Turn 10 - A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

Jack didn't know what to make of it all. Had they fought off these guards only to be caught by a coupla more dudes at the main door? Was Carter OK? The guards "said" he was released, but could this be some trick or trap set up by the 201st MI dorks? The word trust was scarcely in Risov's limited vocabulary -- after all, if he buys into this, the next thing he might buy could be a bullet in the back of the head.

"Risov, that sounded like Johnson!" Ramsey said. Then with a pitched voice, "Sergeant, this is Captain Ramsey, what's the situation?" Ramsey said as he puts a hand on Risov and moved past him, motioning for everyone to take cover as best they can. He knew that in this hall they are all sitting ducks, but at least if he made a mistake he would be the first one to pay for it.

Bill cocked his head slightly, and a small smile appears on his stone face.. "Cap.. that you? Who all's with you? Come on out of there.. let's get the hell out of here!", a sudden sound of urgency in his voice.

Carter replied to Risov. "Yeah of course it's me, who else would it be?" Hearing Captain Ramsey reply, the young private slung his rifle and turned to sergeant Johnson. "It's them, Sarge, they might need some help." Carter immediately thought about what those MI prisoners had told them about Smith torturing some guy.

Bill lifted the barrel of his rifle towards the ceiling, and took his tense finger off the trigger. As he stepped aside, he said, "Right.. let's get them out of here.. come on people, let's go!!"

Risov shrugged his way out of the guard's jacket, and almost tossed it, but then thought better of it, and quickly tied it around his waist. He hefted the baton, and then to the SGT, said "Lead on SGT, hope you have some help, and some better weapons for us than this ol' skull cracker..."

"Yep.. there's a few more of us, and I think we can find you all something better than a club to use. Hughes.. lead them out if you will." Bill waited for the orificers.

The group quickly made their way up the stairs and out the door of the bunker complex. Everyone breathed a small sigh of relief as they stepped outside, finally free of the oppressive atmosphere of the cells. The former prisoners were amazed as they stepped outside, as they saw the dozens of heavily armed men that were traveling with Johnson and Hughes. Spare weapons were quickly found for Ramsey, Courtney, McIntyre, and Risov.

Suddenly, Johnson's RTO ran up to him, holding out the handset to him. "Sergeant, Dragon 5 is on the horn for you. He says it's urgent." He handed the mike over to him.

As Bill placed the handset to his ear, he could hear SSG Cho on the other end, "Badger 5, this is Dragon 5. I hope you've got your ears on, because we've got problems, over."

The handset crackled, "Glad to hear it Badger 5, but we've got a lot of activity here. It looks like the bad guys are gathering up all the available troops and heading for the Hospital. Figure an ETA of 10 to 15 minutes. What are your orders, over?"

"At least several company's worth, maybe a full battalion. We might be able to slow them down a little, but not for long. It looks like they're planning on finishing this thing once and for all, over."

"Copy Dragon.. wait one..." Bill turned to Cpt Ramsey "Cap.. Dragon thinks the douche is forming a battalion sized unit to head for the hospital.. there's a flurry of activity there anyways. He says he can slow them a bit.. what you want.. but if he stirs them up it would cause them to be extra alert, and we wouldn't get an ambush on them too well." Bill looked around the perimeter. "We sure don't have enough to hold off a battalion.. there's a platoon plus at the hospital, plus what's here, and wounded at both locations.. we can hurt 'em, but I don't know about stopping them.. AND there's a report that reinforcements are enroute.. probably heavier stuff."

"Cap.. I talked to the Colonel before we formed up and came for you.. they have him in 'protective custody' at HQ. Dragon is watching them.. ahhhh, the Colonel was against us going against the douche.. not because they are right or anything, but what Ivan might try while we have a civil war here in the territories. Any way you look at it, we'll be declared outlaws by the douche I think." Bill looked haggard in the dim light.

While the senior NCO's and officers figured out what to do next, Carter took the opportunity to take a break. He moved around the mass of waiting soldiers, looking to bum a cigarette off anyone willing to give him one, before returning to stand next to Risov. He took a few puffs before breaking the silence, "So, what happened to you guys after they let me go? Any of you had to see Smith?"

Risov replied, "I didn't have to see Smith, and I'm damned glad you guys got here. We were gonna whack the guards and try to get out, but it was a crap shoot from the start. We had nuthin' to fight with, we bungled takin' down the guards, and had no freakin idea which way to go once we would get rid of those hacks."

"No worries." He offered him a cigarette, then Carter paused a moment and looked at Risov, "Don't go thinking we're buddies or anything." His face showed a sly grin. Taking another draw from his smoke, he looked side to side, making sure no one stood to close. He had been thinking about his interrogation with Lieutenant Smith for a while now, but had not discussed it with anyone. Then in hushed tones to Risov, "You know, when I was with Smith, he never asked me about the General. Instead, he asked if I knew anything about Umatilla. I think it has something important to do with what's happening." Carter paused to take another puff. "Smith said I shouldn't tell anyone, but I'm not sure if that counts as disobeying orders. You know, with what's going on now."

"Umatilla? Something to do with this? I thought all the Chem weapons were gotten rid of before the war... 'Course", and Risov gave one of his nearly trademarked looks of suspicion, "that's what they told us. And our

Risov thought for a moment, then continued. "Let's suppose there were no weapons there, the first thing that comes to mind about the base is, it would be damned secure, probably easy to defend. Carter, you said you were there right, not that you just heard this stuff? Maybe the Deuceshhh-bags are using it for a base or sumthin'..."

A look of doubt crossed Carter's face at Risov's mention of government conspiracies. "I wasn't at Umatilla. I was stationed near Pendleton, which is a couple miles to the east, up on the border with Idaho. We provided external security. The MP's and two-oh-one guys were guarding inside the perimeter. But we brought something back from Pendleton on an old train. Don't know what it was though." he paused considering Risov's suggestion that there might be a base. 'Probably thinks it's full of nukes and alien bodies', he thought.

"As for Umatilla being a base, I suppose... But aren't the two-oh-one based down in Camp Grey? Why pick Umatilla anyway?. Too close to the Russians and Nazi's for my liking."

"Sergeant, gather up the troops. We're moving out right now, and heading for the hospital. We'll try and avoid a major firefight, but we have to protect the General. Tell Dragon Five to keep them under surveillance, but not to tip their hand. Do we have any spare weapons available?"

Bill nodded, "Roger, sir.. HUGHES, GET THE CAP AND LT SOME WEAPONS FROM THE WOUNDED, WITH AMMO!" Bill took the handset back from the RTO and relayed the instructions to Dragon, "Surveil, but do not engage", then he started bellowing to the squad leaders, "SADDLE UP, WE'RE MOVING TO THE HOSPITAL! SCOUTS OUT!!!" He then turned back to the Cap and LT, "Whenever you're ready, sir."

Spare M16's were found for Ramsey, Courtney, McIntyre, and Risov. As soon as they were armed, Capt. Ramsey turned to SSG Johnson, "All right Sergeant, move them out, and head for the Hospital. Best possible speed."

To the squad leaders forming their people up, "Staggered column, you know the routine people, keep a sharp eye out." Bill turned and lead off with the first two men on each shoulder of the road, heading towards the Hospital, rifle at the ready. They moved as fast as tactically possible, keeping a sharp eye for ambushes and signs of the douches, or other troubles.

Carter hoped his easy banter would conceal the anxiety he felt. So far the going had been pretty easy, just the attack on the bunker. But now the 201 were bringing up more guys and maybe some heavy stuff. It was already midnight, but Carter got a feeling the night was only just beginning.

To no one in particular, Risov complained aloud, "Yeah, now I'm a foot slogger for sure. Hell breathin' down on us, and my 60mm back there. SOBs'll probably be lobbin' my own freakin' ordnance our way. Hellofa way to check outta this hotel..."

"LT?" A form slowly appeared. Sgt. Mazurowski came forward, as a large grin spread across his face. "It is you! Thank God you're safe." He looked over at SSG Johnson, "Top, I'm damned glad to see you, too."

The smile vanished from Ski's face, "It's not good, Top. He's out of surgery, and the doctors say that he should recover from his injuries, but when they opened him up they found something else. It's Hodgkin's disease. He has less than a year to live. And it gets worse, Dragon Five relayed to me the message about the 201st coming here after he talked to you. I've been trying to get people organized here, we've even armed some of the patients. But even with the group you have with you, we don't have near enough troops to stop them. I've been on the horn, trying to get some reinforcements, but I don't know if they'll get here in time. The 201st will be here in less than ten minutes."

Bill looked at Ski, then the Cap and LT. His face serious and concerned, "Ya think we can take him into hiding? We'll just delay the inevitable if we hang around here. We'd do better in the woods, but it's your call." Then he remembers something the little Hispanic medic told him.

Ramsey shook his head, "The General's just gotten out of surgery, he'd never survive being taken into the woods. We'll make our stand here. Have the men take up positions around the Hospital, and dig in if they can. As for the civilians, I wish we could do something right now, but our first responsibility is to General Bradley." He gave Bill a half-hearted smile, "One crisis at a time, Sergeant."

Bill nodded tiredly, damn, had it only been four hours since the ambush? "Yes sir..I understand, but it still bothers me. Hell, we're here to protect these people, that's our life's mission, or I thought it was."

He turned to Lt. Courtney, "Lieutenant, you and Sgt. Mazurowski take charge of the men out here, I'll go with SSG Johnson inside and see what the situation is there."

Lt. Courtney raised his voice, so the rest of the men could hear, "All right, you heard the Captain, find some cover and start digging in. NCO's, take charge of your men."

The Sergeant's started shouting at the troops, "Dig in! If you don't have an E-tool, use your helmets. If you don't have a helmet, use your bayonet, or your bare hands. But you're sure as Hell going to want some dirt in front of you when the bullets start flying. And you have less than 10 minutes before that happens."

"Ten minutes!" Carter said aloud. "Come on Risov, we gotta start digging." Carter looked around for a good spot near a tree or some big rocks. Like the sergeant said, he had his entrenching tool with him. And soon he had the small shovel in use, digging as fast as he could.

Risov knew how bad it was, and that it would only get worse as the seconds ticked into minutes. It was hard for the man to fight down the dark humor welling within him.

Carter stopped a moment. "Yeah, I remember. Thanks for reminding me though." He went back to digging "..... at least some other poor grunts won't have to dig us one," he added indifferently.

Capt. Ramsey and SSG Johnson stepped through the door, and entered the Trauma ward. As they looked around, they could see that several of the patients were armed. Some of them pointed their weapons at the pair, before the spotted the 25th ID patch they both wore.

"Bill!" Sarah shouted, as she ran up to SSG Johnson. She gave him a hug, and smiled, "I'm so glad to see you." She stepped back, and Bill could see that she had a .45 tucked into her waistband.

Bill was happy to see Sarah, and a little embarrassed by her affection, especially in front of the troops, but he reciprocated awkwardly using his free arm. "Good to see you too, Sarah. Not exactly what I had in mind when I said I'd walk you home." He gave her a half smile, "Looks like Ski has gotten some sort of organization going here. How's the General holding up? Ski said he's sick, in addition to his wounds."

"I'm okay, sir," Angelica replied quietly. Her tone and body language screamed that she didn't want to talk about it, any of it, to the Captain. It was crummy, because Angel felt like his question was sincere and he

Probably she'd just bury it and go on, not letting anyone know they could hurt her. Angelica's people had a legacy of wearing a blank, uncaring face to the world that a poker player would envy. If they couldn't see they got to you, sometimes they stopped trying.

Brijalba changed the subject rapidly. "We're ready here to kick ass and give them names, sir" Her bad arm gave a mini-gesture to indicate the armed, determined patients. "You just tell us when and where, jefe."

Ramsey looked around the ward, filled with wounded men still ready to fight. "Anybody that's mobile, we need you outside. Everyone else, we'll put you next to the windows and doors." He looked back at Angelica, "If you want a fight, Private, you're about to get it."

"I can handle it, sir," she said quietly to Ramsey's back. She had handled it already, beginning with putting two rounds of 9mm into the head of the ambushers back in town. It seemed like days ago, but couldn't have been more than a few hours. Madre de Dios!

Ramsey thought briefly of trying to stop the determined young woman, but decided against it. They needed every person they could get to hold the line. He spoke up to the small group, "All right, everyone that can, follow me." He turned, and headed outside.

Angelica stopped long enough to scrounge up her medic's bag. The Captain needed her as a rifle, but it was too ingrained in Angel's being to not carry her first aid supplies. Probably she'd need them herself at the very least. And...

She looked briefly at Sarah and nodded to herself. Sarah was tough, tough as anyone had to be, and there was no way Bill or anyone could keep her out of the coming firefight. Maybe, just maybe, Angelica could 'suggest' Sarah help the inevitable wounded that were sure to be produced. That way she'd be relatively safe, and SSG Johnson wouldn't have to worry.

As they exited the Hospital, the small group witnessed a flurry of activity as the other soldiers continued to dig in. Ramsey motioned to Bill to follow, as they walked over to Mazurowski and Lt. Courtney.

Lt. Courtney looked around, "As good as can be expected, Sir. They've managed to scratch out a few inches of dirt, I guess it'll have to be enough. I just wish we had more time to get ready."

As if on cue, the sound of marching feet could be heard approaching the Hospital area. Ramsey peered into the night, then shouted to the rest of the men, "All right, this is it. Take your positions, but don't fire unless they do, or until I give the word." As the soldiers took cover and readied their weapons, Ramsey checked his M16, but stood his ground. He hoped that there might still be a way out of this, other than a firefight.

In less than a minute, the first soldiers of the 201st could be seen, approaching cautiously with their weapons at the ready. They took up positions around the Hospital, taking cover where they could find it. At first dozens, and then hundreds of men appeared out of the gloom. Not a word was spoken, they appeared to have rehearsed this maneuver enough times without prompting from their NCO's.

Approximately 300 soldiers surrounded Ramsey and his men in minutes. The men under his command looked nervously at one another, and at the enemy, set up less than 100 yards away. A lone figure stepped forward, and addressed the group.

"Si," agreed Angelica quietly. She'd kept close to Sarah during the wait, and that meant she was close enough to hear Johnson's words. "And he's Santa Anna, the thug."

A lot of people knew about the Alamo. About the thirteen days of glory that February in 1836. About how one-hundred eighty men had held off over five thousand Mexican troops in the old mission. What a lot of people didn't know is that not all the defenders of the Alamo had been Anglos like Travis, Crocket and Bowie. Mexicans, as dispossessed of their rights as the Anglos and as determined to win freedom from Mexico had also held the walls of the Alamo. Men - and some women too - with names like Aramillo, Badillo, Fuentes and Guerrero. They'd fought and died just like the whites.

As grim and determined as those dead men, Angelica's good hand tightened on her weapon. She might die, but not all of these MP's would walk away. She reached out with her injured arm and took hold of Sarah's arm, trying to pull her down behind the scant cover that had been erected. "Get down, Miss Sarah. Things get ugly now."

Ramsey stepped forward, as the men under his command readied their weapons. "We're not surrendering, Major. Quite the contrary. You and your men are guilty of murder, attempted murder, and high treason. So if anyone should be surrendering, it's you." He took another step forward. "Surrender now, Major," he said softly, "before it's too late. Before this goes too far."

Off in the distance, the sounds of vehicles could be heard faintly, but slowly and steadily growing louder. Major Matthews cocked his head at the noise, then turned back to Ramsey.

"It's already too late, Captain. Surely you know that. If you surrender now, I'll give you my personal guarantee that you and your men will live. I'll even do my best to keep you out of prison. But if you don't accept my offer, no one here will live to see the dawn." He sighed, and lowered his voice, "Be reasonable, Captain, you're outnumbered by at least 4 to 1. Do you really want to sign all these men's death warrants? This "change of command", is going to happen with or without you. You hold your men's lives in the palm of your hand. Be smart. Think of them."

Madre de Dios, but the Captain was a cool one, Angelica thought. Outnumbered, outgunned, and backed up by a sorry looking bunch of sick bay refugees, he was swinging his pinga like a pimp on parade and daring the Major to do something about it.

The Major shot Angelica a withering look. "Those civilians are not your concern. They are simply being held for their own protection, and they will be released unharmed when this is all over. It's certainly better than getting caught in the crossfire. Don't you agree?"

The sound of vehicles were becoming a heavy rumbling, coming ever closer. Ramsey glanced in the direction that the sound was coming from, then shot back at Matthews, "You mean like the ones that were gunned down during the ambush? You don't care about them, they were simply in the way. Just like us." He pulled the charging handle of his M16 to the rear, and let the bolt slam forward. "We're not moving, and we're not surrendering."

Matthews turned and pointed west, where the sound of the oncoming vehicles grew steadily louder. "Can't you hear that? Those are our vehicles, and when they get here you'll be crushed like insects. Surrender now, and you'll live. I'll give you one minute to decide."

For the first time, Ramsey smiled. He looked up at the sky, and as the clouds slowly parted, a few stars could be seen. He returned his gaze to Major Matthews, "Why not? It's a good night for it." He turned his back on the Major, and walked back to rejoin his men.

Bill had stood to the side of the Captain during the exchange. He warily eyed the Gestapo troops as they took up positions, and heard the sound of approaching vehicles. His face was tired and drawn, emotionless. As the Captain returned to the 'lines' he gave him a nod, "Yep, I think you're right Cap, this has really snowballed. Better to die as a free man, fighting for freedom, than a slave." He flicked his rifle off safety. Bill muttered, "The first to die will be that Major, unless that puke Smith dares show his ugly face."

The song was foreign to her, but even separated by culture and centuries, the feel of it struck a responsive chord in Angelica's soul. It was a song of pure defiance, of melancholy acceptance that they'd likely all die, and a message to future generations that they'd believed in something bigger than themselves. Angelica blinked back sudden betraying tears and leaned over her weapon. Like a lover whispering into the neck of her man, her breath warmed the stock as she sighted along its deadly length. Her target wasn't the Major, as much as she wanted it to be. Too many people, she knew, would shoot at him when it went down for her bullet to be needed to send him to Hell. Instead she picked out another target, just a soldier among the masses of soldiers, no better and no worse than those on either side of him.

Angelica knew she was going to die. Unlike earlier, in the woods at the hands of that man, she wasn't scared. It was as if an inner fire warmed her and refused to let her mind dwell on what was going to happen. She'd be dead and the Blessed Virgin would receive her before going on to God.

Carter looked side to side dumbstruck, the crazy son's of bitches were singing. He shook his head in disbelief, a big grin on his face. It definitely eased the tension he felt, well, maybe till the shooting started. "Don't you start Risov. I don't want to hear any of that Volga boatman stuff." Carter flicked the safety of his battle rifle. The M14 was old, but he felt comfortable with it. He liked the feel, it's wooden stock and heavy steel construction. No plastic in his gun, it felt reliable, and it fired the big arse 7.62 round. His shoulder would be bruised tomorrow, well he hoped it would. He lay still in the foxhole and spoke softly to himself, ".....one sword at least shall carry on, one faithful harp shall praise thee."

The vehicles finally came into view, led by a M113. Trucks, Humvees, even a couple of Bradley's rounded out the rest of the column. With careful precision they circled the hospital. Major Matthews stood poised, his hands on his hips, with a smug look on his face. "Do you see, Captain?" he shouted over the sound of the vehicles, "I told you they were coming! Now it's over, you're finished!"

As the figure spoke up, all of the vehicle's weapons swung around, pointing at the men from the 201st MI. Sgt. Mazurowski scrambled up out of the shallow hole he had hastily dug. "Tom, is that you?"

Tom shouted back, "Sorry we're late, little brother, we got held up. Traffic was a bitch." He reached down into the turret and pulled out a handset. As he spoke into it, a squeal of feedback from the loudspeaker mounted on the hull caused everyone within earshot to wince. He banged the handset against the metal hull a couple of times, then tried again.

Major Matthews goggled at the sudden turn of events, then drew his sidearm and pointed it at Lt. Mazurowski. "Lieutenant, I order you and your men to surrender now!"

"OH SHIT!!! Get down!!" Bill grabbed Cap's shoulder, as he dropped to the ground, trying to get the Cap down, to keep from getting hit by stray rounds in the circular firing squad with them at the center.

"Bullshit," the Lt. replied, then glanced back down in the turret and nodded. The Bradley's main gun opened fire, a short three round burst. The brevity of the burst mattered little to Major Matthews, however. To the lookers on, it appeared that he simply exploded. Bits of flesh rained down in a circle, including an arm, still clutching a Beretta.

He had just about jerked the trigger on the way down, which may or may not have taken anyone out, but it almost certainly would have started an unlucky chain reaction of jittery nerves and anxious trigger fingers. So as shitty as all of this was, it was still pretty lucky for Risov.

After 3 seconds, Risov's left eye started twitching uncontrollably. He wished in his heart he could say it was from dust or pollen or other debris, but he knew the truth, and the truth was that his nerves were first frozen when the fool stood up to the Bradley, and then shattered when his parts started raining down around the group.

"Holy shit, these guys are rejects from the state hospital for sure. Who in their right mind stands up to armor in nothing but fatigues and a rifle?" Johnson stopped, looked at himself and began to laugh uncontrollably, thinking that just a few moments ago he was..

The loudspeaker squealed again, then the Lt's voice could be heard once more, "Any of the rest of you motherfuckers feel lucky, you just go ahead and give it your best shot. Drop your weapons now, or we start World War IV right here."

Risov somehow managed to keep it together. He eased up the tension on the trigger, taking out just enough of the slack to prevent anything accidental from happening. He focused, so that he would be sure to take out some of the accursed 201 MI cell queens if anything else went down. He breathed. His heart ceased feeling like the creature from Alien was trying to rip it's nasty way out of his chest.

"You do that again Risov, and I'll crap mine. Quit being so jumpy." Carter was a bit shaken by Risov's sudden movement, which took him by surprise. He still lay in his shallow foxhole, aiming his rifle at some MI guys. With the arrival of the cavalry it might be all over, and the two-oh-one would surrender. But until the order to stand down was given , Carter didn't move, and hoped no one on the other side had noticed him.

If it had been anyone else, Angelica might have turned her head away for a moment, or worried that the sudden drop of warmth she felt on her face was blood spatter. Matthews wasn't anyone else, he was the tool of El Diablo, the Devil, and his death evoked less sympathy in her than seeing a dog run over. Or maybe it was just relief to know that she wasn't going to die here, tonight, in the cold and dark. That everything she'd endured today was for a reason and mattered.

Wanting to cheer, but too tired and scared still to make a noise, she just lay there on the cold, hard ground in sagging relief. Everything was going to work out. People smarter than she had seen to it. Soon someone would tell her what to do and Angelica could retreat into the comforting anonymity of being a very small cog in a very large machine, unnoticed so long as she did her job.

Slowly, one of the soldiers from the 201 stood up, and dropped his rifle, raising his arms in surrender. Another followed suit, and then another. One by one, the MI troopers gave up. Apparently, seeing the Major blown to bits had taken the fight right out of them. It was over.

The members of the 201st were slowly rounded up, and Lt Mazurowski was dispatched to Hood River to release the civilians that had been imprisoned there. Ramsey gathered up the troops once more, and marched them over the HQ building. The MI troopers there quickly surrendered as well.

Colonel Meyers shook the hands of Johnson, Ramsey and the others, and thanked them for what they had done, the relief evident in his eyes, and brought them into his office to hear the whole story.

As the group sat in Colonel Meyers' office, there was a knock on the door. "Enter," the Colonel said, almost automatically. A nervous looking Captain entered, and spoke to the Colonel.

Lt. Smith breezed into the room, interrupting the Captain. "I think the Captain is concerned that I'm going to try and kill you, Colonel. Search me if you'd like. Handcuff me if you think it's necessary. But if I had wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Colonel Meyers colored, and pulled his .45 automatic from it's holster, pointing it directly at the Lieutenant's head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here and now, Lieutenant. You attempted to assassinate General Bradley, and overthrow the legitimate government of the Oregon Territory, not to mention the cold-blooded murder of dozens of our own people. You are guilty of high treason, and I can have a tribunal formed within minutes. I'm sure you can guess what the outcome of that trial will be. Or are you going to try and deny your involvement in all of this?"

Colonel Meyers exploded, "DOESN'T MATTER? How dare you! I think we'll skip the tribunal, and go straight to execution of sentence." He cocked the hammer of the .45 with his thumb. "With emphasis on the word 'execution'."

"Go right ahead Colonel. But if you do that, in about..." , he paused as he looked as his watch, "...2 hours, this Camp will be overrun by the entire Russian Army. And the only person that can stop them is me."

"What?!? What the Hell are you talking about? You've conspired with the Russians, on top of everything else you've done? If anyone deserves to die, it's you, Lieutenant." The words came out as a snarl.

"Actually, it's Major. As a Lieutenant, I'm more inconspicuous. It comes in handy in my line of work." He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "By the way, I have something here I'd like you to sign." He unfolded the paper, and set it on the Colonel's desk.

Colonel Meyers slowly reached down, picking up the paper. As he glanced at it, his eyes widened. "A Pardon? Have you completely lost your mind? Why on Earth would I pardon the likes of you?"

"Why should I believe you? For all I know, you've been working for the Russians all along, in exchange for them making you head Commissar, or some such nonsense. And now that we've stopped your little attempted coup, you think you can get us to do your dirty work for you. Well it won't work, I'm not signing this."

Lieutenant or Major Smith sat down, and lit a cigarette. He blew out the match, and then spoke, "I see that I'm going to have to tell you everything. It's quite simple, we're losing this war, and you know it as well as I do."

The gun that Colonel Meyers had been holding dropped slightly. "That's not true. So we've had a few setbacks. We still hold the line here, and in the east. It certainly doesn't justify treason."

"It's basic strategy. It's been stated by von Clausewitz and Sun Tzu, but simply put, it all boils down to this; you cannot win a defensive war. At best, all you can hope for is a stalemate. But eventually, it becomes a war of attrition. Each side tries to wear the other down, and whoever has the most resources at the end wins. If it were just the Russians, maybe. We might just have had a chance, but we're not fighting just the Russians, are we? We also have the Nazi's in Idaho to contend with. And the other basic truism of war; never fight on two fronts at the same time. The Germans learned that one the hard way in World War II."

"And so killing General Bradley is going to make things better? How is the MI running the Territory going to win the war for us?" Colonel Meyers said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Two years ago, we in the 201st came up with a plan. There were some risks, but we felt that it had a good chance of success. We presented the plan to General Bradley, but he said that the chance of failure was too great, and turned us down. We tried to reason with him, but we got nowhere. He's not the man he was at Centralia; the war, the loss of his family, the strain of command, they've all combined to break him. The Hodgkin's disease was just the last straw. Oh yes, we know all about that as well. He'll be dead in a year anyway. But the Oregon Territory may not have a year. Based on our current projections, in 6 months or so our resources and manpower will have dropped to the point where we will no longer be able to hold off the Soviet onslaught any longer. The Russians will destroy us, and that is unacceptable."

"The right that all individuals have, the right of survival. If we continue fight this war the way we have been, we die. But if we take this chance, we have a shot at breaking the back of the Soviet Army, and winning this war, once and for all. Given those two alternatives, it becomes a very simple choice."

Smith smiled, "Well, that took a little doing. I made contact with General Musayev, commander of the 37th Tank Guards Division, and managed to convince him that I was a turncoat, and that I could deliver the Oregon Territory to him on a silver platter, for a few minor considerations. It took a while, but eventually he bought the story, and convinced his superiors. I told them that we would stage a coup, and open the front door to them, allowing the bulk of the Soviet Army to come in. In exchange, the 201st would be set up as a puppet government. This is all or nothing, we had to get their troops massed in one spot if we were to have any chance in destroying them."

The gun dropped, as Colonel Meyers eased the hammer of the .45 back down, and slowly slid it back into it's holster. He sat back in his chair, and was silent for several moments. "It's a nice story. But you don't have a shred of proof to back it up. I ask you again, why should I believe you?"

"Well, if you wait a couple of hours, you'll have all the proof you need. But by then it will be a little too late. Sign the pardon, and I'll finish this. As I said, I'm the only one who can give the order. I'm willing to wait here until you verify the results, if that makes you feel any better. But I'm not going to face a firing squad, or spend the rest of my life in a Forced Labor battalion. The choice is yours, Colonel."

"Yes Colonel, that's exactly what I'm telling you. But it won't come to that. After all, it's just a signature on a piece of paper. Nothing at all really, in the greater scheme of things. And considering what's at stake, the choice is easy."

The Colonel's aide, who up til now had remained silent, spoke out, "Sir, you can't, not after everything he's done. You're not going to let him get off scot free, are you? I mean, do you even have that kind of authority?"

Smith turned to the Captain, "As a matter of fact, he does. Colonel Meyers is the most senior of all the O-6's in Oregon, and since General Bradley is, umm, shall we say, indisposed at the moment, that makes Colonel Meyers the de facto commander of all the forces in the Oregon Territory."

"If by that you mean am I willing to sacrifice a few dozen lives, or a few hundred, in order to preserve the lives of everyone else in the Territory, then yes Colonel, I am a ruthless son of a bitch. And so are you. Don't try to deny it. You make those same kind of decisions every day, sending some men to their deaths so that others may live. It's a cold, hard world we live in these days, and only the strong, or the ruthless, will survive."

Colonel Meyers sat in silence for a full minute, then leadenly pulled out a pen from his desk, and signed the document in front of him. He threw the paper back at Smith, "There. It's signed, and I hope you choke on it. Now do what you have to do to stop this invasion. But understand one thing, if you're wrong, if you've lied to me, I'll kill you myself. Do you hear me?"

The Captain nodded, "Yes, sir." He left the room for a few moments, and returned carrying a small hand-held radio. He proffered it to Smith, "Will this do?" The sound of disgust in his voice was obvious.

Smith ignored his tone. "Yes, that will do fine." He quickly adjusted the frequency knob, and spoke into the microphone. "Prometheus 6, this is Zeus 6, do you copy, over."

Colonel Meyers jumped to his feet. "That's your grand plan? Artillery? We've been shelling the Russians for three years now, and it hasn't made one goddamn bit of difference. All you are going to do is goad them into attacking!"

Smith smiled once more. "Colonel, each one of those shells has a warhead that contains a sizable amount of VX nerve agent. 300 shells that we secured from the depot at Umatilla, set in a wide dispersal pattern. More than adequate for the job. By the way, you may want to have your troops get their masks on, just in case the wind shifts."