Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th, 2033 7:10 EST
Red Widow eyea smiled, “My apologies Casey, I guess I’m a little invested in the final peace everyone has worked so hard to achieve, invested in the knowledge that all of the truths will finally come out so all the victims can hope for closure.”
A pause, a brief smile from the anchor, then “That’s totally understandable, and if you have evidence of that magnitude, we will be ecstatic to help you break that kind of story. Do you want to discuss that now or discuss your more personal history, as you alluded to earlier today?”
“I promised an eyewitness view of this day ten years ago. So I’ll do my best.”
“Well, where would you like to start?”
“How about the beginning of the day? Is that ok? Do we have time?”
“Absolutely, that sounds perfect. Where did your day start?”
“Well, you see, I mean besides the obvious, with some weight and cardio training,” and Casey interjected, “Exactly how I start every day,” to a few chuckles of bystanders at the park watching the show, as did Red Widow, “yea to burn off some nervous energy. But I was waiting on my father to return from his work trip, he was due back in a few hours, and then we were going to celebrate. So I woke my mother up, so we could begin prepping for the family dinner.”
“May I ask what you were celebrating?”
“Of course,’ and with the slightest of hesitations, she answered,”we were scheduled to celebrate my birthday combined with the fact that I was the next day headed to continue my education and training at the Paragon Academy the next day.”
“You’re birthday is today? Hap…..py Birthday,” and the famous anchor slowed audiably with the habituable reply with the sudden realization of the pain such a greeting may cause, before continuing with, “How old were, are, ah, were, you?”
She chuckled, because propriety demanded it, at the famous anchor stuttering over such a basic question, “My Nan always said it wasn’t polite to ask a woman her age,” as Casey flushed red, causing smiles and laughter from all in attendance, “ten years ago we were celebrating my eighteenth birthday.”
“That must have been a special day……”
“It should have been…….and I guess it still is,” she replied much more somberly.
Tempest Point, November 5th, 2023
Innocent of Riddles thrummed through the rec room as she played Ghost Recon 9, even though she knew it annoyed Hamilton, who was busy cooking a feast of her Australian, American and Asian favorites. As she thought of that, the screen grew a little blurry, and she took three hits from a sniper at the same time her Mum settled her very pregnant self onto the couch, a very enlarged body, barely covered in an extremely light dress that concealed pretty much nothing.
At her raised eyebrows, Amelia snapped, “What? Its hot around here carrying these battle tanks, and besides I’m feeling a bit frisky. May have to jump yer Dad’s bones the second he walks in and this makes it easier.” She laughed loudly but musically at her daughter’s screamed “Mum, gross!”
AUTO DEFENSES ACTIVATED! ALERT ALERT! AUTO DEFENSES ACTIVATED! TARGETS ACQUIRED! AUTO DEFENSES FIRING! ALERT ALERT! DEFENSIVE SHIELDS ENABLED!
“Apex, what the hell is going on?” demanded Amelia. “When there was no immediate response,” she repeated with a milder, more concerned, “Apex?”
“Tertiary sub-routine activated,” came a very automated reply. “Apologies. Tempest Point Base is under air and cyber assault. Tertiary communication channel activation. Incoming Message for Red Widow.”
In that instant, the newly minted eighteen year old looked stunned. She’d never received, “oh this must be a drill. Funny, last day before the academy, I get it. Open the channel, Apex.”
“Connecting.“
The massive entertainment screen filled with video, “Hey, Kiddo, Happy Birthday. Sorry we’re late.” His smile was genuine, if brief, but the blood leaking from an apparent cut on his cheek was distracting, and even more so when a section of scale turned brown and flaked off.
“Dad – this better be a drill,” combined with Amelia’s “Brett – why aren’t you healing?”
“No drill. And I am….its just going to take time.” The video jerked slightly as he took what appeared to be some very violent evasive maneuvers.
“Look, Q&A later. It’s time to work. There’s a new aircraft in the garage,” a deep breath, “Happy Birthday, kiddo. Titan and I built it.” He paused, “It’s got a cloak similar to Alliance 2, although we weren’t done so its only got two door mounted auto-blasters. Two settings, wide area stun or a fully automated prototype sub-atomic energy enhanced 40mm armor piercing, which are by no means non lethal rounds. Also, unfortunately, they still aren’t configured to be fired by the pilot, so you may need to find a gunner when you get here.” He was very carefully not looking at his very pregnant wife. “Livy, I need ya ta take yer Mum, Hamilton, Naoki and Jayson, get on the fucking plane, fly it to the Academy. Ya need to be cloaked.“
“Dad, Tempest Point Shields are up. The base is under attack. We….”
The interruption came hard and fast, “Red Widow,” the name very distinct now, very obvious that the man she called Dad, who was also Ghost Venom of the Alliance, was no longer chatting but instead issuing orders, “Follow your instructions to the letter. The lives in that base are in your hands.” He swallowed briefly, perhaps in pain? “When you land, stay cloaked. Stay in the pilot seat. Some academy students and personnel will be evac’d to your craft.”
“I’ll meet you all there.” For just a moment, his face softened. “Love ya kiddo,” his eyes shifted to his wife. “Miss ye, Miels,” and with another deep, slightly ragged breath and a glance at his her enlarged abdomen, he smiled an old smile, “and them, the future destructive Dynamic Duo.”
TRANSMISSION TERMINATED
She looked at her mother, who in turned, looked back at her with a stolid game face she so rarely wore anymore. “You know what to do, now do it.” A moment later, a grim smile, “Find a gunner, my ass. Apex, can ya spare a hand to help me get some fucking armor that fits?
Tempest Point, November 5th, 2023, Five Minutes Later
“Target 39 destroyed. Bastion 5 auto-turret is on fire. Shut down imminent. Thirty-seven percent of defensive armaments have been destroyed.”
Olivia, she still didn’t really think of herself as Red Widow all the time, not yet, strapped into the pilot seat, “Engage AI startup.” The automated voice changed mid-sentence, “Bunny Moon, reporting all systems green except weapons. Automatic rocket clusters one and two have no ammunition loaded. Defensive flares operational. Chaff canisters operational. Primary turret energy beam non-functional, primary tuning crystal non-aligned. Manually operated side door guns operational, two thousand rounds of ammunition loaded. Non-Lethal stun weapon on starboard door mount operative, port unit stun weapon non-operational.”
“Bunny Moon, huh, Dad? Cute.”
“Naoki – get your slow ass stowed, we are thirty seconds from lift-off.”
“WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
The blaring warning overrode everything, echoing throughout the base.
“Mulitple FAE and Hyper Hydrogen Missiles inbound. Initial strike – 20 seconds. Target analysis and remaining defensive capabilities completed. Probability high that multiple strikes will breach defensive weapons and shields.“
“Hold on – lifting now,” she screamed into the back.
The newly designed craft rocketed west out over the sea, massive explosions rocking the base that she had known as home for the last five years. The only place she had ever truly felt at home, even when she didn’t trust the feeling. She didn’t turn the craft to look, but a tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.
“Jayson, help strap me into the door gunner mount. Its a bit of a tight squeeze carrying these fucking dugs and bowling balls. Locked and loaded in 30, Red Widow. Bomber, out.”
She smiled at the tone in her Mum’s voice. Somebody was going to regret the damage they’d done to the nursery she had just finished painting.
“Making the turn north now, going to circle San Diego, come into the center from the north. Just in case.”
“Understood, Birds, Cats, an’ Foxes stowe’ but still squawkin’ like a fuckin’ carnival road show.” Her Mum’s voice droping into her original think Australian accent quickly as old memories and instincts took over.
“Bunny, open standard Alliance frequencies and broadcast.“
“Alliance 2, Alliance 2, Drogon 1 inbound to PC ETA, northern arrival, 10 minutes. Respond with additional orders.”
“Alliance 2, Alliance 2, Drogon 1 inbound to PC ETA northern arrival, 10 minutes, Respond additional orders, please.”
“Any Alliance Personnel, respond.
“Bunny?”
“All communications transmissions operating peak efficiency. Either no receipt by other craft or no response.”
“Continuous scan for Alliance 2 or known Alliance or Rangers personnel.”
“Bomber, no current communications traffic. LZ may be hot. Scanning city now.”
A momentary pause before, “Understood, Bomber out.”
Paragon Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th, 2033 7:27 EST
All the spectators, all of whom were random visitors to the memorial, gathered at a small distance from the set, stood mesmerized by the story being told, as were most of the crew. All but one camera pointed at various angles to the woman in the black and red armor and mask, the multitude of hair colors curling down around her shoulders. That one camera blinked red continuously until Casey muttered angrily into his personal mic, whispering with urgency, “We are NOT going to commercial break right now you idiot.”
Semi-lost in the memory of recitation, Red Widow continued, “Ghost Venom ordered me to take an untrained team out in an incompletely finished aircraft design, to rescue people at the Paragon Center. It didn’t make sense, not really, because if I sat down and thought about it, there were multiple trainees at the Academy. Sure, some were totally not combat ready, but the Rangers were still there, theoretically, anyway. But I was too excited, at least until a dozen of what were essentially baby nukes hit Tempest Point. And yes, I know they weren’t true nuclear weapons. Back then I only knew of two groups who knew where Tempest Point was located, or more specifically that it housed the Alliance HQ, Martial Law’s Defense Legion and the members of the Select Committee on Alphus Defense and Response, the agency that the Alliance had operated under for the last couple of years.” She paused, “Of course, I didn’t know that the anti-HSA’s had already seeded Avalon with the mutagen virus.”
A drink of the water, “I took the Fox, the Bird, and the Cat into combat, along with Bomber, all on Ghost Venom’s orders. It doesn’t matter who asked me to do it, I led that ragtag bunch, most of whom had limited training for base defense, and powers as varied but mostly non-combat oriented as well. A cook, a maintenance engineer, a powerful but limited psychic, and an ex-special forces medic, plus the amazing Red Widow, pilot extraordinaire,” the last sentence ended with such bitterness that Casey almost didn’t notice the tear that was also leaking down from under the mask before she said, “What happened to them is my responsibility. The commander’s supposed to take care of her people. Bring them back safe. Bring them back alive. But we all know how that worked out.”
Long dormant skills took over as he scribbled urgently on the notepad in front of him, not wanting to upset the recollection that was finally spewing, somewhat robotically, but he had interviewed enough trauma survivors to recognize that coping mechanism. Reciting the memories as if they were someone else’s in the hopes that they may be able to mute the pain.
Written in big block letters on his largely ornamental notepad RED WIDOW – GHOST VENOM DAUGHTER? WHO IS BOMBER?
Crosswook, November 5th, 2023
Drogon One glided through the sky, a silent hole in the atmosphere while cloaked, and any other time she’d have been thrilled with such an amazing experience. Now…..now, all she could see as she piloted the craft were the plumes of smoke to the south as they approached the Paragon Center and Academy from the north. She brushed the shark’s tooth on her uniform necklace for luck and comfort.
Bunny’s continuous broadcast of “Alliance personnel, please respond,” played every twenty seconds, interspersed every other minute with a call out for the Paragon Rangers.
“Drogon crew, landing in thirty seconds. We’re currently cloaked and shielded, but LZ is on fire. Heavy Smoke. Out.”
Two clicks came back from the door gunner in acknowledgment. It was way too scary to think of the gunner as her pregnant mother.
“Alliance personnel, please respond.”
Crackling speech, plus gunfire and screams finally came over a link that should have filtered all but the voice, meaning the battle was very close. “Spyder, take that damn mech down. Its hammering the patient ward. Wraith, looks like the scans show they are about to breach the fucking food court. There’s at least thirty people in there.” A pause, and a breath, “Red Widow, respond.”
“Red Widow, acknowledged, on approach to landing zone.”
“Finally.” In her dreams for years, that word alone haunted her. Had her father been disappointed in her in that last day? “The UDP is jamming signals at a distance, and Alliance 2 is damaged so rebroadcast is limited. Now, listen. Load as many students and staff as you can. Once loaded, transport to the AZ base. Apex opened it up before the attack on Tempest. Fry any communication devices they have on their persons to avoid tracking. Leave Hamilton and Naoki there to help any staff do triage, Naoki may need to help sedate survivors. At your ship’s top speed, you should be back in about thirty minutes. You really only have time to dump and jump. You’ll probably need to keep Jayson onboard as your flight engineer.“
“Acknowledged and understood.”
“Hold,” then she heard the hissing and spitting noise and then a rasping distant scream. “Full details later. Do not board any person, do not let any person within thirty feet of the craft that appears to have oozing brown pus, or brown scales on their face or exposed body. Bunny will shortly have the details and can medi-scan continuously but yer gunner, who I assume is yer Mum who can’t ever let me fucking protect her, will have to make sure they don’t get on board. They finally fucking figured out a pathogen that attacks Homocons specifically, and its a bad one. No one in the center should be infected yet, but that’s what these UDP fuckers are here for.”
She started to speak but he over-road her with his continued flat voice, “Red Widow, once your craft is loaded, move immediately to AZ, and return for more. You can get twenty-five people in there in addition to who is on board, uncomfortably. Do it and return.”
“Acknowledged, landing now, decloaking.”
“Gleam, shift and provide cover fire for the refugees. At a distance,” a new voice echoed through her flight helmet, as Silver Spyder interjected.
“Sure thing, Captain Obvious,” a pain wracked voice sputtered. A missed sign she flagellated herself with for years afterwards.
“James, upload data analysis to Bunny of current status and known casualties.”
“Acknowledged, Ghost Venom,” replied the AI inhabiting Alliance 2.
“Read it later, Red Widow. There’s work to be done.” In her later nightmares, she wished she’d read it then, disobeyed his orders.
“Yes, sir.”
“Bomber here, twenty-three students and patients, one doctor, an orderly and a baby racked and stowed.”
“Lifting.”
She ignored the chatter of love between her Mum and Dad and focused on flying, recloaking and avoiding the mechs blaster fire, and Gleam Shimmer’s zooming power suit, which is more difficult that one would think when she portaled in and out at random. Cloaking wouldn’t prevent a random blast from making this day even worse.
Paragon Center, Alliance Memorial Park, November 5th 2033 7:40 EST
Red Widow paused, taking another drink of the water bottle in front of her, and then hit the “healthy” stim Voltaic had created a couple years, crushing the little patch on the side of her suit that injected it into her side.
“I made that flight three more times over the next two hours, evacuating over a hundred students, staff, and just plain Alphus citizens and their familes. Two hours while half the Alliance, along with the Paragon security staff, and most of the original Rangers fought a regiment’s worth of UDP mechs and other forces the history books so casually label ‘homo sapien militia extremists.’ While the Alliance, my fucking family, held the perimeter, the Rangers and security staff kept up the evac, protecting the innocents and pulling the from wrecked buildings as quickly as possible.”
“Every flight, for long minutes I pushed that craft has fast as it could, as hard as it could go, every second broadcasting on all the Alliance frequencies, wondering why the whole team wasn’t there.”
Casey, who had been nearly silent for the last fifteen minutes, stated quietly, “But we know now, don’t we? They were already seriously infected right? Brujeria, Rook and Titan?”
“Yes. More than that, but essentially true. There are more complexities than just the infection as they were also working on a cure. I don’t really know all the details of what happened at the national base back east. Someone cleaned and purged those files shortly after the attack, at least based on our best analysis, but somehow they knocked Titan offline for about twelve hours prior to and for a few hours after the initial infection. When he came back to awareness, he and Brujeria started working on a cure. Rook……between the pathogen and……other conditions, the pathogen was literally tearing her apart. What happened to her was so far beyond the normal reaction to the pathogen that I can’t describe it, even if I understood it.” Another drink, “So, as they had done so often before, they split the team when necessary and sent the remaining warriors of the Alliance to defend what was probably one of the most dangerous targets in normal times, but in this case was the most vulnerable mass target in the United States, the Paragon Academy, while the most scientifically and medically astute Alliance remained behind to work on a cure, even while all members fought their own infections.”
She smiled bitterly, “Even though they were already infected, Silver Spyder, Ghost Venom, White Wraith and Gleam Shimmer returned to Southern California, to this very spot, to protect everyone else, trusting in their friends, the rest of their team, to figure it out in time. They didn’t know they had been the first target. They didn’t know that Avalon had already been infected as the second target, that the Academy was the third target, with a list of smaller and less well know groups on a list for the UDP, assisted by various government intelligence agencies to hit within the next few days. The plan, of course, was not to release it in the wild, but organized targets, to bring all Alphus citizens under government control. The UDP personnel didn’t realize they were being used by their leaders, although most of those racists probably wouldn’t have cared since they got to exterminate Alphus citizens and their friends and family.”
She looked at the cameras, but gazed past them, refocusing from the personal horror onto the reason she was really here, to gain justice for all of her family, the living and the dead. “The public story is true as far as it goes. And with the conflict that came after, and of course the tragedy of this……day…..but the public story says ‘rogue elements of various government agencies.’ Which is true I guess, but rogue elements implies a small subset, when in reality it was such a massive segment of the government that reached almost to the top.”
“Almost to the top?”
“Yea, the top, or close. The initial evidence is uploading to your site now Casey. I’m sure much of it will be called fake, and the entire upload will be on your site after the HAPP Act deadline at 11:57 Eastern tonight, and sent to the world six hours later. Like I said the overwhelming documentation will be uploaded after the deadline and the analysts can do whatever they want with it then. What I know, and more importantly, what I can prove, is that the “rogue element” top official was then-Vice President Andrew Winfield III.”
The shocks and gasps of the growing crowd were audible even over the cameras, broadcast live.
Running her hand through her hair, “I guess, of course, the bastard should be referred to as former President Andrew Winfield III. The traitorous mass murdering racist bastard.”
“We’ll be right back after this, ah……break,” a stunned Casey Becker said to an exponentially growing streaming viewing audience.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
Last Dreams 