The moment the Trident Republic found its might tested arrived with the same indifference nature gives to all the great moments of men and women. It was a perfect summer day. Twilight trickled past the eastern range, snuffing out the stars one by one until blinding shafts of sunlight bore through the eroded valleys between the peaks. The insects of dawn buzzed, the crows shouted, and the geese honked their wild calls as they flew with great purpose and formation who knew where.
Dawn came very early that morning, but Ellis was awake to greet it. He knew that a moment of crisis had arrived for himself and for the republic. Sleep eluded him in the quick night. He was a young leader for a young nation. He was an infant when revolution came to the old kingdom, and now, less than four decades later, he was its seventh president, its first who came of age in democracy.
It was unlikely that the Hudson tribes now descending upon Trident’s interior had any knowledge of the change of power that had just occurred. Had they known, they might have hastened faster over the prairie to meet their destiny, hoping that the bitterness of the election and transition might leave Trident unprepared for their challenge. In the event, the republic was well prepared.
Bigfoot, the mighty chief of the Hudson tribes, had whipped a force of 40,000 men into being and led them furious and deadly across the prairie, across the Rockies, and now through the great fertile basin of Trident’s eastern frontier. Ellis had continued the policy of the last administration, leaving a small but skilled force ready to show strength where the river cut through the irrigated desert. Their strength proved insufficient.
The skill of the Columbia garrison was considerable, however, and Field Marshall Wong led a brilliant defense and rear guard action that had led the peoples of Trident and Hudson to this moment. The barbarian might of Bigfoot had been concentrated into the battlefield of Trident’s choice. They would face in the wide cultivated valley 30 miles north of the awesome cratered and snowy face of Tacoma. Against the horde, the Trident Republic would send a lone soldier.
She had arrived the afternoon before, and unlike Ellis had slept peacefully during the night. Whatever doubt and uncertainty plagued the decision-makers didn’t trouble her. She was comfortable with her place in history. Ellis saluted her as she arrived but avoided speaking to her that day. Perhaps he wished not to share the burden of choice he carried.
As the camp stirred, Ellis reconsidered his silence. He approached the soldier and she stood erect. Ellis smiled and gestured her to relax.
“As you were,” Ellis spoke.
The soldier nodded. She gazed across the field of wheat and strawberries. A narrow sulfurous ribbon of smoke issued from Tacoma’s caldera. “God has blessed us, Mister President.” She raised a hand to the sky. “Yesterday was weather for an invasion. Overcast. Today we will see everything.” Technicians on the other side of the camp were fumbling with crude steel cylinders, pouring hydrogen through valves, readying a balloon for flight.
Ellis was grateful for the help the observation balloons would provide. He considered the soldier’s remark. “Yes, we’re very fortunate. Tell me, do you believe God is interested in the outcome today?”
“All that is my Lord has made. Even the fall of a single sparrow is known to Him.”
Ellis nodded. “And our republic is surely worth many sparrows. What is your name, soldier?”
“I’m Katherine, sir.” To Ellis’s eyes, Katherine looked no older than 16, but she must have been in her 20s to have completed the punishing training of the Ohio Guard. Ohioans were given considerable liberties in exchange for their grave responsibility. Her hair was long and braided in the style popular in the peninsula in those times. She sipped coffee that morning, a luxury scarcely imagined by the rank and file troops. Her body was that of a runner, lean, muscled, confident. Had Ellis ordered her to run 26 miles like Pheidippides at Marathon three and a half millennia before, she could easily have done so and then engaged in lethal combat with the enemy. Ellis pondered the grace of having such people under his command. He decided not to take that line of thought too far.
He decided instead to focus on the banal. “Where are you from, Ohioan?”
“Orcas, sir,” she replied.
He smiled. “Me too. We’re a long way from home, aren’t we, Katherine?”
It was her turn to smile. Katherine’s face was typical of the people who inhabited that corner of the continent. Her features were a mix of west and east, of Asia and Europe. Little was known of either land outside of the history texts, though progress in the Pacific had recently established trade with Hawaii and Mexico once again. Little was known of the people who lived here before the easterners and westerners arrived, though they must have come from somewhere, too. Everyone came from somewhere. So large a planet, inhabited by such small people, Ellis thought.
He studied her face as she drank her stimulant and took in the theater of the day’s action. A lovely face, he mused. So young. So much life ahead of her, like a vast lazy river past the rapids of today. He hoped that living and giving life was her future in reality and not just in theory. Her immediate preparation was rather to kill and die.
Kulshan, Ellis’s chief of staff, spoke next. “Katherine was hand-picked for this mission. She was first in her class at the academy. She served with distinction in California.”
“Do you believe you’re as good as my advisors tell me you are?” Ellis asked.
Katherine seemed nonplussed. “Sir, I don’t want to appear prideful. But let me speak plainly and truthfully. I’m the best guardsman for this mission.” Her tone was flat, her eyes showing only sincerity.
Ellis nodded. “That’s what we need. Let me not distract you.” He retreated to his tent. Katherine’s preparations began.
She donned her armor. The aluminum plates slipped over her torso, her aides clicking and locking them into position. The steel links covering her joints shimmered in the rising Sun. The patch on her right shoulder bore the flag of the republic. On her left was the mark of the Ohio Guard, the honeybee and the three ellipses. She took her rifle, slinging it over her back.
“How big is Bigfoot’s army supposed to be?” She asked one of assistants.
“40,000, if you believe the stories,” the aide replied as she strapped the radio and battery to Katherine’s hip.
“Even if it’s just 40, I don’t really see what good a rifle does,” Katherine remarked.
A general named Hiro spoke. “They need to take you seriously as a warrior. Remember the Hudson tribes are a different sort of people. They probably won’t understand the significance of the device at first, and if they see you unarmed they won’t be interested in speaking to you. Remember, the objective is to resolve the conflict without the use of force if at all possible.”
After testing and use in past conflicts, 166 of the 192 original devices remained.
“Is it true that only men serve in their armies?” Katherine asked.
Hiro nodded.
“Well, at least I’m only seeing them at half strength, then.” That earned a small laugh from the party. The aides and technicians continued working through the checklist.
“Verify battery cell A voltage and charge indication.”
“Battery cell A is at 18 volts; green charge light is illuminated.”
“Verify battery cell B voltage and charge indication.”
“Battery cell B, 18 volts; green charge illuminated.”
“Verify capacitor circuit continuity.”
“Capacitor circuit is in place.”
“Set master capacitor circuit switch to safe.”
“Capacitor circuit is safe.”
Once the checklists were complete Katherine and Father Paul, Ellis’s private chaplain, moved to a remote corner of the camp. The camp politely distracted themselves as Father Paul heard Katherine’s confession of her sins. She whispered her act of contrition and he let her sins be loosed. They made the sign of the cross and moved back to the center, Katherine’s armor rustling as she walked.
From the vantage point of the camp movement was apparent in the army on the other side of the valley. It was time to begin. Ellis called the camp to a final conference before the action.
He surveyed his staff, the caretakers of the republic. Ellis was the youngest of the leaders by far. He was grateful for their experience but was anxiously aware that wisdom and experience were distinct things. Ellis allowed the silence to persist for a moment. He allowed his mind to still, then began.
“We find ourselves at a moment of opportunity. Our enemy is before us, concentrated by the action of Field Marshall Wong and his troops. Let’s remember and give thanks for his efforts. After today the Hudson tribes can pose no threat to us. If necessary, we are assured of victory by the power that was given to us by our ancestors.
“But that power must always be a last resort. I love all this land and want it unstained by the terrible power a device yields. Katherine, I want you to return to us. Let us make clear what power we command. Let us demonstrate the we are not wizards, but craftsmen and stewards of the light of ancient America, and we cannot be successfully challenged. I expect everyone to do your duty, to give flight to our enemies, and to return. Go, and make our nation proud today.”
Ellis spoke extemporaneously and didn’t think the words particularly memorable or inspired. It embarrassed him later in life to find that the Kent Valley Address was considered one of the most notable moments of his tenure as president.
The device, referred to as a physics package by the Ohio Guard, was loaded onto the horse Katherine would ride to her rendezvous with Bigfoot’s forces. Even to the ancient Americans it must have seemed beyond belief to hold such power in such a modest vessel. In the modern day it seemed like sorcery from a vanished time to the Trident Republic, and like the fires of Heaven and Hell to those who could not wield it. The package was small but dense. It could easily fit on a gaurdsman’s back but weighed nearly a hundred pounds. The horse was a welcome help to ease the load.
Katherine checked her primary and backup radio, giving confidence that she’d remain in communication. Her knowledge of the Hudson language was rudimentary, and she was dependent on the barbarian scholars at camp to understand Bigfoot and his decision-makers. She made a final check of her equipment and shook the hands of her assistants. Before mounting her horse, she saluted Ellis. He saluted back, then to her surprise he embraced her tightly.
“My child,” he whispered. “I love you. Return to me.” He pulled away. “You are the best of us, Katherine. Good luck.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Mister President. I am honored to serve.”
The horse snarled and snorted, its breath cutting through the otherwise quiet air. Then the sound of hooves pounding into the Earth. Steed, rider, and payload moved quickly down the slope into the valley. In a minute the sound of hoofbeats faded and the camp was left with the naked silence of the woods.
Ellis’s eyes scanned the camp. They lingered on Kulshan. He was Ellis’s most trusted advisor among the team assembled. Kulshan was a young scholar of history and philosophy before he became a leader of the revolution at the republic’s founding. He and Ellis had formed a tight bond of friendship across their generations. Kulshan enjoyed having a youthful foil and Ellis found the depth of his knowledge and cleverness priceless.
Kulshan was an expert on ancient America. He spoke the Americans’ English fluently, not the modern ugly vulgarities, but the beautiful percussive English that blended all the best of the ancient-beyond-ancient tongues of Europe. It was the language of Dickinson, Kipling, Churchill, King, Oliver, and Rhodes. He could recite all six of Shakespeare’s plays by memory, and it was from his favorite, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, that Ellis drew his motto “Rock the ground.” As Kulshan examined the scene, he was inspired to cite another section of the greatest of comedies. “Lord, what fools these mortals be.”
That drew a laugh from Ellis and the American enthusiasts in the camp, and confusion from everyone else. Ellis tried to explain the joke. “I guess people were just as stupid in Shakespeare’s time.”
It took over an hour for Katherine to meet Bigfoot’s advancing forces. The delay challenged the patience of all assembled. Some paced, some monitored what little telemetry was coming back from the physics package, some plotted and planned an array of contingency action options, some made distracting idle chatter. A balloonist watched the convergence in slow motion, dreamlike. One of Katherine’s attendants, unneeded now that her essential checks were run and she was off, dozed away the morning.
“Good God, what is this?” A radio tech named Llewelyn was sipping sweet clear liquid from a cup that one of the generals had offered him. His mouth hung agape, in awe of what was happening to the chemistry on his tongue.
“Hawaiian vanilla,” the general replied. She seemed to be reconsidering the wisdom of giving it away so freely. “We’re hoping we can negotiate the price down when the next batch arrives.” She shrugged. “The Hawaiians don’t seem to care for hazelnuts as much as we’d hoped.”
“My goodness. This must be what Heaven feels like.”
“Comrades, let’s cut the chatter,” Kulshan asked. From his position requests were indistinguishable from commands, and quiet again penetrated the camp. Wind, birds, and insects were the only voices heard as the convergence began.
Two Hudson riders broke formation and galloped forward toward Katherine. She tugged on the reins, slowing her horse to a trot, then pausing him completely. She adjusted her weapon belt, making sure the tribesmen could see her rifle, then raised her hands in an expression of peace.
“The peace of our Lord be with you,” she spoke loudly and plainly. “I wish to speak with your commander. Do you understand?” They were close now, less than a stone’s throw apart. Katherine took in the sight of the Hudson tribe cavalry for the first time.
Both men were tall, nearly a foot taller than herself, Katherine estimated. Their skin was paler than anyone she’d seen before. The hair of one was an autumn brown-orange, a wild calico color she never imagined seeing on a human. The other had more familiar chestnut curls hanging down to his shoulders. They were dressed for warmth and weather, not armored for battle. They each carried a longbow and a sword. She doubted they, or possibly anyone in the approaching column, had a firearm.
The autumn-haired man half-spoke, half-shouted back. It was a language completely unfamiliar to Katherine. She raised a microphone and keyed the switch to transmit.
“I don’t understand. Do you know another tongue?”
The brown-haired man spoke a different way. Katherine released the switch and static swished through the speaker on her left hip. A voice, tinny and nasal but distinct, came through from the camp. The two men’s eyes widened as they tried to make sense of the first machine operated by electricity either had ever seen or heard. Perhaps, Katherine wondered as they conferred, they were beginning to understand what magic came from the republic.
The man spoke again. This time Llewelyn translated to modern English for Katherine. “Where have your warriors gone? Have they abandoned you before your conquerors?”
Katherine replied, the translation a half-step behind through the speaker. “I am a messenger and a warrior. I have been sent by my commander, President Ellis of the Trident Republic, to confer with yours, the one we know as Bigfoot. Please. Let me discuss with him.”
It was evident that the cavalry was unprepared for this possibility. They were intrigued by the armored woman with the sorcerer’s voice, though, and they honored her request. They motioned her to follow and led her into the center of the tribe’s formation.
She took the measure of the tribe in her mind on the way to Bigfoot’s chariot. 40,000 seemed about right, with several thousand mounted on horseback. Their weapons looked primitive, but the numbers were staggering compared to the infantry the Trident Republic had at its ready disposal. Many of the chariots were crude, but some were obviously built on pre-collapse trucks. She hoped those were mostly clustered around Bigfoot.
Heads and eyes turned to her as she moved to the center. She seemed part woman, part machine, part witch and goddess. Bigfoot was an exceptional leader of the Hudson tribes, the first who could sustain movement west of the Rockies. Each side knew so little of each other before the rendezvous in the Kent Valley. The two cavaliers held up and a man stood atop a large black truck chariot. He focused his wild blue irises on the woman before him.
Part 2
No comments:
Post a Comment