Chapter 8
Weeks went by. Winter settled in, and it was a cold snowy winter. More snow fell than Greg had ever seen or experienced since moving to the mountains. Sgt. Ballerton recovered from his wounds, and moved back out to the bunk house to be with his troops.
Greg had ordered that a team be sent down slope to see what had happened to the town of Superior. So far, no movement had been noted, not even any smoke from fires. Those had disappeared. It had been 5 weeks since the last smoke had been seen.
Careful watch was kept, and although they occasionally spotted someone, it was usually a lone person. For a town the size of Superior, there should have been a lot of movement, yet it was empty.
Lots of flood damage was seen, but no effort at rebuilding. Also, the bridge over the river was out. This might explain why they had had no problem with people trying to come uphill.
Evidence of looting was everywhere on this side of the river. Homes burned down to husks. Even some bodies were visible. These would have been removed had an organized government remained in Superior. Farther to the north, they thought they could detect a haze, possibly smoke, but they were to far away from the source to be sure.
Greg decided that it was important to watch the Idaho side of the mountain and had a team go up, set up the large military antenna, and now they had 3 guards at the top in constant radio contact with his home.
Also, using the rest of the logs from behind the house, he had a guard house made at the junction of his road and the Hoodoo Pass road. It was manned by two persons at all times. It was a well appointed little guard house. Ten foot by ten foot. It had a small electric heater to warm it. A line had been run from the main house to the guardhouse, giving it heat and electricity.
A cot with blankets was there so that one guard could rest while the other kept watch. Meals were brought to the guard house on a regular basis. Guards were on duty for twenty four hours then relieved. A shelf with binoculars, Nods, and a Starlight scope was opposite the heater. Every effort was made to insure that the guards had all available items needed to scan the distance, night or day.
In space, Steve, Jessica, and Bob, as he wanted to be known by, had settled in for the duration. They had been accepted as members of the station and all had jobs of some sort to keep them busy. In Jessica's case, it was make work. Reading gages three times a day, or helping with actual dusting. Even in space you needed to dust. The electronic components needed to be protected, so she vacuumed.
Several space walks had been completed to finish an additional portion to the station. It was an addition to the science section. Supplies had been offloaded from the space shuttle and stored in it. They also opened up an additional module for sleeping.
Cheyenne Mountain was now in constant contact with the station. Bob generally took all military calls, and answered to the best of his ability. Control of several spy satellites were entrusted to the stations crew.
Part of the space stations new job was to monitor for any radio stations heard, watch for lights, and reposition any of 3 spy satellites that were under their control. Also weather was now their primary function. It was important for ground control to monitor weather patterns.
"Hey Steve! Jessica! You got to see this!" Bob shouted.
"What is it, Bob?" Steve asked curiously, floating up to Bob's station.
"Recognize anything on this monitor?" Bob asked.
"I know it! That's our house! How are you doing this?!" Jessica asked excitedly.
"Spy in the sky, Jessica. Wow, I didn't realize we had such good photography from up here." Steve said.
"Most civilians don't. We purposely never release the good photos. Keeps the bad guys guessing. This is real time by the way. What your seeing is what they are actually doing." Bob said.
They watched for a little while, then Bob shut off that particular view.
"I think we have our landing spots picked out for re-entry." Bob said to Steve.
"Oh? What have you come up with?" Steve asked interestedly.
"Well, as you might not be aware of, the US has always been interested in what if scenarios. One is if the US is invaded and most military and civilian airports are knocked out or denied for our use.
"So for years, the US has quietly been looking at highways and roads as alternate landing strips for aircraft of all sort. We even have tested some in a limited fashion." Bob said with a wink at Jessica.
"Here." Bob said, pointing at a road that came up on a different photo.
"This road is only 20 miles from your home, Steve. You need about 3,500 feet of runway, correct?" Bob asked.
"Actually, I can land on 2,200 feet, but 3,500 is the set safety factor for my craft." Steve replied.
"Well, I called up the 'What if ' roads, punched in your criteria, and this is what came up. So far, I have been able to confirm that this road is still in existence, in good shape and repair. Most importantly, laser measurements show no bad spots at all. Nothing that is outside the parameters of this craft of ours anyway.
"So, having found you a close landing strip, do you think you can drop me off at this field? You will be refueled, compliments of the US Military Command. That should be more than enough fuel to get you to your strip." Bob said calling up another photo. This one showed an airstrip over 1 mile long in the mountains somewhere.
Steve studied it for a while. "Where is it?"
"If I told you, I would have to kill you." Bob dead panned, then laughed.
"It's one of the orphan strips the military keeps for clandestine use. Very private. It happens to be very close to Cheyenne Mountain, and has a very nice bunker built directly into the mountain. Well, hell, it's located on Cheyenne Mountain, you might as well know. I am sure you won't be telling anyone. At this point, there is no one to tell it to anyway." Bob laughed.
"I have a tentative plan with ground control. If you want to, you can stay with us at Cheyenne or get refueled and leave. We could really use you and your craft. Failing staying with us, you will pick up a passenger as well as fuel. You will fly back to your highway/landing strip, turn your craft over to our pilot, and that will be that.
"After you and Jessica deplane, he will take off and your craft is now property of the US government."
"You mean your going to steal Uncle Steve's spaceship?" Jessica gasped.
"Honey, they aren't stealing anything. It's a national emergency. The federal government, or what's left of it is conscripting all materials it needs to perform it's functions." Steve laughed.
"Besides, what would I do with something like this craft? I have no use for it, and anyway, it's not mine. Belongs to my company, and I am sure that federal dollars helped develop and pay for that ship one way or the other. It's perfectly ok with me if they want it after I am through with it."
So Steve and Bob talked for hours and planned for the best time for their return to earth. Jessica joined in occasionally but wondered off, floating her way into other activities. She was now glad that they had insisted she strap herself to the stationary bike and road it daily for exercise to keep her muscles in shape. Resistance exercising took care of the rest of her body, as it did for all crew members.
On the earth, winter had frozen the river over that was the natural barrier from Superior to the Hoodoo Pass road. Greg kept a snow mobile patrol down there with a video camera to record anything of interest. The latest patrol brought back plenty. Besides the normal mission of looking for food items and materials deemed worthy of retrieval for the continued survival of the group, they brought back video evidence of something else entirely. Also, they had their first death.
While taping, someone opened fire on the patrol, and as a result, one person was killed. It was a somber sobering thought. Someone that was a friend was dead. This was serious business. The attack had been unprovoked. It also proved that civilized society had broken down further than they thought.
The patrol had been paralleling the river, when it had come across foot prints coming from the frozen river. They had stopped and were investigating when they were fired upon. No warning. No talking. Just plain cold murder.
Greg was furious, but in a controlled way. Sgt. Ballerton looked grim.
"We need to get intelligence on this person or persons unknown. Was it one? Or a group? The patrol and video evidence shows that more than one shot fired. I make it at least from three separate locations, sir." Lt. Preston said.
She continued. "Observe. The cameraman was aiming at the river when the first shot took out Specialist Abernathy. You can see him fall here. After he fell, another shot hit him from a different angle."
She went on at some length, and Greg was once again impressed with the capabilities of his force he had thrown together. He realized he was actually proud of her as she went on and logically explained her theory.
"Finally, who ever it is knows we are here. We have fuel, equipment such as snow mobiles. Although we recovered his body, his weapon was left behind. I don't fault the patrol for that. They were hard pressed and trying to get away without getting anymore people killed.
"From the actions, I figure it to be a raiding party, looking for food or a place to stay. By shooting first, they have demonstrated a certain desperation, and plain callousness. I don't think we can expect any civilized behavior from him/them," she finished.
"I agree. We need to formulate a plan. Do we go on the offense? Or stick to a straight defense? Sir, I see a need to take this to the enemy. They started it, but we need to finish it, and finish it in a way that if someone from their side does survive, they will know not to fuck with us. We can't let them get close to us." Sgt Ballerton said baldly.
"You make it sound like we will win. We don't know that for sure, Sgt." Greg said.
"I have no doubt we will win sir. I know these men and woman. There
can be no other outcome. We win, or we go down. I plan on being here
alive at the end sir, and these men and women are just the people that
can help us get to that point." Sgt Ballerton said in a matter of fact
manor.