The
High Sierras had cloaked themselves in mantles of gray thunder. Or artillery?
With the winter's snow, they formed a near perfect barrier to the east.
Verity hadn't counted on that, all those many years ago.
She had been to Sacramento before, a school field trip one hot, sticky spring weekend. It was no more inviting in December. It was only a place on the way to elsewhere. Verity kicked a pebble into the river. There aint't nothing worth dying for in Sacto.
Here they would make their stand. For years their weapons and tactics had been refined to fight in the farms and fields of the Central Valley. They knew which fields would flood and how quickly. The army could retreat behind the Diablo Range, if it came to that. But if it did come to that, they had lost. It amused Verity to think Brumann was following her plan as she followed his orders. Plans made so long ago....
She had tried to leave once, after Alan was killed. To be a normal human being. But she had to see it-
She was knocked to the ground. Verity heard the automatic fire of her guards. It was some idiot with a shotgun doing the patriot thing. She examined her armour through the torn overshirt. Not even scratched.
Idiot.
Sorry, commander.
It's okay. Dump the carcass downtown. Make it an object lesson.
She stared at the river below the levee as they dragged the body away. There aint't nothing worth dying for in Sacto.
North or south? Klamath or Pendleton?
Brumann was pissed. How unusual. He pointed out that dumping bodies in the middle of the street was more likely to enflame the residents than cow them. Like I give a damn. Still she did: for the sake of her soldiers if no one else. She drove to the mayor to give her apologies. She didn't hate these people. At most, they were annoyance. PSM had to hold the highway and rail junctions through the city, and these people happenned to be in the way. The apology didn't go very well.
Jackass!
Murderring bitch!
Get this through your thick skull, and those of your people: you're not the target. You're irrelevant. You can't chase us away, and you can't defeat us. All you can do is get more civillians killed.
This is our home.
And you're welcome to it. We ain't stayin; you don't have enough money to make me stay. A few weeks, a month, and then we're gone and you can have your precious freedom back.
Maybe this time they would listen. Verity doubted it. Too
much selenium in the water. They were all idiots.
'It was jet black. I can't imagine somone like her
dyeing her hair. Black hair, black brows. And very pale, almost white skin.
Sara was very much a whack and blite person.'
-Patricia Metley
wel, its begn; i fainly got me a war to fait. i'm sow exaitd. i wisH i cud tel yuu mowr, but securitij and al dHaet. dHej sejy dHe mejl is goinG to Canada and dHen to yuu, sow meibi dHis wowl dHinGg'l bij owvr bai dHe taim yuu get dHis. luv to dad and al dHat. yuu cn let him cnow i'm cijpinG mai promis.
Ronnie sends hr luv.
Approach confirmed.
Even this could become just a job.
Bays clear, missile locked out, ALS on.
Bays and missiles confirmed. No declarations confirmed. ALS active.
What's the matter, Sara, not good enough to land your own plane?
Bryant....rather than introduce you to your duodenum, let me point out we're both semipsychotic from lack of sleep. Look at your hands. Do you really think you can land safer than the computer?
The plane rolled to a stop.
That was fun! Can we do it again?
You really enjoyed it?
Sure, why not?
Most people would be heaving their guts out after a ride like.
So....let's do it again.
I have to go on duty. Listen, Sara, was this better than trolling the mall for muggers? The militia can use someone like you. You might not like the discipline, but there are rewards.
And, besides, I'll be allowed to kill people.
Yes, my little psychopath, sometimes you get to kill people. But you have to stay in school, and stay out of trouble. The militia will not hire murderrers, just killers.
You sound like....someone else told me that once.
Sara woke from her memories with a start. He had rescued her from the mall and from the motel in Bremerton. She had been discharged from the Air National Guard because ISA didn't want any women in tac bombers. Sara had been negotiating with snap smugglers. Then They decided to keep her anyway.
Too bad he flew into mountain.
She stretched out some of kinks. Sara was aware of the passage of time:
the fighter must have landed itself okay. She wonderred how she got home.
Three o'clock. Morning? Afternoon? Which afternoon. She hobbled
to the touchpanel. A little over thirty-six hours asleep.
'There is no rational reason for women to want to be in combat.
'It's useless to use logic and rational arguments in
these matter. It isn't about being logical. It's all a very emotional situation,
going back to ancient technique to rid society of unproductive and energetic
young males.'
-Micheal Carson