "why spoil a pleasant time?"

Somewhere in Pasadena

The 2nd Battalion Marines and their armor support charged into the wake of destruction, mopping up the stunned aliens. The opportunity for payback after several weeks of struggle drove the soldiers on and the results were decisive. The aliens were routed completely with heavy casualties. The humans suffered a few men wounded and only one killed. Unfortunately that one was the new sergeant in Lt. Gordon's platoon. He'd been killed accidentally when a building damaged in the attack collapsed on him. Soon people would begin to whisper that the platoon sergeant's role in that particular group was jinxed, others would say it was cursed. But that didn't impact this day as the soldiers celebrated their total victory. Confidence in headquarters had been re-established.