CHAPTER III: Princess and the Patriots
August 1961, A.D.
"Alright, I have got the files, notes, and memorandums. Perfect, I'm all ready for the meeting that I'm already late to." Adam Rogers says.
He was quickly walking down the halls of the White House to the Cabinet Room. The National Security Council was called for a meeting with regard to the events that took place at the Nevada National Security Sites two days ago. Originally, the problem was just a breach in security and a bunch of hoodlums trespassing. However, it grew to a larger issue after military police and scientists further evaluated the mysterious structure and what was inside, or rather on the other side.
Adam reaches the Cabinet Room and discovers that the meeting had already begun. The room goes quiet as President Richard Dirrel motions everyone to stop talking.
"Alright everyone, before we continue this meeting further, I'd like to welcome Adam Rogers, Director of the Bureau of Unexplained Phenomena. His department is in charge of investigating the sudden appearance of and how the structure in Nevada appeared after a nuclear blast. Please be seated."
Adam takes a seat and spreads out his papers.
"So, now that we are all here, we can finally get down to business." Dirrel motions to aides, and they close the blinds to the room. A slide projector is turned on, and a presentation appears. Adam stands from his seat and moves to the projector. He clears his throat before starting.
"As far as we know, this is the chain of events that led to the appearance of the structure, and our first contact with the people from within."
"People from within?"
"Yes. After careful observation and further investigation of the structure, it appears to be some otherworldly dimension, providing a tunnel of sorts from our world to another. But, we will get to that later. At exactly 0530 local time, the final approval for the nuclear test was given, and all personnel were prepared for the detonation of Operation Hardtack III - Cider…"
"So what do you think?"
"I don't even have a clue to what the proper course of action is."
President Dirrel leans on his desk and ponders the many questions that were brought up during the meeting. He also ponders the facts that were given.
While he thinks, Director Rogers, Secretary of State Bill Harvey, Secretary of Defense Mike Lawson, and General of the Joint chiefs of Staff Grayson Parker, all wait on the couches in the Oval Office.
"What of the public? Has anything leaked out?"
"We have ensured that the public is in the dark. The only thing we have released is the fact that a nuclear bomb was detonated, and that we are encountering some computer equipment malfunctions, which explains why we are moving in more personnel to the NNSS. However, there are still concerns of security."
"What risks do we have on the table?"
General Parker stands and starts to pace around, swirling the ice in his glass of bourbon.
"We currently have a structure, called the 'Gate', according to our new guests. We have completely secured our side of the structure with reinforced support from the base's Air Police, but we do not know what else could be on the other side. We only allowed a pair of scientists and armed guards to cross through and take a few photographs."
"What were they able to find on the other side?"
"Just long rolling hills and grassy plains. Then, they spotted a massive military unit on one of the hills. The picture we were able to acquire gives us an estimate of about 50,000 or so. We couldn't get closer without violating international law or putting them in harms way, so we ordered our men back."
"So they send a battalion of cavalry acting as a political envoy, and then build up a small army on the other side. It makes no sense. It feels like they are pulling a fast one on us."
The room goes quiet after Dirrel speaks. Secretary Harvey stands and moves over to the desk.
"Dick, if I may. I think we should take them up on their political offer. I had one of our ambassadors fly out to Nevada to speak with them, and after careful translation, it seems that they wish to ask us a favor."
"A favor?"
Harvey pulls out a letter from his suit jacket and starts to read.
"Mr. Secretary,
After a decent and well versed conversation in Latin with our guests from the strange structure, they have made a peculiar request. Our primary guest, Princess Pina Co Lada of the Saderan Empire, requests a formal meeting of friendship with the President of the United States. While she would not tell me the reasoning behind the proposed meeting, I feel that it would be best to welcome them to Washington D.C. as formal guests. They do not appear to be dangerous, and have a slight hint of desperation in their plea. I give my recommended approval for further meetings with them, and leave the decision to the Office of the Secretary of State, and the Office of the President of the United States of America.
Signed,
Ambassador Reynolds."
Harvey places the letter in front of Dirrel and steps back. Dirrel continues to think about what was said and also how things should proceed. A hint of curiosity comes to the back of his mind, and it starts to grow.
"Alright, I want you to make the arrangements. I want you to go personally, Harvey, since you speak their language of Latin. But I want it done low-profile. As soon as they are decontaminated and rehydrated, I want them on a direct flight from Nevada to Andrews."
"The entire battalion of them, sir?"
"Allow her to bring with her any guards and aides she wishes, just ensure that they won't overcrowd a jet or draw too much attention. General Parker, ensure they are treated the best by our military personnel, and ensure they are given the best possible Air Force aircraft for comfort."
"Yes sir. I will get our guests here as soon as we are able to."
"Good. It is time that we meet these people from another world."
Early Summer, Year 687, Second Age
"We must be really desperate if we are to partake upon this kind of journey."
Prince Zorzal expresses his concern while on his horse. A few days after Pina was dispatched as the Imperial Envoy to the other side of the Gate, his father Molt, dispatched him on a separate envoy mission to gain more allies in the war against the orcs. However, Zorzal feared that his father might have overstepped on this decision.
He departed the Imperial capital with his own legion of soldiers, and was on his way to try to request aid from the warrior bunny tribes from the east. It was a three-week journey, and even if they made it, it would be difficult to convince the tribes to come to their aid.
"Your majesty, while it may seem like an impossible alliance, I feel that your father's decision is the correct one. The more allies we have in this war, guarantees the future of the Empire." Commander Herm Fule Maio says.
"Yes, however, the thing I fear is that he is acting irrationally."
"Irrationally, sir?"
"I have fought in battle with these orcs from the north. While they are fierce warriors, they are not as strong as the reports make them out to be. Their only strength is in their numbers. If the Imperial Army can amass more soldiers, we could march north and liberate Telta and the High Elves's kingdoms."
"But where would we get the manpower? We have already sent out conscription notices throughout the Empire, and at most we have a total of 800,000 soldiers that are ready for battle. The reports from the north state that the orcs number close to a million, with many more unseen,"
"Why not conscript the Allied Kingdoms?"
"You were not at the Imperial Senate meeting last week, but the allied Kingdoms have already committed to building up their armies. By the end of the summer, they will be able to amass 100,000 soldiers. Not nearly enough men to take on the orcs." Commander Mudra Sorex says.
"Damn. What about the High Elves? How many soldiers do they possess?"
"The combined strength was estimated to be roughly 100,000 at the beginning of the war. Their current strength is uncertain, though, our reinforcing armies report that the elves have roughly 60,000 able-bodied soldiers left."
"So if we were to amass in a large final battle with all of our allies, we wouldn't even have a million?"
"Yes, sir."
Zorzal lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. He looks out at the plains ahead of them. He could see nothing but rolling hills, a few homesteads, and the trail that they were on.
"Your majesty, what is the strategy to gain the trust of the warrior bunnies? The last time we encountered them formally was 20 years before the current war. The only time we see their kind is a few outcasts or adventurers that reside in our towns." Commander Marquis Calasta brings up.
"Our first objective is to find them. We are relying on maps from 100 years ago. While it may have taken our ancestors three weeks to reach them, it may be longer until we are able to establish any formal meetings."
"Then what will we do?"
"Pray they don't shred our legion to piecemeal. We must be ready for battle, but must try to avoid it at all costs."
August 1961, A.D.
Pina paces back and forth discomforted. It had been three days since she and her knights had crossed the Gate, and now appeared to be prisoners. After breaking the language barrier with some people of this world, they found out that they were in danger from an invisible disease that would kill them if they didn't leave the desert. They were forced to be washed by men in strange head-to-toe garments. They also were forced to give up their armor and weapons so that they could be cleaned.
They were provided with apparel from this world. White garments with green trousers and jackets, as well as black boots and brass-buckled belts. It was strange clothing, but after they arrived to a strange town, it turned out to be a military fortress. The soldiers that were there all wore the same thing as them, but with more distinctive features and colored markings sewn to the clothes.
Their observations would be cut short, as they were confined to a large steel structure with large doors. There, she was concerned that they would be taken advantage of.
"Your highness, you should really calm down. The translators said that we are being sheltered here as they don't have other buildings to provide accommodations for us." Grey says, keeping pace with her.
"I want to believe them, but if we are being provided accommodations, then why are we being held here?" She says before glancing over at the entrance.
Men in sand colored uniforms with a white headdress were guarding the doors. They had no swords, but had belts with black batons, and a leather sheath for a small steel apparatus she assumed was a dangerous weapon.
"I assume they are holding us here as they might consider us a threat. After all, we did show up with five hundred cavalry."
"Yes, but after they took our armor and weapons, they killed our horses. Which means we can't go very far or fight as well as we could."
"They said that the sickness would have made the beasts suffer."
"What sickness? I think it is a lie. The strange men out in the desert didn't shed their clothes or force each other to bathe. They might be making things up."
They pace around a few more minutes before a loud clanging sound is heard. They watch as the massive doors to the structure open and daylight pours in. Outside, they are shocked to see several men, dressed in the military uniforms, as well as ones dressed in black, gray, and dark blue attire. They were standing in front of two large metal contraptions, that almost looked like birds. They were painted blue, white, and silver.
"What is that thing?" Pina asks as she makes her way toward the open doors. Her knights follow.
"That, is a Boeing VC-137 passenger jet, derived from the Boeing 707. It is special transport that will take you and a select number of your people to our nation's capital, Washington D.C." A man in black says as she approaches the doors.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Secretary of State Bill Harvey. I am here to welcome you to the United States of America as guests, though I wish it was under better circumstances." He walks up to Pina and offers her his hand.
"Uh, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Princess Pina Co Lada of the Saderan Empire. Forgive me, I don't understand your customs of greeting."
"My apologies. I was offering for you to shake my hand. It is a primary way of greetings in our country."
She offers him her hand and he takes it. He gives it a firm shake before letting it go and returning his hand to his side.
"May I ask why we were confined to this, strange metal structure?"
"I would like to apologize for any ill-treatment that may have been perceived. You see, your arrival happened to occur in the center of one of our military test sites, and you were exposed to potentially lethal doses of radiation. However, thanks to the quick thinking of our airmen, they provided you and your escort with our anti-radiation pills. It is a medication developed about five years ago to battle the effects of radioactive fallout from nuclear weapons."
"Radioactive fallout?"
"It is a long explanation, that I would be happy to discuss with you in the air. However, we are only able to take you and thirty of your group with us to our capital. Those who remain behind will be provided better accommodations until you return. Please select your companions now, and we can be on our way. I will be waiting by the planes. Oh, before I forget. Your armor, clothes, and weapons are in those wooden crates over there. They are decontaminated and are ready to be worn again."
Harvey walks away and Pina turns to Grey, Hamilton, and Norma.
"Alright. While I don't like the idea of only thirty guards, it is better than nothing. I want Grey, Beefeater, and Bozes to remain behind to maintain the Rose Order. Hamilton, Panache, and Norma, I want you to come along, and bring nine of the best knights each. Get your armor on, and we will meet up with the secretary."
"As you wish, your highness."
One Week Later
"And coming into turn four, we have car number 26, driven by Leadfoot Miller!" The announcer says.
A crowd of soldiers, families, and local farmers and ranchers gather around a crudely made racetrack. Using a rented grader and bulldozer, a group of local businessmen decided to put some cash together to create an unofficial NASCAR track for personal use. It grew in popularity, and soon it was a staple of many people's Friday afternoons and evenings.
Located on a family farm just a few miles away from a newly established military installation, a big race to finish the month's season was taking place, and drivers from all over the state were in the race. The 1st place prize was 1,000 dollars in cash. With the cash prize on the line and no official race rules, many knew the race would be wild.
"Leadfoot Miller slides into second place right behind Tailwind Tim. He is closing in, with just five laps to go! It is still anyone's race!"
Chris recovers his car from the pass. After a 200 lap race, all the cars had worn down the carefully graded track. With the track in terrible conditions, the 1st place position was constantly changing with cars spinning out. Chris wanted to take advantage of that.
"Miller come in. You have to pass this guy if you want to win!" The radio in his car crackles. A few of Chris's fellow lieutenants, soldiers, and friends were all in the pit lane trying to encourage him and give advice. They had taken an old radio out of a jeep and installed it in his car to communicate with him.
"I know that. It is really hard to do so with this road and this guy on my ass!"
"You've got Harry Jacobson on your tail. His car is starting to smoke. Just keep on the gas and don't let him do what he did to ya last week."
Chris thinks back to last week's race. He and Jacobson were neck and neck on the last lap. Jacobson blew a tire and swerved into him, causing both cars to careen into the outside wall. Both cars were totaled, and allowed Tailwind Tim to win the race.
He shakes the thought out of his head and refocuses on the race. He watches as Tim's car gets closer, and as Jacobson's closes in behind. He moves to go around Tim and starts to pass. As he does so, he passes the finish line where the flag being waved was a white one. Last lap.
"Miller, watch out!"
Chris looks over at Tim to watch him swerve towards him. He hits the brakes, allowing Tim to veer off the track in front of him into the center field, spinning out into the grass with a burst tire. Chris feels a jolt in the back of his car as Jacobson impacts the rear bumper. He steps on the gas and starts to get away from Jacobson.
"Come on, almost there!"
The cars round turn three and Jacobson's car moves to pass. Both cars reach turn four and come side-by-side. They straighten out and gun it for the checkered flag. Chris grits his teeth as his rpm gauge maxes out. He glances over at Johnson's car. The front tire wobbles and completely sheers off. Johnson's car careens into Chris's and both spin out on the final stretch. Chris's car finds a hole in the track's dirt, and it causes it to go airborne.
"Miller!"
The crowd rises to their feet as miller's car hits the dirt hard and starts to barrel roll down the track. It clears the checkered flag, and comes to a rest upright in the dirt. Chris's team, as well as members of the crowd, rush to the car. Expecting to find the worst, they run to the driver's side window, just to find Chris smiling.
"So, do I get the thousand bucks?"
"You are one crazy son of a bitch."
"Hey, I won the race, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but you almost made it the last thing you ever did."
Miller wipes sweat from his face and neck. He had changed out of his racing clothes and into a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. His friend, Joel Kelly shakes his head in disbelief at Chris brushing off the near-death experience as if it was nothing.
"At least I would have died doing something I like doing. Besides, the cash we just made. Woo-hoo, it was totally worth it."
"Breaking your neck just to earn two months' salary doesn't exactly sound like it was worth it."
"Oh quit being a downer. Just celebrate the fact that I can participate in next week's race. Hell, I'll even cut you in next week. We'll start splitting the winnings 50/50 for next month's season."
Joel shakes his head before walking to the parking area.
"I'll see ya tomorrow at the fishin' spot Chris. Try not to crash your own car before getting home."
Chris waves to his friend before turning around. His grin fades as Mr. Mason, his car sponsor, walks up to him.
"Oh boy."
"There he is, the man who just won me 10,000 dollars!"
Chris relaxes from expecting a chewing out.
"I did what sir?"
"The race. Every month's finishing race, we all place bets on who is gonna win the race. As always, I bet that you would win. You didn't let me down. I'm proud of you!" Mr. Mason says while grabbing Chris around the shoulder.
"Thank you sir. Sorry I crashed your car. I honestly thought you'd be more upset about that."
"Not at all, son. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a little to get a lot in life. Besides, the car only cost me 700 bucks. Say, I have a business proposition for you. How about after you finish your remaining years serving in the army, why don't you and I start an official race team together?"
"Like an official NASCAR team?"
"Yeah. By the time your years are up, and these weekend races put more experience under your belt, you could be on your way to professional racing. Just think, you could be the next man that beats Fireball Roberts in the World 600. Waddaya say?"
"Sure sounds great sir. I do love racing, so I'll definitely give it some thought."
"Well, you've got plenty of time to do so. For now, keep up the good work, keep our country safe, and enjoy your winnings. Have a good night and see ya next week."
"Thank you sir."
Chris locks the front door of his home and walks to the kitchen. He opens the icebox and grabs a soda. After popping off the soda cap and taking a swig, he reaches into one of his cabinets and pulls out an envelope. He pulls out a large amount of cash and a little notecard with the total amount.
"Alright, after this race, the total is now up to, 20,000 dollars. Perfect."
He inserts the cash back into the envelope before sticking it back into his cabinet. He moves to the living room to watch some television. Before he does, the phone rings. He moves over and picks it up.
"Hello, this is Lieutenant Miller speaking, who is calling please?"
"Lieutenant Miller, this is Captain Henderson. I know its late, and you just nearly broke your back racing again."
'Ugh, did those losers at the race rat me out again to the captain?' Chris thinks.
"Yes sir, how may I help you?"
"I just got new temporary orders for you. You are to report to Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas Nevada in three days."
"Roger that sir. May I ask what the nature of the orders are?"
"It is something we cannot discuss over the phone. I need you to swing by my office tomorrow to pick up a copy of the orders and your train tickets. I'd suggest you start packing as soon as you can."
"Yes sir. Is there anything else?"
"Not for now. Goodbye."
The line cuts, and Chris hangs up. He sits down in his chair and sighs. He takes small sips of his soda and ponders off into the night about why they would need him, an Army armor officer, in Nevada. He can't think of a reason, and decides to head off to bed.
Author's Note: And there's chapter 3. I am glad I was able to get this one done now, as I will not be able to write for the next month. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hope you tune in for the next one.