Disclaimer: I do not own digimon or its associated products. They are reserved corporate property. This is not a work for profit.
Glossary: BDU: Battle Dress Uniform, standard military combat dress
NORAD: North American Aerospace Defence
Episode XLIV
The Line
Victory belongs to the most persevering.
--Napoleon Bonaparte--
Never give in--never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
--Winston Churchill—
Izzy flipped back over the figures one more time. The interference fields may have managed to jam most on-site reconnaisance, but there was still the possibility of satellite photos, obtained by one very angry Colonel Winters shouting at one of the satellite transmission bases in southern California. Unfortunately with the National Reconaissance Office in Washington DC out of commission, and NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain not responding to any queries, it had taken nearly forever to find the photographs. But they showed an unwelcome truth.
Hundreds of thousands, millions? Izzy asked rhetorically. How many of them are there?
We were hoping you could tell us. Winters replied. We're going to need all the information we can get.
Any word on the European attack? Izzy asked again.
Not really, not unless you mean bad news. The French have already reported that in their first engagement they lost almost fifty percent of their armed forces that they could call in. Meanwhile we got word that the National Guard and the regular army units from around the US are beginning to assemble, but at best it's going to take us two or three days just to march to New York from the place where our transports start messing up and failing. You can't even use a car within a hundred miles of the city the interference is so bad. Colonel Winters snorted and hammered against the fuselage of his multi-million dollar fighter, sitting uselessly on a runway.
Something still doesn't add up. If they could crush us this easily, why didn't they attack sooner? Izzy asked himself.
TK walked back into the command room at Versailles and immediately the entire atmosphere of the room changed. He was confident again, radiating his silent skill and ability to the others in the building. Every step he took was a mark of his patience, and it restored heart to those standing around the maps on the table.
All right people, we have a new plan. TK stood up at the front of the table with Generals Alexander and Sergev behind him, Yuri, Sonja and Anna sneaking in to sit on one side. First, I tell Kari to continue trying to slow them down, but perhaps with less dangerous means. Block the roads, divert irrigation canals, that sort of thing. Next, we have some company. General Sergev has graciously agreed to put his soldiers, the 21st Russian Airborne guards, to see to our needs and assist us in any way possible. So, I want to use our digimon right now mostly as pack animals. Our reports indicate that if you get a car not attached to a digidestined within about two hundred fifty kilometers of that horde, it shuts down. Somehow they are interfering with mechanical devices as well as electrical ones. That means that the only things that we can use out there are bicycles, horses and digimon, and guess who can carry the most gear.
Now, currently it looks like this. They're skirting Dijon and its immediate surroundings rather carefully, but they are about halfway between Dijon and Bourges, which puts them about here. I want to go out with the Russian units, hopefully to erect mortar batteries all up and down the most rugged hills. With our mobility we can move a firebase before they manage to figure out where it is. It seems that, from what we've heard from America, that basic artillery still works, as long as you don't need the electronics. So, we move around in the hills there, and try and slow them down.
Next, Cody will begin to train fast running digidestined. We've received almost three hundred IDEF personnel so far since the skirmish, and more are expected at any moment. As long as they are in bad terrain we have the opportunity to hit them without them hitting us, but once they get out on the plains south of Paris, we're going to have to bleed to stop them. So I want to be ready for that, understood?
Yes sir! Yuri snapped off a salute, grinned at the expression on TK's face, and then leaned over the maps to familiarize himself with them.
Was it a good plan? TK asked out of the side of his mouth.
I think it'll work. General Sergev responded with a smile. By the way, if you ever find yourself needing work, the Russian Army is always looking for potential officers of your caliber.
Hands off! Alexander snapped with mock anger. We saw him first.
Tai jerked awake for the third time, but there was nothing there. Nothing except for the crackle of fire in the pit in front of him. In his mind there was still the sound of burning bodies, of screaming, of gunfire random and undirected, of the constant taste of fear in his mouth and the weight of terror in his stomach. But here it was quiet. Matt and Gabumon, both exhausted, were curled around each other nearby, both looking tattered and worn. Mimi was lying unconscious on the remains of a mattress she had dredged up from somewhere, Palmon by her side. Gomamon was lying on the pair of pillows that Joe had dredged up, but Joe himself was nowhere to be seen. Standing over them was a soldier, dark haired and unshaven, with a bit of blood on his BDU sleeve, but holding his M16 competently in one hand. He, at least, looked awake. There were half a dozen other soldiers in various states of wakefulness around them, and Tai could see another group of sentries surrounding Team Eagle's sleeping place. They were not resting together, preventing them from becoming too much of a target and General Hayes had recognized their usefulness, assigning guards to protect them.
In their turn the soldiers had almost an awestruck approach toward the boys and girls and their powerful monsters who had held off the enemy for so long. The constant battle prowess of the digimon, coupled with the courage and determination of the children who had accompanied them to war had won the respect of the hard-bitten troopers. They weren't going to let anyone through to harm the children, even if they had to shed their own blood to protect the kids.
What time is it? Tai asked in his slow, careful English.
The soldier shrugged, instantly reminding Tai that no watches would be working, and then he glanced at the stars overhead. About eight in the evening I think.
Tai blinked, suddenly realizing that is was indeed nighttime. His eyes widened involuntarily. You mean that I've been asleep for...
Most of the day. About ten hours, I think. Pretty common for the front line soldiers. It's been quiet. After their initial push, they decided to wait for a bit. We haven't seen hide nor hair of them all day. The soldier turned back to look in his assigned direction. Tai glanced down at the sleeping Agumon and then levered himself up. He was awake now, no longer tired, but he was ravenously hungry. Quietly, so as not to wake the others, he levered himself up and wandered off toward the smell of food.
Dinner was a huge savory hash. They had nearly unlimited ingredients, thanks in part to the field kitchens scrounging from every store they could find. The cooks had managed to combine everything into an edible mess that actually tasted quite good. Tai walked up to the counter, grabbed a metal tray like some of the other soldiers, and walked through, receiving a generous dollop on his plate. He received some odd looks too, but apparently enough kids had been through that the cooks were not asking questions anymore, indeed if they ever had been.
Hey Tai, over here! Tai caught a glimpse of a familiar blue-haired boy in the crowd and went over and sat down next to Joe, who was halfway through his plate already.
Where've you been? Tai asked Joe, beginning to shovel his own food into his mouth.
Oh, here and there. Joe confessed with a smile. How about you? Gone anyplace interesting?
I just woke up. How do you handle this? Tai yawned again.
Joe shrugged. Remember, I volunteer in the hospital. If there's been an accident on the bridges or a big fire or anything like that they drag in everyone they can get. I've been helping the field surgeons set up and get to work on the wounded for an hour or two now. Huh, funny really. It's what I do best, but it looks like fighting is my job.
How bad is it? Tai asked.
Well, it's better than it could be. Since the evacuation we've had a handful of hospitals that we're using for the big equipment, but we need electricity to actually do our job. We've found a way of rigging up storage batteries that seems to work, but it's taking too much time. Mostly we're just cutting people apart and hoping that we can put them back together again.
Tai blanched at that.
Well, it's going to get worse. We keep going like this; we're going to run out of painkiller before the day is over. Joe reported grimly.
Hey guys. Willis sat wearily next to them, drooping.
You need some sleep. Joe pointed out critically.
I just had a five hour nap. Willis shook his head. I wanted to get some food in me before I go back to drowsing under the shade of some bushes somewhere. I would kill for a hot shower right now.
So, what's the news? Joe asked, sawing a chunk of potato in half.
Well, every hour they delay helps us. We've got the remainder of the National Guard still on the other side of the river coming over to lend us a hand. We've got the volunteers from the NYPD forming up to provide us with some backup. We've even got some artillery support, and of course resting aids our digimon. The problem is, of course, that even rested, we're still outnumbered and outgunned by a lot. So the new plan is going to be tough.
What's the new plan? Tai asked cautiously.
Willis paused for a moment. America is very unique Tai. It doesn't have ancient capitals and places of historical import. All it has is modern compared to the cities of Europe and Japan. The symbol of America has always been New York city, the skyline, the lights, the Statue of Liberty, all of that. It's been a battered symbol at times, but it still lies at the heart of this country. Hayes knows that the army is gathering outside of the interference barrier, that any further attacks will be met in force, and that the loss of New York will not effect their plans. So he's decided to hold. From now on we hold every inch of ground, and we make them bleed for every yard they try to take. If the situation becomes critical, he ordered the digidestined to run for it, but he and his men are going to stand and die with this city.
Is that wise? Tai asked, ignoring Joe's gaping open mouth.
I don't know. But I know that it's right. Willis replied calmly, too calmly, and with a shaking hand. We have to stand somewhere.
Then we stand here. We've drawn a line on the earth, and now we're going to hold it. Tai stated firmly, and grinned.
Ken hung onto ImperialDramon with his knees as the massive Mega executed a sharp right hand turn. They had almost finished the first part, even without Izzy. Every team from the Western Hemisphere was on its way to the new rendezvous point just outside of the New York area, with Izzy and the others. Then they would start moving every Eastern digidestined to support Paris, where TK had tersely reported contact with the enemy. Ken just huddled down and prayed for more speed.
Fire mission! General Alexander called. He was feeling great for the first time in a long time. He had not led a field mission since he was a Lieutenant, and here he was, shirt sleeves rolled up, down in the dirt of the French countryside with a bunch of kids, watching the biggest, ugliest army since the Third Reich roll over the ground, and talking into a fluorescent plastic device held by a girl who did not even speak his language. He had not had so much fun in years.
The Russian company commander sounded likewise thrilled on the other end. He was finally getting to shoot something with those big telephone poles that he carried around all the time. The firing computers were out, of course, and half the delicate mechanics did not work, but the Russians were good troops. Six pages of scratch paper, three slide rules, a protractor, a box of wrenches, a compass, and five sets of topographical maps later they had manually, through a great deal of yanking, grabbing and manhandling, managed to point their guns in the right direction.
From behind came the unmistakable thunder of heavy artillery speaking out. The mechanics on the guns might not work right anymore, but gunpowder appeared to be just as explosive, and, with a roar that was distant enough to sound like thunder, the entire reserve artillery brigade fired as one. There were a few moments of quiet, and some confusion down below as the digimon milled around uncertainly after hearing the first noise, and then there was a whine, and the sound of all hell breaking loose.
What had been a real surprise was that General Sergev had managed to cram a hundred extra 152mm artillery pieces into those planes, along with enough ammunition to keep them going for a long time. Now the first hundred shells from the reserve battery came screaming in overhead. The valley erupted, as if a hundred different volcanoes had decided to erupt at the same time. Despite all the effort that the Russians had put into it, they were shooting a little high, but the enemy was so spread out that they covered near the entire valley and the explosions impacted on the south side, sending digimon flying, injured or disappearing in showers of data. Mass confusion broke out in the ranks as the first salvo slammed home, the noise frightening the digimon as much as the power.
Drop fifty meters and fire again. Alexander spoke into the D3 held in front of him.
Several kilometers away his voice emerged from TK's D3, and the Russian captain turned and yelled at his crew in Russian. Immediately men sprang into action, branidishing wrenches, prybars and hammers among other tools. It took thirty seconds to drop the barrels another notch or so as the gears inside were turned manually. Then another salvo roared out, loud even through TK's ear protection.
Even though most of the opposing forces had not even seen each other, the third battle of Versailles had begun.
The first attack kicked off about midnight. The first indication for the digidestined was the sudden ripple of gunfire from the front lines, and the glowing light of flares thrown up into the air. A moment later came the screams.
Team Eagle was closer and faster this time. Frigimon and Steve reached the lines first and began striking out at whatever was coming over as fast as they could. Tortomon's Strong Carapace rained destruction down on what was on the other side. By the time Willis and the others arrived, there was a distinct lack of targets. The gunfire died out, just as the reserve company moved into position. Suddenly, an awful and portentous calm fell over the front line, people looking at each other nervously in the disappearance of noise from the battle.
What the hell? Willis murmured as the light from the flares revealed a dozen rookie digimon retreating into the darkness.
Then the screams began elsewhere.
Is it going to mean anything Izzy? Lanis asked. Michael's cousin was drooping, the long flight apparently not having agreed with her. The older woman had just arrived, her Gulfstream-V winging in carrying the LA Thunderbirds and all their supporting teams, but she looked tired, and the steady weight of despair had begun to crush down on the digidestined assembled there. Even as Ken began to drop off some of the last IDEF drops, the situation had not brightened one bit. There were now close to four thousand digidestined sitting around the airport runways, their digimon and them frantically engaged in games or last minute preparations. Out of one corner of their eyes they all took peeks in the direction of New York, but nothing there ever changed.
I'm missing something. Izzy muttered.
What was that? Mina, still wearing the traditional garb of India from when Izzy had met her the first time, came up from behind, Meramon stalking patiently behind her.
Something's missing. Look at this. Even at our best we have only five thousand or so digidestined here, and maybe two hundred already in New York. With the reserves that we've had to shuffle off to Paris already, it's not that much. How many digimon do they have in there? Millions? There's nothing that we can do about it.
What's your point? Colonel Winters asked, coming up from behind. They outnumber us by too high a margin. Even if we hold New York for a day or two, they'll overwhelm us. And then they're going to sweep across the Eastern Seaboard. We'll do our best to stop them, but our army depends too much on technology. Without it we're really no match for them.
So why now? Izzy asked.
What do you mean? Ramon of the LA Thunderbirds wrinkled his brow in frustration. What do you mean now?
I mean that we were there when Khartan came to this world. Why did it take him weeks to mount this attack? It seems obvious that his digimon can move freely through the uninhabited portions of the world. Yet he spent weeks trying to discredit digimon completely, drive the digidestined underground. He wasted time trying to lure us out and destroy us. So, I was wondering, why?
Maybe he just hates us. Mina responded.
I don't think that's it. He's not as stupid as some digimon we've fought. But we simply don't have the numbers to fight him. So why did he spend so much time trying to fight us? Izzy stared at the floor. Something that Gennai had said was bothering him. Something about how the digidestined could be the key to victory. And then it clicked.
The digidestined. Not the digimon, the digidestined.
The idea started out as a small suspicion, but suddenly it expanded like an explosion. Every neuron in his brain must have fired at once, lines of thought racing in a dozen different directions, but all converging to one simple, inescapable truth. The world was awash with the sea of his thoughts, but there was a big island in the middle of everything, and that island was where the salvation of Earth rested. The simplicity of the idea, and the fact that he had no idea how it worked astonished him. If this was true, well...it would change everything.
Quick, I have an idea. Izzy turned around to stare urgently at the others.
Kari nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned the corner leading to the isolated farm road. There, standing in front of her, barely visible here, but definitely there nonetheless, was a ghost. Translucent clothes shimmered in the pale light, barely illuminating what was left of the man who used to inhabit them. Dark hair, more alive than it had been in life, spilled down his back, and his gentle smile seemed to illuminate the world a bit more than his transparent body.
Kari acknowledged, bowing her head.
I bring a message. Oikawa sounded like he was talking from very far away, much too far away to be real, a voice in the wilderness, barely heard. Something stirs in the Dark Ocean. Something large. The Monarch is unsettled. He is preparing something.
I know. Kari responded shortly. He's beginning to try and haunt my dreams. I can feel him and his minions watching me. It's beginning to annoy me. She tried to use flippancy to cover the sudden flip her heart and stomach had just experienced, as if somebody had flipped the direction of gravity.
He wishes your power. Light has great attraction to the ruler of a plane of darkness. Oikawa shrugged. Still, I know not what he intends to do with it. I wish I knew more of his intent, but that is all I can tell you.
So, basically all you know is that he's up to something, and it involves me. Kari responded, a little put out at the vague warning.
Oikawa shook his head before fading into nothingness. He's up to something and this time it involves everybody.
They're probing us. Hayes concluded grimly, staring at the map in front of him. And that means that pretty soon they're going to find out how weak we are.
I agree. Michael was staring at the map grimly, but even he could find nothing more to say. That doesn't mean that we can't do something about it.
Unfortunately it does. I refuse to retreat more. I'm tired of going backwards anyway. But that means that we need the advantage traditionally conferred to entrenched defenses. And that means that we need to surrender the initiative. As long as I'm dug in all the way across Manhattan, I think it would be fair to say that they have the advantage of initiative, and they can hit us wherever they want. And I don't like it one bit. Hayes chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pointer for a full minute of silence before he realized that he was doing it.
So what do we do? Michael asked.
The Line is holding. We do nothing. Hayes responded. He wondered which one of his men had coined the term The Line to describe the thin layers of defenses that still held the southern part of Manhattan, but it was obvious, and it was going to stick. Hayes was determined about that. Whoever would walk out of that battle would only remember the greatest land battle in recent history. And, even if God himself came out of the clouds against him, he was not going to surrender New York without a damn good fight.
Well, we're going to rest up then. Michael reported, shifting through his reports. We'll probably need it later.
Hayes agreed a second before the real attack came.
What did he see? Alexander asked Daniel, scratching his head.
He claims he saw a long line of men with bicycles heading this way. Daniel reported, shrugging. Kyle's a reliable lad, so I don't think that he was lying, but I don't have the faintest idea what he's talking about. The steady jolt of Deltamon thudding along made it hard to talk, but General Alexander was still confused about what was going on. TK had ordered the front units to temporarily withdraw after they had managed to slow down the enemy advance yet again, and they were getting out of tight quarters. But nobody was ready to deal with a column of men on bicycles.
Well, if they're around that hill, we better set down here. We don't want to alarm them into shooting at us. General Alexander shook his head and stepped around the outcropping of rock that Deltamon and Daniel dropped down behind and squinted. Sure enough, there it was, a line of bicycles stretching off into the horizon, riding about five abreast down an empty asphalt highway. The sparkle of the sun off the bare metal components glimmered at them, revealing their presence, but the nearest bicycles were almost near enough to yell at. General Alexander stepped closer to the road, but then caught himself for a moment, peering at the men on the bicycles. Many of them were wearing the same uniform, and that uniform looked disturbingly familiar. He stared for a moment, and then waved down the front man.
Six bicycles, each carrying an armed soldier skidded to a halt around him, but General Alexander ignored them, concentrating instead on a single man wearing a Colonel's insignia on his uniform. He was right, those uniforms were unmistakable.
Colonel Galvanay, what a surprise seeing you here. Where the hell have you been? Alexander felt his mouth quirk in a smile.
Here and there. The dour Frenchman returned, mustache quivering. Enjoying a nice ride in the country. We were coming here you damn English bastard. Where did you think we were?
Well, what took so long? Alexander put his hands on his hips.
It isn't easy to cross France on a bicycle. Galvanay rolled his eyes. I was warned that you would be around. It's a sad day when the safety of France depends on a man so pathetic that he thinks Britain is a real country.
It's good to see you too Jacques. Alexander held out his hand.
And you Thomas. Those... Galvanay gave out a few words that nobody else in their right mind would translate. back at General Headquarters could not find their rear with both hands. And a map. At least you know which way the enemy is.
So what's your situation?
The French Foreign Legion, what's left of it, is reporting for duty. We are at half strength right now, the other half is deployed in Africa. We lost our command staff as well to an early air strike. Right now we're it. We grabbed every bicycle we could find and have been pedaling north ever since the cars died. We would have made it to Paris, but we were intercepted, and once we learned the situation we thought it better to get down here and see what you were up to.
Who gave you the update? Alexander asked curiously.
That would be us General. A man in a different uniform stepped forward, and this one Alexander recognized immediately. He had not expected to see a fellow Brit on the continent, not with the chaos currently dominating his own government. Colonel MacLeod, Royal Marines reporting for duty.
When did you get here? Alexander frowned at the tall man in the Marine BDU.
'bout four hours ago, after you left on your little joyride. You won't believe how many bicycles we've had to commandeer.
I'll believe it all right, probably when we get the bill. Okay, how much do you have?
Five hundred marines rested and ready to go. We flipped a coin, and we won, so we got to come look for you. 22nd SAS is back in Paris, digging in to support the arrival of heavier units.
So what got you moving? Alexander asked.
We got an order from the Prime Minister to go out and save some Gallic butt, so we shagged ass onto the first transport we could find, and here we are. MacLeod gave the glowering Galvanay a triumphant glare.
Bah. British Barbarians! Galvanay waved off the comment.
Well, you think this is weird, wait until you meet the kids with the digimon. General Alexander grinned at them.
I heard about them. MacLeod confessed. Are they any good?
Well, considering that they're all we've got that can fight the enemy on equal terms, they'll have to do. And they do a pretty damn good job. We're withdrawing ahead of the enemy advance, but I can take you to meet the commander now.
The attack hit everywhere at once. For those who were sitting on the front line, enjoying the proverbial calm before the storm, it looked like the very Earth had risen in arms against them. One private from Maine who survived long enough to report screamed that it looked like a tidal wave, a tidal wave of black water that rose from the depths to swallow the world. It came on, an unstoppable juggernaught of dark forms and angry voices, rising to a tidal wave so loud that soldiers recoiled from the noise on instinct. It was early morning so there was some light from the east, where the sun would rise in a few hours, but that faint light somehow made the creatures coming at them even more horrible, a mixture of horns, teeth and claws reaching out from the unknown.
They're coming over us! Willis had time to yell before the battle reached him. Team Eagle rallied marvelously, and the trained digidestined and their digimon threw themselves into a line to support the soldiers at the front with thunderous bursts of fire from their weapons. But they were suddenly a small island amidst the chaos.
The Australian Avengers were closer to the coast, and they were forced back to the ocean, but they held on. Together with a handful of other digidestined from other areas of the line they managed to hold together and soldiers rallied around them, hard-bitten sergeants forcing their charges into somewhat of an orderly line.
In the center the carnage was fiercer. Tai was directing the digidestined he could reach from the front, darting out to grab retreating bodies, turn them around and throw them back in the line. There was no finesse, and there was no time for it. Everyone was suddenly struggling for their lives, grappling hand to hand with the tide that overwhelmed them. Rifle fire crackled and burned digimon down, but they were not fast enough to stop the tide. Occasionally land mines exploded under the feet of the approaching digimon, sending bodies twisting and turning in the air, but they were only raindrops in the bed of a dry ocean. Mimi was heading for the rear, leaving Lilymon unencumbered to fight the enemy, hauling an injured soldier along with Joe, who was working with the field medics as best as he could. Matt was somewhere aloft, Tai could hear the steady whoosh of missiles flying overhead.
Above Amy and Airdramon soared, dived and screamed with the rest of her airborne digimon and digidestined as the enemy fliers closed in. She appeared on occasion, a single light above the ground, arcing through the darkness. Golden fire marked the titanic battle in the skies. They could not help those on the ground, but they kept the massive rising cloud of dark digimon in the sky from besieging those on Earth.
Terriermon...golden armor digivolve to...Rapidmon!
Betamon...golden armor digivolve to...MegaSeadramon!
Two new digimon crashed through the world, fire rippling from them. MegaSeadramon, with Micheal on his back, rained down thunder on the approaching hordes. Rapidmon soared aloft, and a moment later his Tri-Beam blasted a hole through the enemy lines in a blaze of green light. Below Tai could catch a glimpse of Willis enshrined in golden light, and then his view was obscured by a Bakemon, which he hit over the head with the baseball bat he had been carrying. Ahead he could hear the rhythmic pounding breathing and tearing claws of WarGreymon in a really bad mood, tearing holes through the enemy ranks before they could sink their own claws into human flesh. Most of the digimon in the front ranks were rookies and champions, so WarGreymon could tear through them with ease. He was helped by the sudden resurgence of the thin line of humans as the meager mobile reserves were committed.
Flashes of fire blazed in front of Tai again, and this time, above the din of battle he could hear the steady cough of mortars as they pumped their shells into the onrushing enemy. He could hear the bang of grenades exploding in the horde, the screams of the dying and the injured, the tearing of flesh. He could see the dark horde continuing into infinity, and he felt himself swallowed by their numbers.
Matt grabbed one shoulder, and when Tai turned around, his eyes were serious and confident. It's time!
Tai nodded once and held out a hand to WarGreymon. It was time to use their last trick, the only ace they had up their sleeve. Golden and silver light surrounded them, temporarily blinding soldier and digimon alike. Most looked on with incomprehension, but a few understood what was happening and stood back in expectation.
WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon...Mega DNA Digivolve to...
The light blasted through the world, and suddenly faded, revealing the newly come armored figure to the hordes waiting. Even then, in the moment of heady triumph, Tai felt his heart sink through the soles of his shoes. The forces facing him were huge, he could see them now in the light, and they stretched on forever. Behind him there was only a thin line of humans holding the ground. But they looked on, NYPD, National Guard, regular Army, looked up to him and the digimon he had brought with him to save the world. Matt looked at Tai in the eyes and grinned confidently.
And, facing impossible odds, against an enemy that could not be stopped, the shining white knight of legend stepped out to give battle.
Phil dug himself out of the ground with FlareLizamon's help. A lucky barrage of mortar fire had just dropped half a building on the advancing horde, but it would not hold for very long, and Phil knew it. At the same time Lou was emerging from beneath Tortomon, shaking his head to clear it, and staggering to his feet with the aid of the few soldiers still holding with them, those few left alive. Phil helped as well, pulling a bleeding NYPD officer to his feet, and the burly man grinned at him, flipped his hat brim up a little and, dropping his shattered rifle, pulled his regulation handgun out of its holster and pointed it toward the enemy.
How we doing? Lou managed to gasp.
Almost out of ammo. A soldier reported calmly, bandaging his own arm with a handful of clean gauze, ignoring the general filth everywhere. But other than that, just fine.
Suddenly, Phil grinned. He did not know why. He did not even know how he could still grin at all, so battered was his spirit. He did not know if they would survive this day. He did not know if his friends, if the rest of Team Eagle, was still alive, or where they were, or whether or not they would get out. He was so scared that, if he was not already bone dry, he would have wet his pants, but it did not matter anymore. Suddenly it seemed as if this was a good enough place to die, whether or not it would matter. New York was his city, and he would be three times damned if he was giving it up to a bunch of black covered bugs. All that mattered is that he would be doing something worth doing when his number came up.
Joe Kido worked hurriedly to bandage the soldier in front of him, hampered by the fact that the soldier was unwilling to surrender, still firing his rifle with one arm while Joe tried to brace the other. Ahead there was nothing but chaos and light and destruction, the occasional noise of Zudomon blasting his enemies, but nothing meaningful. All of Joe's attention was focused on the wound beneath his fingers, one of countless such injuries he had dressed today. He was shocked when a hand touched his shoulder.
C'mon son. The man in dusty and dirty BDUs standing above him looked down on him with a kind face. Ain't nothing more you gonna do here. We've got to retreat. They're coming over us like we weren't even here.
But I'm... Joe gestured helplessly and stubbornly to the man lying beneath him.
The standing soldier changed the look on his face. Stewart, can you walk?
No sarge. Private Stewart, a young man from Houston, Texas, engaged to his high school girlfriend, shook his head, strangely still smiling. He gestured his arm, and Joe saw what his concentration had allowed him to miss, a leg trapped under a heavy piece of rubble. But I can still fight, sarge.
There was a moment of perfect silence, upon which even the clamor of the battleground refused to interrupt. Then the sergeant, possibly with a wet eye, saluted with one hand. No matter what I said in drill, you're a damn fine soldier Stewart, probably a better one than me. God bless you.
Thanks sarge. It was fun. I'll give them something to remember us by. Stewart hefted the rifle once and grinned. See ya around boys.
The sergeant saluted once, with meticulous precision as if he was standing on the drill field instead of the battlefield, and then was off running, tugging a reluctant Joe behind him.
Joe's eyes started to tear up when he heard a new eruption of gunfire behind him. He started to cry when he heard it stop.
Mimi was carrying bottled water from the nearest broken storefront. She ran, from gun position to gun position, thrusting the containers of water into the hands of the wounded, the injured, and the dying, into the hands of the living, the men and women who manned the guns. In a fight like this she would only serve to slow Lilymon down, and here she was more use than anywhere else.
Her innocence fell down, a thing of the past, and the dead and dying filled her world.
Omnimon staggered, nearly unseating Matt and Tai. Blood and data flew off of him like a storm as he regained his footing. He was able to crush anyone coming against him, but that was no longer the problem. He was outnumbered now, and those numbers were what was threatening to crush him. He was stronger than an elephant, but he was being stung to death by fleas. Already the landscape was littered with the wrecks of those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast of his Supreme Cannon, but he was a digimon of power and precision, not sheer numbers. He was also about to be overwhelmed. He had fought for what seemed like hours, and now he felt like he was about to drop.
But he was a warrior, and he still believed. And while he believed in Hope, there was still a chance.
We don't have enough of anything left to hold them off with. General Hayes reported to Michael quietly. Michael had fallen back when his portion of the line had fallen to the enemy onrush. He was now standing next to General Hayes in a sudden quiet. Still, we cannot disengage. We cannot withdraw. Therefore, I have no other option. The division will attack.
From behind, as if reinforcing his words, there came the swirl of flutes, and a row of men marched out of the dust and grit of battle, barely visible in the light. It was morning almost, the night having crept through in darkness and hell and terror. The faint rays touched off the color of the buildings, mostly shattered and fallen, broken in pieces like some giant had smashed them flat with his fist. Michael recognized the people coming up the center of the line. They were fire department volunteers, men and women who had volunteered personally to stay behind and safeguard their city, and each of them was carrying something. It took Michael a moment to realize what they were, and then he saw, poles, PVC pipes, fenceposts, and hanging off each a flag.
We raided the UN building. General Hayes confessed. Each country who sent a child to help us has their flag here, every one. Maybe it says something about this day that I never could. He walked beside the man who was carrying the United States flag. Back at West Point they taught us that no US army has seriously marched into battle under the US flag with pipes swirling since the days of the Civil War. I mean to change that today.
His voice rose until it was almost a roar, and every soldier in the region perked up. Present Arms!
Several hundred rifles rose into the air at precise angles with parade ground precision from everyone in hearing range.
The division will fix bayonets! It was an unheard of battle command, but ammunition was low, and time was drawing short. The time these men would spend on the earth was drawing to a close, and the bayonets came out and slammed their way onto the end of the rifles just as if this was rifle drill back at boot camp. If they were going to die they were damned if they were going to let death come to them. They were going to meet death, and they were going to meet him in style.
Form up! That command also was unknown. A thousand men, soldiers, police officers, and digidestined formed into a ragged line. They may have been uneven and unkempt, but their pride and determination shown through.
The division will advance at a walk! The first clash of boots against the ground was nearly deafening. Slowly, the colors hanging over them, 16th Mechanized Infantry division, United States Army, and associated units, began to advance. In front of them dark shapes loomed, and then, appearing suddenly in the light, glowing red eyes.
The division will charge! Hayes howled, and the division sprang forward, screaming their lungs out, rifles lowering, the last few bullets speeding out, and then there was only the exhilaration of the rush, and death.
At that moment the sun rose, behind a cloud of huge, flying digimon, patrolling the skies, raining down death on the exposed below. The sun rose of its accord, some act of nature or a higher power giving the rushing soldiers below a last salute, a recognition of their final act of bravery, illuminating digimon, both good and bad, in a glow of golden light. And as the sun lit like nature's own fireworks, illuminating the sky, there was a sound of thunder as if the fireworks had indeed gone off, a final salute.
And a hundred and fifty Advanced Medium Range Air to Air Missiles exploded overhead in a shower of fire.
Colonel Jeffery Winters, impromptu commander of the newly formed 1st Home Guard Air Wing gave out a howl of triumph. The bastards hadn't even been looking, and the first three squadrons, the F-22A Raptors, had unleashed a double salvo of AMRAAMs from each aircraft before they had even knew they were there. And, as promised, the missiles had dove home. And now, it's payback time.
There were not many of them, but they were going fast, faster than any of the digimon floating in the air. There was a rush as the heat seeking AIM-9 Sidewinders cut loose at close range, clawing after any heat source large enough, any digimon with a large enough signature to attract attention, and then digimon were blotted from the sky as warhead unleashed deadly clouds of shrapnel into their kill zone. A second later the fighters were inside the globe of enemy, 20mm nose cannons blurring as they unleashed hundreds of bullets on their enemies. Digimon screamed as those bullets, meant to destroy armored hostile aircraft, tore their way home. Corpses, shattered or shedding data, fell twisted from the sky.
Raptor Lead, this is Eagle Lead. Fox Three on the ugly guys. The next squadrons in were all that was left of the vaunted F-15C squadrons, but they were pissed as hell over the loss of their comrades, and they now had the armament to let out their frustrations. Another double salvo of AMRAAMs cut in, and more digimon hurled from the sky, as if they were rag dolls with their stuffing torn out. Behind them other fighter squadrons, F-16s, F-18s and F-14s from wherever they had managed to escape from, began to tear their way into the battle zone.
Raptor Lead, this is Imperial Base. Heads up, we're coming in. Beta Wing, ride herd on the wagons! Alpha Wing, take out that formation at three o'clock high. Gamma, Delta, break and attack! Winters smiled an ugly smile, and tore his fighter up, and the horde floating there, disorganized, demoralized, stung by these little killer minnows, looked up with confused eyes and saw, for the first time, an enemy they recognized.
Mega Crusher! ImperialDramon flamed, and a brilliant ball of white energy blasted out of his open jaws. Behind that awful display of power two groups of a hundred flying digimon broke their careful formation and dove to the attack, screaming their own battle cries, the eyes of the digidestined on their backs cold and tense. Moments later the sky was a mass of continuing explosions as dogfights twisted all over the sky. Bodies screamed through the air, screaming battle cries that were a mixture of exhilaration and pure terror as newbies and veterans mixed it up in the largest air battle ever fought in the United States. Behind them, the threads of destiny were shifting, and in the distance, the sun was starting to rise above the chaos of battle. So did Winter's voice.
Wagon Train, this is Raptor Lead. The coast is as clear as it's going to get. So get moving!
What the hell is that? A lieutenant looked up at the sky even as he skewered a Bakemon on the edge of his bayonet. That sound suddenly deafened even them, and the fireworks overhead indicated that something interesting was definitely happening up there. The digimon they were charging suddenly showed some signs of consternation, suddenly turned around and retreated, leaving only the blackness behind. Soldiers widened their eyes in surprise as their enemies suddenly blurred and disappeared backwards, as if running away. A moment ago they had been fighting for their lives, but now they were alone, listening to the battle overhead, and a sudden roar that broke through even the sounds of combat.
And then the sky filled again with something new. Hundreds of helicopters, mostly military in drab gray and green paint, but some police choppers, and some still bearing the logos of the news stations they had been appropriated from, hove into view. They paused, a difficult thing for any formation of helicopters moving as tightly as this one, depending on the surprise of their sudden appearance to keep them safe. From each helicopter a rope or a rope ladder descended downward, and suddenly the world was filled with people sliding down. Soldiers wearing both army and marine insignia, carrying their own rifles and packs on their backs, or packs of equipment. Heavy weapons troopers with their massive rocket launchers and mortars. Medics with their kits and sappers with their explosives slid down as well, accompanied by anyone else who could carry a rifle and fit in the first wave of helicopters. And with them came hundreds of children and teenagers, each one carrying a digimon in their arms, hitting the ground and running forward, digimon transforming as they did. In a moment there was a solid wave of men, equipment and digimon hitting the ground, and Hayes watched all of it with an open mouth, and the expression of a kid watching the pile of loot under the tree on Christmas morning.
Michael looked up dully, his mind blunted by the experiences, only to find himself looking into Yolei's smiling face.
Sorry we're late Michael. She apologized.
We held the line. Hayes whispered, and the cheering began.
Glossary: BDU: Battle Dress Uniform, standard military combat dress
NORAD: North American Aerospace Defence
The Line
Victory belongs to the most persevering.
--Napoleon Bonaparte--
Never give in--never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
--Winston Churchill—
Izzy flipped back over the figures one more time. The interference fields may have managed to jam most on-site reconnaisance, but there was still the possibility of satellite photos, obtained by one very angry Colonel Winters shouting at one of the satellite transmission bases in southern California. Unfortunately with the National Reconaissance Office in Washington DC out of commission, and NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain not responding to any queries, it had taken nearly forever to find the photographs. But they showed an unwelcome truth.
Hundreds of thousands, millions? Izzy asked rhetorically. How many of them are there?
We were hoping you could tell us. Winters replied. We're going to need all the information we can get.
Any word on the European attack? Izzy asked again.
Not really, not unless you mean bad news. The French have already reported that in their first engagement they lost almost fifty percent of their armed forces that they could call in. Meanwhile we got word that the National Guard and the regular army units from around the US are beginning to assemble, but at best it's going to take us two or three days just to march to New York from the place where our transports start messing up and failing. You can't even use a car within a hundred miles of the city the interference is so bad. Colonel Winters snorted and hammered against the fuselage of his multi-million dollar fighter, sitting uselessly on a runway.
Something still doesn't add up. If they could crush us this easily, why didn't they attack sooner? Izzy asked himself.
TK walked back into the command room at Versailles and immediately the entire atmosphere of the room changed. He was confident again, radiating his silent skill and ability to the others in the building. Every step he took was a mark of his patience, and it restored heart to those standing around the maps on the table.
All right people, we have a new plan. TK stood up at the front of the table with Generals Alexander and Sergev behind him, Yuri, Sonja and Anna sneaking in to sit on one side. First, I tell Kari to continue trying to slow them down, but perhaps with less dangerous means. Block the roads, divert irrigation canals, that sort of thing. Next, we have some company. General Sergev has graciously agreed to put his soldiers, the 21st Russian Airborne guards, to see to our needs and assist us in any way possible. So, I want to use our digimon right now mostly as pack animals. Our reports indicate that if you get a car not attached to a digidestined within about two hundred fifty kilometers of that horde, it shuts down. Somehow they are interfering with mechanical devices as well as electrical ones. That means that the only things that we can use out there are bicycles, horses and digimon, and guess who can carry the most gear.
Now, currently it looks like this. They're skirting Dijon and its immediate surroundings rather carefully, but they are about halfway between Dijon and Bourges, which puts them about here. I want to go out with the Russian units, hopefully to erect mortar batteries all up and down the most rugged hills. With our mobility we can move a firebase before they manage to figure out where it is. It seems that, from what we've heard from America, that basic artillery still works, as long as you don't need the electronics. So, we move around in the hills there, and try and slow them down.
Next, Cody will begin to train fast running digidestined. We've received almost three hundred IDEF personnel so far since the skirmish, and more are expected at any moment. As long as they are in bad terrain we have the opportunity to hit them without them hitting us, but once they get out on the plains south of Paris, we're going to have to bleed to stop them. So I want to be ready for that, understood?
Yes sir! Yuri snapped off a salute, grinned at the expression on TK's face, and then leaned over the maps to familiarize himself with them.
Was it a good plan? TK asked out of the side of his mouth.
I think it'll work. General Sergev responded with a smile. By the way, if you ever find yourself needing work, the Russian Army is always looking for potential officers of your caliber.
Hands off! Alexander snapped with mock anger. We saw him first.
Tai jerked awake for the third time, but there was nothing there. Nothing except for the crackle of fire in the pit in front of him. In his mind there was still the sound of burning bodies, of screaming, of gunfire random and undirected, of the constant taste of fear in his mouth and the weight of terror in his stomach. But here it was quiet. Matt and Gabumon, both exhausted, were curled around each other nearby, both looking tattered and worn. Mimi was lying unconscious on the remains of a mattress she had dredged up from somewhere, Palmon by her side. Gomamon was lying on the pair of pillows that Joe had dredged up, but Joe himself was nowhere to be seen. Standing over them was a soldier, dark haired and unshaven, with a bit of blood on his BDU sleeve, but holding his M16 competently in one hand. He, at least, looked awake. There were half a dozen other soldiers in various states of wakefulness around them, and Tai could see another group of sentries surrounding Team Eagle's sleeping place. They were not resting together, preventing them from becoming too much of a target and General Hayes had recognized their usefulness, assigning guards to protect them.
In their turn the soldiers had almost an awestruck approach toward the boys and girls and their powerful monsters who had held off the enemy for so long. The constant battle prowess of the digimon, coupled with the courage and determination of the children who had accompanied them to war had won the respect of the hard-bitten troopers. They weren't going to let anyone through to harm the children, even if they had to shed their own blood to protect the kids.
What time is it? Tai asked in his slow, careful English.
The soldier shrugged, instantly reminding Tai that no watches would be working, and then he glanced at the stars overhead. About eight in the evening I think.
Tai blinked, suddenly realizing that is was indeed nighttime. His eyes widened involuntarily. You mean that I've been asleep for...
Most of the day. About ten hours, I think. Pretty common for the front line soldiers. It's been quiet. After their initial push, they decided to wait for a bit. We haven't seen hide nor hair of them all day. The soldier turned back to look in his assigned direction. Tai glanced down at the sleeping Agumon and then levered himself up. He was awake now, no longer tired, but he was ravenously hungry. Quietly, so as not to wake the others, he levered himself up and wandered off toward the smell of food.
Dinner was a huge savory hash. They had nearly unlimited ingredients, thanks in part to the field kitchens scrounging from every store they could find. The cooks had managed to combine everything into an edible mess that actually tasted quite good. Tai walked up to the counter, grabbed a metal tray like some of the other soldiers, and walked through, receiving a generous dollop on his plate. He received some odd looks too, but apparently enough kids had been through that the cooks were not asking questions anymore, indeed if they ever had been.
Hey Tai, over here! Tai caught a glimpse of a familiar blue-haired boy in the crowd and went over and sat down next to Joe, who was halfway through his plate already.
Where've you been? Tai asked Joe, beginning to shovel his own food into his mouth.
Oh, here and there. Joe confessed with a smile. How about you? Gone anyplace interesting?
I just woke up. How do you handle this? Tai yawned again.
Joe shrugged. Remember, I volunteer in the hospital. If there's been an accident on the bridges or a big fire or anything like that they drag in everyone they can get. I've been helping the field surgeons set up and get to work on the wounded for an hour or two now. Huh, funny really. It's what I do best, but it looks like fighting is my job.
How bad is it? Tai asked.
Well, it's better than it could be. Since the evacuation we've had a handful of hospitals that we're using for the big equipment, but we need electricity to actually do our job. We've found a way of rigging up storage batteries that seems to work, but it's taking too much time. Mostly we're just cutting people apart and hoping that we can put them back together again.
Tai blanched at that.
Well, it's going to get worse. We keep going like this; we're going to run out of painkiller before the day is over. Joe reported grimly.
Hey guys. Willis sat wearily next to them, drooping.
You need some sleep. Joe pointed out critically.
I just had a five hour nap. Willis shook his head. I wanted to get some food in me before I go back to drowsing under the shade of some bushes somewhere. I would kill for a hot shower right now.
So, what's the news? Joe asked, sawing a chunk of potato in half.
Well, every hour they delay helps us. We've got the remainder of the National Guard still on the other side of the river coming over to lend us a hand. We've got the volunteers from the NYPD forming up to provide us with some backup. We've even got some artillery support, and of course resting aids our digimon. The problem is, of course, that even rested, we're still outnumbered and outgunned by a lot. So the new plan is going to be tough.
What's the new plan? Tai asked cautiously.
Willis paused for a moment. America is very unique Tai. It doesn't have ancient capitals and places of historical import. All it has is modern compared to the cities of Europe and Japan. The symbol of America has always been New York city, the skyline, the lights, the Statue of Liberty, all of that. It's been a battered symbol at times, but it still lies at the heart of this country. Hayes knows that the army is gathering outside of the interference barrier, that any further attacks will be met in force, and that the loss of New York will not effect their plans. So he's decided to hold. From now on we hold every inch of ground, and we make them bleed for every yard they try to take. If the situation becomes critical, he ordered the digidestined to run for it, but he and his men are going to stand and die with this city.
Is that wise? Tai asked, ignoring Joe's gaping open mouth.
I don't know. But I know that it's right. Willis replied calmly, too calmly, and with a shaking hand. We have to stand somewhere.
Then we stand here. We've drawn a line on the earth, and now we're going to hold it. Tai stated firmly, and grinned.
Ken hung onto ImperialDramon with his knees as the massive Mega executed a sharp right hand turn. They had almost finished the first part, even without Izzy. Every team from the Western Hemisphere was on its way to the new rendezvous point just outside of the New York area, with Izzy and the others. Then they would start moving every Eastern digidestined to support Paris, where TK had tersely reported contact with the enemy. Ken just huddled down and prayed for more speed.
Fire mission! General Alexander called. He was feeling great for the first time in a long time. He had not led a field mission since he was a Lieutenant, and here he was, shirt sleeves rolled up, down in the dirt of the French countryside with a bunch of kids, watching the biggest, ugliest army since the Third Reich roll over the ground, and talking into a fluorescent plastic device held by a girl who did not even speak his language. He had not had so much fun in years.
The Russian company commander sounded likewise thrilled on the other end. He was finally getting to shoot something with those big telephone poles that he carried around all the time. The firing computers were out, of course, and half the delicate mechanics did not work, but the Russians were good troops. Six pages of scratch paper, three slide rules, a protractor, a box of wrenches, a compass, and five sets of topographical maps later they had manually, through a great deal of yanking, grabbing and manhandling, managed to point their guns in the right direction.
From behind came the unmistakable thunder of heavy artillery speaking out. The mechanics on the guns might not work right anymore, but gunpowder appeared to be just as explosive, and, with a roar that was distant enough to sound like thunder, the entire reserve artillery brigade fired as one. There were a few moments of quiet, and some confusion down below as the digimon milled around uncertainly after hearing the first noise, and then there was a whine, and the sound of all hell breaking loose.
What had been a real surprise was that General Sergev had managed to cram a hundred extra 152mm artillery pieces into those planes, along with enough ammunition to keep them going for a long time. Now the first hundred shells from the reserve battery came screaming in overhead. The valley erupted, as if a hundred different volcanoes had decided to erupt at the same time. Despite all the effort that the Russians had put into it, they were shooting a little high, but the enemy was so spread out that they covered near the entire valley and the explosions impacted on the south side, sending digimon flying, injured or disappearing in showers of data. Mass confusion broke out in the ranks as the first salvo slammed home, the noise frightening the digimon as much as the power.
Drop fifty meters and fire again. Alexander spoke into the D3 held in front of him.
Several kilometers away his voice emerged from TK's D3, and the Russian captain turned and yelled at his crew in Russian. Immediately men sprang into action, branidishing wrenches, prybars and hammers among other tools. It took thirty seconds to drop the barrels another notch or so as the gears inside were turned manually. Then another salvo roared out, loud even through TK's ear protection.
Even though most of the opposing forces had not even seen each other, the third battle of Versailles had begun.
The first attack kicked off about midnight. The first indication for the digidestined was the sudden ripple of gunfire from the front lines, and the glowing light of flares thrown up into the air. A moment later came the screams.
Team Eagle was closer and faster this time. Frigimon and Steve reached the lines first and began striking out at whatever was coming over as fast as they could. Tortomon's Strong Carapace rained destruction down on what was on the other side. By the time Willis and the others arrived, there was a distinct lack of targets. The gunfire died out, just as the reserve company moved into position. Suddenly, an awful and portentous calm fell over the front line, people looking at each other nervously in the disappearance of noise from the battle.
What the hell? Willis murmured as the light from the flares revealed a dozen rookie digimon retreating into the darkness.
Then the screams began elsewhere.
Is it going to mean anything Izzy? Lanis asked. Michael's cousin was drooping, the long flight apparently not having agreed with her. The older woman had just arrived, her Gulfstream-V winging in carrying the LA Thunderbirds and all their supporting teams, but she looked tired, and the steady weight of despair had begun to crush down on the digidestined assembled there. Even as Ken began to drop off some of the last IDEF drops, the situation had not brightened one bit. There were now close to four thousand digidestined sitting around the airport runways, their digimon and them frantically engaged in games or last minute preparations. Out of one corner of their eyes they all took peeks in the direction of New York, but nothing there ever changed.
I'm missing something. Izzy muttered.
What was that? Mina, still wearing the traditional garb of India from when Izzy had met her the first time, came up from behind, Meramon stalking patiently behind her.
Something's missing. Look at this. Even at our best we have only five thousand or so digidestined here, and maybe two hundred already in New York. With the reserves that we've had to shuffle off to Paris already, it's not that much. How many digimon do they have in there? Millions? There's nothing that we can do about it.
What's your point? Colonel Winters asked, coming up from behind. They outnumber us by too high a margin. Even if we hold New York for a day or two, they'll overwhelm us. And then they're going to sweep across the Eastern Seaboard. We'll do our best to stop them, but our army depends too much on technology. Without it we're really no match for them.
So why now? Izzy asked.
What do you mean? Ramon of the LA Thunderbirds wrinkled his brow in frustration. What do you mean now?
I mean that we were there when Khartan came to this world. Why did it take him weeks to mount this attack? It seems obvious that his digimon can move freely through the uninhabited portions of the world. Yet he spent weeks trying to discredit digimon completely, drive the digidestined underground. He wasted time trying to lure us out and destroy us. So, I was wondering, why?
Maybe he just hates us. Mina responded.
I don't think that's it. He's not as stupid as some digimon we've fought. But we simply don't have the numbers to fight him. So why did he spend so much time trying to fight us? Izzy stared at the floor. Something that Gennai had said was bothering him. Something about how the digidestined could be the key to victory. And then it clicked.
The digidestined. Not the digimon, the digidestined.
The idea started out as a small suspicion, but suddenly it expanded like an explosion. Every neuron in his brain must have fired at once, lines of thought racing in a dozen different directions, but all converging to one simple, inescapable truth. The world was awash with the sea of his thoughts, but there was a big island in the middle of everything, and that island was where the salvation of Earth rested. The simplicity of the idea, and the fact that he had no idea how it worked astonished him. If this was true, well...it would change everything.
Quick, I have an idea. Izzy turned around to stare urgently at the others.
Kari nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned the corner leading to the isolated farm road. There, standing in front of her, barely visible here, but definitely there nonetheless, was a ghost. Translucent clothes shimmered in the pale light, barely illuminating what was left of the man who used to inhabit them. Dark hair, more alive than it had been in life, spilled down his back, and his gentle smile seemed to illuminate the world a bit more than his transparent body.
Kari acknowledged, bowing her head.
I bring a message. Oikawa sounded like he was talking from very far away, much too far away to be real, a voice in the wilderness, barely heard. Something stirs in the Dark Ocean. Something large. The Monarch is unsettled. He is preparing something.
I know. Kari responded shortly. He's beginning to try and haunt my dreams. I can feel him and his minions watching me. It's beginning to annoy me. She tried to use flippancy to cover the sudden flip her heart and stomach had just experienced, as if somebody had flipped the direction of gravity.
He wishes your power. Light has great attraction to the ruler of a plane of darkness. Oikawa shrugged. Still, I know not what he intends to do with it. I wish I knew more of his intent, but that is all I can tell you.
So, basically all you know is that he's up to something, and it involves me. Kari responded, a little put out at the vague warning.
Oikawa shook his head before fading into nothingness. He's up to something and this time it involves everybody.
They're probing us. Hayes concluded grimly, staring at the map in front of him. And that means that pretty soon they're going to find out how weak we are.
I agree. Michael was staring at the map grimly, but even he could find nothing more to say. That doesn't mean that we can't do something about it.
Unfortunately it does. I refuse to retreat more. I'm tired of going backwards anyway. But that means that we need the advantage traditionally conferred to entrenched defenses. And that means that we need to surrender the initiative. As long as I'm dug in all the way across Manhattan, I think it would be fair to say that they have the advantage of initiative, and they can hit us wherever they want. And I don't like it one bit. Hayes chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pointer for a full minute of silence before he realized that he was doing it.
So what do we do? Michael asked.
The Line is holding. We do nothing. Hayes responded. He wondered which one of his men had coined the term The Line to describe the thin layers of defenses that still held the southern part of Manhattan, but it was obvious, and it was going to stick. Hayes was determined about that. Whoever would walk out of that battle would only remember the greatest land battle in recent history. And, even if God himself came out of the clouds against him, he was not going to surrender New York without a damn good fight.
Well, we're going to rest up then. Michael reported, shifting through his reports. We'll probably need it later.
Hayes agreed a second before the real attack came.
What did he see? Alexander asked Daniel, scratching his head.
He claims he saw a long line of men with bicycles heading this way. Daniel reported, shrugging. Kyle's a reliable lad, so I don't think that he was lying, but I don't have the faintest idea what he's talking about. The steady jolt of Deltamon thudding along made it hard to talk, but General Alexander was still confused about what was going on. TK had ordered the front units to temporarily withdraw after they had managed to slow down the enemy advance yet again, and they were getting out of tight quarters. But nobody was ready to deal with a column of men on bicycles.
Well, if they're around that hill, we better set down here. We don't want to alarm them into shooting at us. General Alexander shook his head and stepped around the outcropping of rock that Deltamon and Daniel dropped down behind and squinted. Sure enough, there it was, a line of bicycles stretching off into the horizon, riding about five abreast down an empty asphalt highway. The sparkle of the sun off the bare metal components glimmered at them, revealing their presence, but the nearest bicycles were almost near enough to yell at. General Alexander stepped closer to the road, but then caught himself for a moment, peering at the men on the bicycles. Many of them were wearing the same uniform, and that uniform looked disturbingly familiar. He stared for a moment, and then waved down the front man.
Six bicycles, each carrying an armed soldier skidded to a halt around him, but General Alexander ignored them, concentrating instead on a single man wearing a Colonel's insignia on his uniform. He was right, those uniforms were unmistakable.
Colonel Galvanay, what a surprise seeing you here. Where the hell have you been? Alexander felt his mouth quirk in a smile.
Here and there. The dour Frenchman returned, mustache quivering. Enjoying a nice ride in the country. We were coming here you damn English bastard. Where did you think we were?
Well, what took so long? Alexander put his hands on his hips.
It isn't easy to cross France on a bicycle. Galvanay rolled his eyes. I was warned that you would be around. It's a sad day when the safety of France depends on a man so pathetic that he thinks Britain is a real country.
It's good to see you too Jacques. Alexander held out his hand.
And you Thomas. Those... Galvanay gave out a few words that nobody else in their right mind would translate. back at General Headquarters could not find their rear with both hands. And a map. At least you know which way the enemy is.
So what's your situation?
The French Foreign Legion, what's left of it, is reporting for duty. We are at half strength right now, the other half is deployed in Africa. We lost our command staff as well to an early air strike. Right now we're it. We grabbed every bicycle we could find and have been pedaling north ever since the cars died. We would have made it to Paris, but we were intercepted, and once we learned the situation we thought it better to get down here and see what you were up to.
Who gave you the update? Alexander asked curiously.
That would be us General. A man in a different uniform stepped forward, and this one Alexander recognized immediately. He had not expected to see a fellow Brit on the continent, not with the chaos currently dominating his own government. Colonel MacLeod, Royal Marines reporting for duty.
When did you get here? Alexander frowned at the tall man in the Marine BDU.
'bout four hours ago, after you left on your little joyride. You won't believe how many bicycles we've had to commandeer.
I'll believe it all right, probably when we get the bill. Okay, how much do you have?
Five hundred marines rested and ready to go. We flipped a coin, and we won, so we got to come look for you. 22nd SAS is back in Paris, digging in to support the arrival of heavier units.
So what got you moving? Alexander asked.
We got an order from the Prime Minister to go out and save some Gallic butt, so we shagged ass onto the first transport we could find, and here we are. MacLeod gave the glowering Galvanay a triumphant glare.
Bah. British Barbarians! Galvanay waved off the comment.
Well, you think this is weird, wait until you meet the kids with the digimon. General Alexander grinned at them.
I heard about them. MacLeod confessed. Are they any good?
Well, considering that they're all we've got that can fight the enemy on equal terms, they'll have to do. And they do a pretty damn good job. We're withdrawing ahead of the enemy advance, but I can take you to meet the commander now.
The attack hit everywhere at once. For those who were sitting on the front line, enjoying the proverbial calm before the storm, it looked like the very Earth had risen in arms against them. One private from Maine who survived long enough to report screamed that it looked like a tidal wave, a tidal wave of black water that rose from the depths to swallow the world. It came on, an unstoppable juggernaught of dark forms and angry voices, rising to a tidal wave so loud that soldiers recoiled from the noise on instinct. It was early morning so there was some light from the east, where the sun would rise in a few hours, but that faint light somehow made the creatures coming at them even more horrible, a mixture of horns, teeth and claws reaching out from the unknown.
They're coming over us! Willis had time to yell before the battle reached him. Team Eagle rallied marvelously, and the trained digidestined and their digimon threw themselves into a line to support the soldiers at the front with thunderous bursts of fire from their weapons. But they were suddenly a small island amidst the chaos.
The Australian Avengers were closer to the coast, and they were forced back to the ocean, but they held on. Together with a handful of other digidestined from other areas of the line they managed to hold together and soldiers rallied around them, hard-bitten sergeants forcing their charges into somewhat of an orderly line.
In the center the carnage was fiercer. Tai was directing the digidestined he could reach from the front, darting out to grab retreating bodies, turn them around and throw them back in the line. There was no finesse, and there was no time for it. Everyone was suddenly struggling for their lives, grappling hand to hand with the tide that overwhelmed them. Rifle fire crackled and burned digimon down, but they were not fast enough to stop the tide. Occasionally land mines exploded under the feet of the approaching digimon, sending bodies twisting and turning in the air, but they were only raindrops in the bed of a dry ocean. Mimi was heading for the rear, leaving Lilymon unencumbered to fight the enemy, hauling an injured soldier along with Joe, who was working with the field medics as best as he could. Matt was somewhere aloft, Tai could hear the steady whoosh of missiles flying overhead.
Above Amy and Airdramon soared, dived and screamed with the rest of her airborne digimon and digidestined as the enemy fliers closed in. She appeared on occasion, a single light above the ground, arcing through the darkness. Golden fire marked the titanic battle in the skies. They could not help those on the ground, but they kept the massive rising cloud of dark digimon in the sky from besieging those on Earth.
Terriermon...golden armor digivolve to...Rapidmon!
Betamon...golden armor digivolve to...MegaSeadramon!
Two new digimon crashed through the world, fire rippling from them. MegaSeadramon, with Micheal on his back, rained down thunder on the approaching hordes. Rapidmon soared aloft, and a moment later his Tri-Beam blasted a hole through the enemy lines in a blaze of green light. Below Tai could catch a glimpse of Willis enshrined in golden light, and then his view was obscured by a Bakemon, which he hit over the head with the baseball bat he had been carrying. Ahead he could hear the rhythmic pounding breathing and tearing claws of WarGreymon in a really bad mood, tearing holes through the enemy ranks before they could sink their own claws into human flesh. Most of the digimon in the front ranks were rookies and champions, so WarGreymon could tear through them with ease. He was helped by the sudden resurgence of the thin line of humans as the meager mobile reserves were committed.
Flashes of fire blazed in front of Tai again, and this time, above the din of battle he could hear the steady cough of mortars as they pumped their shells into the onrushing enemy. He could hear the bang of grenades exploding in the horde, the screams of the dying and the injured, the tearing of flesh. He could see the dark horde continuing into infinity, and he felt himself swallowed by their numbers.
Matt grabbed one shoulder, and when Tai turned around, his eyes were serious and confident. It's time!
Tai nodded once and held out a hand to WarGreymon. It was time to use their last trick, the only ace they had up their sleeve. Golden and silver light surrounded them, temporarily blinding soldier and digimon alike. Most looked on with incomprehension, but a few understood what was happening and stood back in expectation.
WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon...Mega DNA Digivolve to...
The light blasted through the world, and suddenly faded, revealing the newly come armored figure to the hordes waiting. Even then, in the moment of heady triumph, Tai felt his heart sink through the soles of his shoes. The forces facing him were huge, he could see them now in the light, and they stretched on forever. Behind him there was only a thin line of humans holding the ground. But they looked on, NYPD, National Guard, regular Army, looked up to him and the digimon he had brought with him to save the world. Matt looked at Tai in the eyes and grinned confidently.
And, facing impossible odds, against an enemy that could not be stopped, the shining white knight of legend stepped out to give battle.
Phil dug himself out of the ground with FlareLizamon's help. A lucky barrage of mortar fire had just dropped half a building on the advancing horde, but it would not hold for very long, and Phil knew it. At the same time Lou was emerging from beneath Tortomon, shaking his head to clear it, and staggering to his feet with the aid of the few soldiers still holding with them, those few left alive. Phil helped as well, pulling a bleeding NYPD officer to his feet, and the burly man grinned at him, flipped his hat brim up a little and, dropping his shattered rifle, pulled his regulation handgun out of its holster and pointed it toward the enemy.
How we doing? Lou managed to gasp.
Almost out of ammo. A soldier reported calmly, bandaging his own arm with a handful of clean gauze, ignoring the general filth everywhere. But other than that, just fine.
Suddenly, Phil grinned. He did not know why. He did not even know how he could still grin at all, so battered was his spirit. He did not know if they would survive this day. He did not know if his friends, if the rest of Team Eagle, was still alive, or where they were, or whether or not they would get out. He was so scared that, if he was not already bone dry, he would have wet his pants, but it did not matter anymore. Suddenly it seemed as if this was a good enough place to die, whether or not it would matter. New York was his city, and he would be three times damned if he was giving it up to a bunch of black covered bugs. All that mattered is that he would be doing something worth doing when his number came up.
Joe Kido worked hurriedly to bandage the soldier in front of him, hampered by the fact that the soldier was unwilling to surrender, still firing his rifle with one arm while Joe tried to brace the other. Ahead there was nothing but chaos and light and destruction, the occasional noise of Zudomon blasting his enemies, but nothing meaningful. All of Joe's attention was focused on the wound beneath his fingers, one of countless such injuries he had dressed today. He was shocked when a hand touched his shoulder.
C'mon son. The man in dusty and dirty BDUs standing above him looked down on him with a kind face. Ain't nothing more you gonna do here. We've got to retreat. They're coming over us like we weren't even here.
But I'm... Joe gestured helplessly and stubbornly to the man lying beneath him.
The standing soldier changed the look on his face. Stewart, can you walk?
No sarge. Private Stewart, a young man from Houston, Texas, engaged to his high school girlfriend, shook his head, strangely still smiling. He gestured his arm, and Joe saw what his concentration had allowed him to miss, a leg trapped under a heavy piece of rubble. But I can still fight, sarge.
There was a moment of perfect silence, upon which even the clamor of the battleground refused to interrupt. Then the sergeant, possibly with a wet eye, saluted with one hand. No matter what I said in drill, you're a damn fine soldier Stewart, probably a better one than me. God bless you.
Thanks sarge. It was fun. I'll give them something to remember us by. Stewart hefted the rifle once and grinned. See ya around boys.
The sergeant saluted once, with meticulous precision as if he was standing on the drill field instead of the battlefield, and then was off running, tugging a reluctant Joe behind him.
Joe's eyes started to tear up when he heard a new eruption of gunfire behind him. He started to cry when he heard it stop.
Mimi was carrying bottled water from the nearest broken storefront. She ran, from gun position to gun position, thrusting the containers of water into the hands of the wounded, the injured, and the dying, into the hands of the living, the men and women who manned the guns. In a fight like this she would only serve to slow Lilymon down, and here she was more use than anywhere else.
Her innocence fell down, a thing of the past, and the dead and dying filled her world.
Omnimon staggered, nearly unseating Matt and Tai. Blood and data flew off of him like a storm as he regained his footing. He was able to crush anyone coming against him, but that was no longer the problem. He was outnumbered now, and those numbers were what was threatening to crush him. He was stronger than an elephant, but he was being stung to death by fleas. Already the landscape was littered with the wrecks of those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast of his Supreme Cannon, but he was a digimon of power and precision, not sheer numbers. He was also about to be overwhelmed. He had fought for what seemed like hours, and now he felt like he was about to drop.
But he was a warrior, and he still believed. And while he believed in Hope, there was still a chance.
We don't have enough of anything left to hold them off with. General Hayes reported to Michael quietly. Michael had fallen back when his portion of the line had fallen to the enemy onrush. He was now standing next to General Hayes in a sudden quiet. Still, we cannot disengage. We cannot withdraw. Therefore, I have no other option. The division will attack.
From behind, as if reinforcing his words, there came the swirl of flutes, and a row of men marched out of the dust and grit of battle, barely visible in the light. It was morning almost, the night having crept through in darkness and hell and terror. The faint rays touched off the color of the buildings, mostly shattered and fallen, broken in pieces like some giant had smashed them flat with his fist. Michael recognized the people coming up the center of the line. They were fire department volunteers, men and women who had volunteered personally to stay behind and safeguard their city, and each of them was carrying something. It took Michael a moment to realize what they were, and then he saw, poles, PVC pipes, fenceposts, and hanging off each a flag.
We raided the UN building. General Hayes confessed. Each country who sent a child to help us has their flag here, every one. Maybe it says something about this day that I never could. He walked beside the man who was carrying the United States flag. Back at West Point they taught us that no US army has seriously marched into battle under the US flag with pipes swirling since the days of the Civil War. I mean to change that today.
His voice rose until it was almost a roar, and every soldier in the region perked up. Present Arms!
Several hundred rifles rose into the air at precise angles with parade ground precision from everyone in hearing range.
The division will fix bayonets! It was an unheard of battle command, but ammunition was low, and time was drawing short. The time these men would spend on the earth was drawing to a close, and the bayonets came out and slammed their way onto the end of the rifles just as if this was rifle drill back at boot camp. If they were going to die they were damned if they were going to let death come to them. They were going to meet death, and they were going to meet him in style.
Form up! That command also was unknown. A thousand men, soldiers, police officers, and digidestined formed into a ragged line. They may have been uneven and unkempt, but their pride and determination shown through.
The division will advance at a walk! The first clash of boots against the ground was nearly deafening. Slowly, the colors hanging over them, 16th Mechanized Infantry division, United States Army, and associated units, began to advance. In front of them dark shapes loomed, and then, appearing suddenly in the light, glowing red eyes.
The division will charge! Hayes howled, and the division sprang forward, screaming their lungs out, rifles lowering, the last few bullets speeding out, and then there was only the exhilaration of the rush, and death.
At that moment the sun rose, behind a cloud of huge, flying digimon, patrolling the skies, raining down death on the exposed below. The sun rose of its accord, some act of nature or a higher power giving the rushing soldiers below a last salute, a recognition of their final act of bravery, illuminating digimon, both good and bad, in a glow of golden light. And as the sun lit like nature's own fireworks, illuminating the sky, there was a sound of thunder as if the fireworks had indeed gone off, a final salute.
And a hundred and fifty Advanced Medium Range Air to Air Missiles exploded overhead in a shower of fire.
Colonel Jeffery Winters, impromptu commander of the newly formed 1st Home Guard Air Wing gave out a howl of triumph. The bastards hadn't even been looking, and the first three squadrons, the F-22A Raptors, had unleashed a double salvo of AMRAAMs from each aircraft before they had even knew they were there. And, as promised, the missiles had dove home. And now, it's payback time.
There were not many of them, but they were going fast, faster than any of the digimon floating in the air. There was a rush as the heat seeking AIM-9 Sidewinders cut loose at close range, clawing after any heat source large enough, any digimon with a large enough signature to attract attention, and then digimon were blotted from the sky as warhead unleashed deadly clouds of shrapnel into their kill zone. A second later the fighters were inside the globe of enemy, 20mm nose cannons blurring as they unleashed hundreds of bullets on their enemies. Digimon screamed as those bullets, meant to destroy armored hostile aircraft, tore their way home. Corpses, shattered or shedding data, fell twisted from the sky.
Raptor Lead, this is Eagle Lead. Fox Three on the ugly guys. The next squadrons in were all that was left of the vaunted F-15C squadrons, but they were pissed as hell over the loss of their comrades, and they now had the armament to let out their frustrations. Another double salvo of AMRAAMs cut in, and more digimon hurled from the sky, as if they were rag dolls with their stuffing torn out. Behind them other fighter squadrons, F-16s, F-18s and F-14s from wherever they had managed to escape from, began to tear their way into the battle zone.
Raptor Lead, this is Imperial Base. Heads up, we're coming in. Beta Wing, ride herd on the wagons! Alpha Wing, take out that formation at three o'clock high. Gamma, Delta, break and attack! Winters smiled an ugly smile, and tore his fighter up, and the horde floating there, disorganized, demoralized, stung by these little killer minnows, looked up with confused eyes and saw, for the first time, an enemy they recognized.
Mega Crusher! ImperialDramon flamed, and a brilliant ball of white energy blasted out of his open jaws. Behind that awful display of power two groups of a hundred flying digimon broke their careful formation and dove to the attack, screaming their own battle cries, the eyes of the digidestined on their backs cold and tense. Moments later the sky was a mass of continuing explosions as dogfights twisted all over the sky. Bodies screamed through the air, screaming battle cries that were a mixture of exhilaration and pure terror as newbies and veterans mixed it up in the largest air battle ever fought in the United States. Behind them, the threads of destiny were shifting, and in the distance, the sun was starting to rise above the chaos of battle. So did Winter's voice.
Wagon Train, this is Raptor Lead. The coast is as clear as it's going to get. So get moving!
What the hell is that? A lieutenant looked up at the sky even as he skewered a Bakemon on the edge of his bayonet. That sound suddenly deafened even them, and the fireworks overhead indicated that something interesting was definitely happening up there. The digimon they were charging suddenly showed some signs of consternation, suddenly turned around and retreated, leaving only the blackness behind. Soldiers widened their eyes in surprise as their enemies suddenly blurred and disappeared backwards, as if running away. A moment ago they had been fighting for their lives, but now they were alone, listening to the battle overhead, and a sudden roar that broke through even the sounds of combat.
And then the sky filled again with something new. Hundreds of helicopters, mostly military in drab gray and green paint, but some police choppers, and some still bearing the logos of the news stations they had been appropriated from, hove into view. They paused, a difficult thing for any formation of helicopters moving as tightly as this one, depending on the surprise of their sudden appearance to keep them safe. From each helicopter a rope or a rope ladder descended downward, and suddenly the world was filled with people sliding down. Soldiers wearing both army and marine insignia, carrying their own rifles and packs on their backs, or packs of equipment. Heavy weapons troopers with their massive rocket launchers and mortars. Medics with their kits and sappers with their explosives slid down as well, accompanied by anyone else who could carry a rifle and fit in the first wave of helicopters. And with them came hundreds of children and teenagers, each one carrying a digimon in their arms, hitting the ground and running forward, digimon transforming as they did. In a moment there was a solid wave of men, equipment and digimon hitting the ground, and Hayes watched all of it with an open mouth, and the expression of a kid watching the pile of loot under the tree on Christmas morning.
Michael looked up dully, his mind blunted by the experiences, only to find himself looking into Yolei's smiling face.
Sorry we're late Michael. She apologized.
We held the line. Hayes whispered, and the cheering began.