The Gathering Storm Read online

  “Come on in, Chief.”

  A rather short and stocky red-headed man with a handlebar moustache entered the room, steaming cup in his hand. Chief William Hamilton–Willie, or Chief to Adam–seemed laid back but his alert eyes caught everything. He also had a reserved strength, coiled and at the ready, that appeared when necessary. “Here’s your coffee, Boss.”

  Adam sniffed the contents of the mug. Then slowly, he took a sip and eyes narrowing, responded. “This is different. New kind of Columbian?”

  “Nope. Bet you can't guess.”

  “Hm. South of the border?”

  “No Sir, guess again.”

  “Someone’s homegrown stash?”

  “No again. Give up?”

  “Chief, you’re just too sharp for me.”

  “Yep. That’s why I stayed a Chief and let you be the Director. You get to have all of the headaches, and I’m the brains behind the throne.”

  They both chuckled. This private joke had been going on for years. However, both men knew the truth behind the jest. They had survived by watching each other’s backs, shooting first at times, and on other occasions, running away to fight again. Now Adam was Director Lloyd, of the Reformed States of America. In reality, the Tschaaa owned and controlled all real estate, and the Director’s job was simply trying to keep as many humans alive and well as possible.

  “Actually, I cheated. It’s not real coffee from beans. It’s a chicory syrup substitute that was popular in Canada. I recovered a small quantity during my trip to the Puget Sound.”

  “That’s why I like you, Chief. You cheat.”

  Chief Hamilton gave his best imitation of a shit-eating grin, then smiling even more broadly added, “Oh, by the way, she’s here.”

  Adam abruptly set down his coffee mug. “Kathy Monroe? You got her here in time for the orientation?”

  “Of course, Boss. That’s what you wanted. I had to do some last minute horse trading, but she’s here.” After a beat, the Chief continued. “She’s a lot feistier and more stubborn than you probably even realized. She refused my promise of a shopping spree within an abandoned mall or two… Something about she can’t be pre-bought until she hears the offer from you. I’d watch my balls around her.”

  “Huh. I guess I will.”

  Adam mused to himself, Who would have thought that a former adult film star would be picky about her standards in this day and age? The film and television worlds were, thanks to his efforts, just starting up again with regular broadcasts in some areas. A few movies were being made for general consumption. But he had not heard of anyone with the wherewithal to start making porn movies again. At most, there were some nudie joints in the old former Navy towns and that was it.

  Sex was a form of currency in many of the now growing areas of human habitation, but not an official one. Actually, the Tschaaa hoped humans would screw themselves silly, as long as an increase in pregnancies was the result. They liked plenty of food and possible draft animals around. Conversely, those women who refused to be bred were long ago sent to the larders, thanks mostly to the efforts of some of the nastier human minions of the Tschaaa. If you were female, you’d better be willing to at least try to get pregnant. Feminist ideas of birth control were extinct.

  Adam looked at his watch. “Let’s head out now. I want to be at the auditorium early enough to get a good look at the new arrivals before the orientation begins.”

  “Your wish is my command, oh Great Potentate.”

  “You know Chief, you can really be corny sometimes.”

  “Yes, Boss. Helps to break the monotony.”

  Downstairs, at the front of the building, a muscular six foot plus tall soldier in urban camo combat fatigues stood at parade rest by a jet black polished Humvee. Upon seeing Adam, he came to attention, saluted, then opened the back door of the vehicle. The Director thanked him and clambered into the Humvee, the Chief going around to the other side. Adam noticed the troop had a complete set of battle rattle on the passenger front seat, with an assault rifle clipped in a rack on the roof interior.

  In addition to all of the outward armaments, Adam thought he noticed that the troop had an additional concealment Kevlar vest under his fatigues. The Chief had tried to get Adam to wear some kind of body armor around the base, but he had refused. If the people believed the Director himself was afraid and did not trust them, all of this would quickly fall apart. Trust in him and what he was doing was his primary motivation for selecting personnel in what was now the new capital of North America. It may not be complete blind trust, but Adam needed it to maintain the decorum of law and order that remained.

  The Humvee was escorted to the front and rear by Harley motorcycles with old fashioned sidecars, two troops per vehicle. Adam chuckled to himself for the at least the hundredth time. Chief Hamilton had a strong predilection for retro back to Double U Double U Two (WWII) whenever he could get away with it and still get the job done. He had even obtained a bunch of BARs–Browning Automatic Rifles–from where, Adam had no idea. They were carried by the Special Response Teams and even used were all still functional.

  It was a short five minute drive to the auditorium. The Humvee pulled up to the back entrance, where an attractive blond female military member in former U.S. Air Force Class A uniform was waiting. Major Jane Grant, an athletic yet feminine thirty-something year old woman, saluted Adam. “Good Morning Director.”

  “Good Morning, Major. And of course, everything is ready to go, as usual.”

  She smiled. “Of course, Sir. That’s what you pay me for.”

  “Do I pay you enough?”

  “It’s not for the pay, Sir. It’s for the adventure.”

  Adam smiled at her, the question and answer a well-worn exchange. He noticed that Jane had finally worn a uniform skirt and dark high heeled pumps, increasing her already substantial sex appeal. But, Adam had learned from his days as a commissioned officer, not to start poking his staff. It always led to trouble. Yes, his three ladies were referred to as staff, but a special staff outside the normal chain of command. Mary Lou acted as his receptionist and gatekeeper, with Jeanie and Jamey acting as social directors, as if the state was a cruise ship. They worked directly for him, and all three knew better than to abuse their relationship. Maybe if he ever could resign, he’d grab the Major, make her an honest woman, and then screw her brains out. But who was he kidding?

  Major Grant escorted him through the entrance, down a hallway, and to the Operations and Surveillance room. The Chief hung back a bit, watching the Director’s back as usual. The room had a large bank of television monitors that surveyed the entire auditorium and the area adjacent. As needed, it had the capability to hack into other surveillance cameras all over the base. If the primary command post, at the Security Headquarters, was ever compromised, this room would also serve as the emergency backup.

  After putting the room personnel at ease, Adam quickly took control of one of the monitor stations. He used the cameras to pan and scan the crowd of new arrivals in the back of the auditorium. Six hundred, no, six hundred and one nervous–no, likely scared–human beings were drinking hot and cold beverages, eating bagels and donuts, and milling around, attempting to socialize. This was the largest group of new arrivals he had processed at one time. It may well be the last one for quite some time as well. He looked for one person in particular.

  There she was. Kathy Monroe. She was slim but curvy in all of the right ways and the right places. Sure, her blond hair probably came from a bottle, but who cared? It looked good and she looked even better. Bright blue eyes, brighter smile and perky demeanor completed the package that had won over probably millions of men and a few women fans, before the first rock strike. Adam had admitted it to himself, she was his ideal type. Ever since he had first seen her on some talk show years before, defending adult entertainment, he had been smitten with her. Badly. Without the strike by the Tschaaa six years prior, he never would have met her. Now, she was going to work for him.


  Adam also saw his three ladies arrive and spend a few minutes circulating among the new arrivals, then make their way to the front of auditorium. Dressed to the nines, in high heels and stockings, he saw the other women look at the clothes they wore with a how do I get those look while the men tried to imagine what was under the clothes. Adam smiled at the thought.

  “Almost time, Boss.” Chief Hamilton had slipped up behind him. “Including Miss Monroe, guess how many people are assigned here as of today?”

  “I’ll bite. How many?”

  “Six thousand, six hundred and sixty-six.”

  Adam paused. “I think I see where you are going with this. That makes it six, six, six and six?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Adam gave a short laugh. “I guess it’s good that I never really held much stake in the story of Revelations.”

  “Right, Boss.”

  He turned to Jane. “Major, let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Major Grant clicked on the public address system, and launched into her standard presentation. “Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen. If you could please find a seat at the rows of tables toward the front, nearest the stage. The Director will be with you shortly. Thank you.”

  Ten minutes later, at 9:00am sharp, everyone was seated except for the armed security officer at each corner of the auditorium. Adam had watched Kathy on the monitor take a seat three rows back. Some young stud kept trying to chat her up, maybe because he recognized her. Or maybe he was eager for the opportunity to pop his cherry with an older, more experienced woman. No matter. If he bothered her too much, Adam would see that he was permanently reassigned to Bumfuck, Egypt.

  It’s showtime, Adam told himself as he drew a deep breath and confidently walked onto the stage to face six hundred and one pairs of penetrating eyes.

  “The Director, the Honorable Adam Lloyd.” The Chief’s voice boomed loudly throughout the room, not needing help from the PA system. Adam saw some people start to rise to their feet, but others who read the instruction sheet handed out the day before reminded them to retake their seats. Adam had no need for the trappings of ceremony. People already knew who was in charge; anything else was a waste of time.

  Even the handful of children present fell completely quiet. Then again, six years of on-again, off-again conflict and strife had a way of encouraging all to learn the value of silence.

  Adam reached the center of the stage, and turned to take in all of the new faces.

  “Good morning. Hopefully, everyone was able to enjoy a little of the beverages and food items provided. I need everyone to be fully awake and energized, so that they can pay attention. It might interest you to know that this feast, other than those unique breakfast tacos and burritos, were made right here in our kitchens. The tacos and burritos came from the Conch Republic, the nature of which will be explained later. Hopefully, this helps to allay any fears that you will not be provided for if you all choose to stay here.”

  A low murmur could be heard in some parts of the auditorium.

  “That’s right. After hearing today what we do here, about our history and mission, you may leave voluntarily. If the Chief at times seemed like he was drafting you, well, he has a tendency of being aggressive when he sees something he wants, or something I want.” A few nervous laughs were heard.

  “But before I share any additional details, my assistants, Jeanie and Jamey, will bring the children to a room nearby for entertainment, so they won’t be bored by our little talk. Don’t worry, I promise, they’ve done this many times before and haven’t lost anyone yet.”

  Jeanie and Jamey both had a way with children which was natural and genuine. Adam watched as the two experienced women escorted some dozen boys and girls between the ages of five and twelve to the waiting room. A couple of the mothers gave them stern looks which clearly stated, “If anything happens to my child, you’re going to wish you weren’t born.” This was understandable, especially given recent history concerning children.

  When the last of the youngest audience members had gone, Adam continued. “Since I do not like to beat around the proverbial bush, let me be clear; you must listen attentively and understand everything I present. Today is your last chance to have second thoughts, to vacillate. Tomorrow morning, you will either leave, or sign on to be part of a larger plan involving all of North America, and possibly more. After that, only I can decide if you can leave, when you can leave, how you can leave.”

  One could almost hear a pin drop.

  “Now, to fully understand how Key West became the new capital and what brought you here, a history lesson is in order. Trust me, a lot of this will be new to you.”

  A PowerPoint presentation, run by Major Grant, began on the large screen in front.

  “Almost exactly six years ago today, at 9:13am Eastern Time, the first rock from space struck…”

  Approximately two hours later, Director Adam Lloyd plunked down behind his huge desk. It wasn’t the first time he had appreciated the comfort of the luxuriously padded chair the Chief had found for this desk. On days like this especially, when the chair eased the pressure of the burden that felt like extra gravity on his weary body. He still could not really understand why these orientation briefings took so much out of him, despite the many times he had done them. Maybe he was just getting old. Maybe it was because even after all of these years, he still put his complete heart and soul into it, because of the importance of helping the assembled humans to understand where they all stood. And, of course, how they fit into the Mission.

  Adam opened a lower desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of pre-strike scotch. It was past noon in some part of the world, he told himself. He spun his chair around and opened his personal mini fridge, late from some luxury hotel. He dropped fresh ice cubes from a small bucket into a large highball glass. The scotch soon followed. He turned back around, reclined in his chair and closed his eyes, sipping his drink.

  He mentally replayed the PowerPoint briefing Jane Grant had so expertly created years ago. Damn. It had been some four years since he had found the Major and brought her here to be his Executive and Operations Officer. Time sure as hell flies when you are having fun.

  Pictures of the various sized rocks the Tschaaa aliens (called Squids by the masses) shot out of the huge mass drivers aboard Asteroid 18666 always got the audience’s attention. Especially when the following images showed their effects worldwide. Rocks, usually with high metal content and unique composite heat shields to keep them from burning up, varied from the size of basketballs to semi-truck trailers. Their combined speed and mass produced high levels of kinetic energy, causing large bomb-like destruction. The first forty-eight hours, just under a thousand were released, and another two hundred pinpointed to areas of resistance over the following three weeks.

  People who heard the facts of the Invasion for the first time in these briefings were always surprised that all the destruction was done without nukes. In reality, just ten nuclear warheads were used during the Invasion following the rock strikes. And only four of them were of Tschaaa/Squid origin. The remaining six were human-built and detonated. Three of those were Pakistan and India launching at each other, and Iran trying to hit Israel.

  Adam shook his head. Stupid goddamned humans. They were their own worst enemy; even as an greater enemy was killing and harvesting them as meat, they were still trying to kill each other. The United States, Russia, and Israel had each used a nuke on a main Tschaaa harvester ark landing area before it was recognized that this strategy would result in a complete scorched earth scenario. Besides, it was soon realized that the Tschaaa with their manufactured greys, front men, and their client lizards had developed a very human-based Fifth Column movement, using a bunch of sleeper cells of racists, skinheads, bikers, sociopaths, anarchists and self-hating human renegades to attack the rear areas, spreading confusion and fear.

  One hundred thousand malcontents proved just how destructive Homo sapiens could be against the
ir own species. Some knew they were working for an alien race, others did not. But the fanatic desire to fight against the New World Order, Zionist occupation government, non-believers, and other long-perceived “undesirables” was enough for many to not care that a cephalopodan alien race bent on eating fellow humans was behind their efforts at destruction. Hate was a powerful thing.

  Adam poured a bit more scotch in his glass. Squids. Good name for the Tschaaa. Ten-limbed creatures that looked like a graphic novel idea of some Lovecraftean concept of the Ancient Ones. Three to four hundred pounds that were weirdly amphibian in nature, they originally had limited mobility on land. In the Earth’s oceans, however, they demonstrated their alpha predator status. The nation’s navies were soon decimated.

  Over time, they evolved means of compensating for being a primarily aquatic species with their inventions, mechanical constructions, and tactics, borrowing heavily from human culture itself. Falcon destroyer aircraft looked suspiciously like a star-cruiser from a popular movie series, delta fighters were overgrown versions of U.S. fighter interceptors, and cyborg warriors nicknamed “robocops” because they resembled a character in a movie series. Harvester robots on six-wheeled ATV chassis chased people down, and took them for slaughter.

  Ninety percent of those creations and tactics used in the Invasion were because of the efforts of one Tschaaa Lord, the one Lord to whom Adam reported and paid homage. This Tschaaa Lord had studied human culture through their broadcast media to the point his fellow Tschaaa thought him borderline crazy. “Lord Neptune,” Adam chuckled to himself. The Squid had picked that as a human pronounceable name, since Tschaaa speak was a series of whale and dolphin sounds, a series of clicks and rude-sounding snorts and whistles. It was also connected to a bit of an odd sense of alien humor on this Lord’s part.

  Unbeknownst to him, Adam and the Chief had almost first run into Lord Neptune and his entourage of young Tschaaa warriors–including a harvester robot, and a cyborg named Andrew–some five long years ago on Miami Bay. As he later told the Director, at the time His Lordship had been looking for the two crazy humans who were rumored to run around trying to keep their fellows from killing, raping, and eating each other. Such actions had piqued the alien’s curiosity and unusual sense of humor, and he endeavored to locate these humans and try to make use of them.