Part 7: The Psionic War Begins
 
_Chapter 1: An Inauspicious Beginning_
 
 
 
          Later that night, Ron was going over his plans for the upcoming
battle in Philadelphia.  He looked down on the maps and tables that he’d
spread out on his desk.  He sighed in resignation, knowing that he could plan
all he wanted, but until he had some experience with how the Russians fought
en masse, he really didn’t have a clue how to position his people.
 
          Kimberly had come to the door looking for Ron, and she stood there
for a moment, just watching him.  She saw how his shoulders tensed, how his
brow furrowed.  *He’s wound up tighter than a clock,* she thought to herself. 
*Why couldn’t I see that before?*  She continued to watch him for a few
moments, just observing how he reacted when alone.  His mental defenses were
down, allowing him to rest for the coming war.  Others were guarding the house
now.
 
          When she did finally knock on the doorframe, she saw his body
shiver, ever so slightly.  She had managed to startle him.  This was not
something she was expecting, nor was it something that she had meant, or
wanted, to do.  But it told her a lot about his present state of mind.
 
          Ron looked up, and gestured her in with a slight smile.  He
continued to look down at the map of Philadelphia.  She moved across the room
silently, stepping to his side and briefly looking down at the maps.  She saw
some markings that he had made, but none of it made any sense to her.  Her
experience broke down at this point: she had no familiarity with planning such
a large confrontation.  As a Hunter for the ShadowDragon, she had mainly
concerned herself with one-on-one battles, seeking out and destroying psionics
that were deemed dangerous elements by the Dragon’s Heart.  What she saw
before her was so much more massive than that, and she wondered that anyone
could have the skill to prepare a plan for this.
 
          “What do you think?” Ron asked quietly.
 
          “I think... that I am completely out of my depth here,” she answered.
 
          Ron chuckled.  “So am I.”  He looked up at her.  “Did you need
something?”
 
          “I came to tell you that the government is getting very insistent
about us sending someone to talk to their troops.”
 
          “Shit, I’d forgotten.  Did they say where they want us to send
someone?”
 
          “Washington.  They’ve gathered a good number of people there, for
some reason or other.”
 
          “Probably the crews from the attacks.  They’d still be in
debriefing.  Okay, I’ll do that tomorrow.”
 
          “What about the battle?” she asked, suddenly concerned that he might
not be there.
 
          “We don’t even know if it’s going to happen tomorrow.  And, if it
does happen while I’m not there, Lars can handle things.”  She could see that
the idea of missing the first battle did not sit well with Ron at all, but he
was willing to bend to the situation’s necessities.  

          *Such strength, but he is carrying an enormous burden.*  “Also, sir,
the new uniforms have arrived.”
 
          “Good.  Have they been distributed yet?”
 
          “Yes, sir, but...”
 
          “But what?”
 
          “There was not one with my name on it.”  She looked at him, not sure
just what emotion she felt about this... was it an oversight?
 
          “Oh, that.  Well, I thought you’d probably want to wear your
traditional warrior uniform.  I didn’t want to show any disrespect...”
 
          “Sir, that uniform is a part of the SkuggDrakarna.  I am a member of
the PPA now.”
 
          Ron smiled at her.  *Thanks for the support,* he thought.  “Okay, we
ordered several hundred extras of all sizes.  I’m sure one of them will fit
you.”
 
          “Thank you, sir.”  She wasn’t sure if she should say what she wanted
to, but she felt that it needed to be said, and she was the only one here. 
“Sir, can I say something?”
 
          Ron looked up at her, giving her his full attention.  “Only if it
doesn’t include the word ‘sir’,” he responded with a grin.  “I asked you to
call me Ron.”
 
          She bowed her head sheepishly.  “Sorry.  I just wanted to say
that... well... you look very stressed.  Perhaps you should take a break, and
find a way to unwind before tomorrow.  You have put a lot of pressure on
yourself, and that isn’t fair to you.”  She laid her hand very gently against
his upper arm, doing her best to ignore the tingling feeling it gave her just
to touch him.  “Ron, you’ve done what you can.  You’ve done so much for us. 
Take some time and do something for yourself.”
 
          Ron said nothing for perhaps twenty seconds, and she pulled her hand
away, fearing she had overstepped her bounds.  Then, he looked deep into her
eyes and said,  “Thanks, Kim.  I appreciate the thought.  And I guess you’re
right; there’s not much more I can do with this tonight.  Staring at it is
just giving me a headache.”  He placed his hand gently against her arm now,
and gave her a warm smile that melted her insides.  “Thanks for caring.”
 
          As he left the room, leaving her standing there alone with her own
feelings, she struggled to control her emotions, knowing that it was a losing
battle, but not wanting to give in.  *Linda is wrong.  This is wrong.  I
cannot love him, it is not right.  This is just comradeship for a fellow
warrior.*  She kept telling herself that, knowing, even as she repeated it,
that the words were hollow.
 
 
 
          Ron, meanwhile, went searching for a diversion.  Most of the members
of the household were either asleep, or were talking with each other.  The
only one he didn’t find right away was Cindy.  Curious now, he searched the
entire house looking for her, and did not find her.  He actually began to
worry about where she might be.
 
          Eventually, he found her out in the garden.  It was a private area,
not open to even the troops staying at the house.  Cindy, being a member of
the family, was allowed free run of the grounds.  When he spotted her, she was
leaning against a tree, her back to him, staring out at the stars and the
moon.  He approached her quietly, not wanting to disturb her solitude.  As he
came, he took note of some things.  First, he noted that Cindy seemed to be
wearing a nightgown out here.  The next thing he noticed was how that gown
flowed against her body, outlining her curves against the bright moonlight. 
Though she was small in stature, she was still extremely beautiful.  Ron
chided himself for not having taken the time to be with her already.
 
          Ron moved closer to her, his mind reaching out to her first, so that
she would not be startled when he touched her.  He moved right behind her, and
leaned against the tree with her, placing one hand on her hip, and gently
pulling her back into him.  She acquiesced immediately, letting her body
settle back against him, his arm moving around to caress her abdomen as he
held her against himself.  They stayed that way for some time, not speaking,
just touching.
 
          “Why are you out here in your nightgown?” Ron finally asked.
 
          “I do this sometimes, when I can’t sleep.  It helps me to feel a
little less confined if I’m just wearing the gown.”
 
          With a mischievous grin, Ron said, “If it’s freedom you want, why
not go naked?”  Without allowing her to respond, he used his extension to pull
the gown up, and then he continued pulling it off her with his hands.  Once it
was off her body, he hung it over a branch, returning his hands to her now
nude form.  She once again sank back into him, hoping for, and receiving, the
warm caress of his hands against her skin.  His fingers roamed until they
began to caress her breasts, dancing lightly across the hot flesh.
 
          Cindy moaned as the pleasure of Ron’s touch electrified her nervous
system.  She laid her head back against his shoulder, enjoying the sensations
rippling across her body.  Ron leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers,
kissing her hotly.  She opened her mouth to admit his tongue, which slid
across her teeth and along the roof of her mouth.  Her tongue pressed against
his, and the sensuousness of the kiss brought another moan to her throat.
 
          Ron’s hand slipped off one breast, and moved down across her
abdomen.  Cindy knew what he wanted, and she moved her legs farther apart,
allowing him access.  His hand slipped between her thighs, slipping lightly
across her pussy lips.  His fingers softly brushed those outer lips aside, and
his middle finger began to stroke against her inner lips.
 
          Cindy was moaning constantly now.  She reached up to pull Ron’s face
further down, allowing them more intimate contact.  Ron’s finger slipped
slowly into her dripping cunt.  He was shocked to find that her barrier was
still intact.  *A virgin?  At her age?*  He accepted this, and was even more
intent on making the experience a pleasant one for her.  He began to stroke
his finger in and out of her more quickly, heightening her arousal.  He had
long passed the point of being ready, but his partner was not yet there.
 
          While his finger stroked her cunt, his other hand continued to
lightly massage her breasts, rolling them in his fingers, and brushing over
her nipples.  Soon, Cindy was rocking against him, her passion building to a
fever pitch.  She came against his hand in a powerful orgasm, her scream
muffled by their kiss.  He continued to thrust his finger inside her until she
had passed her peak.  Slowly, he withdrew the digit, as they broke their
kiss.  He offered the finger to Cindy.  After a few seconds, she tentatively
brought her tongue to his finger, tasting her own juices for the first time. 
She then sucked his finger clean.  He was highly aroused by this act, and he
knew that she was ready now.
 
          Moving quickly, and with the help of his extension, he removed all
of his clothing.  Cindy marveled at the speed with which that happened,
wondering how he was managing to pull at four different places at once.  All
of that thought came to a halt when she beheld his cock, standing out rigid
from his body.  She longed to touch it, to caress it, to hold it; mostly she
longed for it to be inside of her.
 
          Ron, finished removing all of his clothing, stepped beside her. 
Moving his hands along her sides, he turned her to face the tree.  “Put your
hands on the tree,” he said quietly.  She had to lean over slightly to do so,
and this gave Ron a wonderful view of her round ass, and her sopping wet
pussy.  He told her not to move, and then placed his cock at her entrance. 
Before he pressed into her, he reached out with his mind, muting any pain she
might receive from this first time.  Then he pressed in, slowly inching his
dick further into her hole.  In but a few moments, he was pressing against her
hymen.  He pulled ever so slowly back out, until just the head of his dick
remained, and then pressed back in.  Slowly he fucked her in this way,
preparing her for the thrust to come.
 
          When he felt she was ready, he reinforced his mental block on her,
and he slammed into her.  Her barrier tore with little resistance.  With the
pain muted, she felt the pleasure, and she moaned loudly.  The thrust nearly
buried Ron’s dick in her cunt, and he paused momentarily, to make sure she
was, indeed, all right.  Seeing that she was, he began moving inside her,
pulling out slowly and thrusting back in, until his cock reached fully inside
of her.
 
          Reaching around her, Ron cupped her tits in his hands, rolling the
nipples between his fingers.  He continued this as he started to slowly pump
her, sliding his full length in and out of her at a slow, but constant, pace. 
Cindy couldn’t take very much of this before her mind was shattered by an
overwhelming orgasm.  She screamed in pleasure as her body was wracked by the
climax.  Ron continued his pace throughout her peak.
 
          Once her orgasm ebbed, Ron increased his pace, moving his hands down
to her hips to allow him greater leverage.  He used his extension to continue
massaging her breasts, and Cindy was feeling too good to care where the extra
sensations were coming from.
 
          Ron’s pace grew faster, pushing himself closer to orgasm.  Cindy’s
orgasms were coming more quickly, so that they were almost continuous.  With a
final flurry of thrusts, Ron rammed his cock deep into her pussy, and he
flooded her cunt with his cum, grunting out his own orgasm, as the feel of his
cock spurting inside her sent Cindy off on yet another wild ride of ecstasy.
 
          It was several minutes before either of them could catch their
breath to speak.  When it happened, it was Cindy who spoke first.  Almost in a
whisper, she said, “Thank you, Master.”
 
          Ron merely kissed her softly on the mouth, before pulling his now
soft dick from her warm body.  They dressed in silence, but Ron pulled her to
him as they walked back into the house.  They slept together that night,
making love several more times before the night was over.
 
 
 
          Ron awoke the next morning to find a soft and curvy body sleeping
soundly next to him.  He wanted nothing more than to lie there with her, warm
and comfortable in bed.  But he didn’t have that luxury this day.  Today was
the day that America met the PPA, in its official capacity.
 
          He rose silently from the bed, trying not to wake Cindy, and
succeeding.  Her breathing continued in its regular rhythm.  Someone had taken
the time to lay out his new uniform, and he examined it quickly for lint,
incorrect creases, or other imperfections.  Because of the material, and the
quality of manufacture, none of these things were present.  He quickly
dressed, putting on the uniform, fastening the belt, and then shoving his feet
into his boots.  The quick-lace system on them made it easy to tie them
speedily, and he was soon fully dressed, except for the two mandatory
accessories.
 
          He slipped his aviator sunglasses into his breast pocket, and then
he had to decide which headgear to wear.  Since he was possibly going into
combat, he decided to wear his baseball cap, rather than the more decorative
beret.  He did pick up the beret, however, and examined the PPA logo sewn on
its front.  It was extremely good craftsmanship.  He looked himself over in
the mirror, making sure everything was in its proper place.  Then he quietly
left the bedroom.  

          The uniform somehow transformed Ron, and he found himself marching,
rather than walking normally.  It seemed odd that an article of clothing could
change someone into something else...
 
          Until he saw Kimberly.
 
          The PPA uniform was intended to conform to the body, so it wouldn’t
catch on things around the wearer, but Ron had not anticipated what it might
look like on some of the females in the army.  Kimberly snapped to attention
as he entered the room, and Ron admired how the uniform did indeed hug her
curves.  She saluted him smartly and, though he was surprised, he returned the
gesture.
 
          “You look very good in that uniform, Kim,” Ron said by way of
greeting.  He watched her blush.
 
          “Thank you, sir.”
 
          “Have you eaten yet?”
 
          “No sir.”
 
          “Join me?”
 
          They ate breakfast while discussing plans for how to deploy the
troops in Philadelphia.  Karen and Lars entered the kitchen during their
discussion, both of them also dressed in official PPA garb.  They joined the
discussion, going over tactics and plans.
 
          As the conversation was wrapping up, Ron looked at his watch. 
“Shit, I’ve got to get moving.  Lars, you’re in command.  Get everyone up to
Philly.  If I don’t make it there, and the battle starts... Good luck.”
 
          “Yes, sir,” Lars answered, pulling himself to attention and
saluting.  

          Ron returned the gesture, and then he excused himself from the
kitchen.  He wanted to get this meeting with the military over with.  He
couldn’t handle the idea of his army starting its first battle without him. 
*My army?  When did I become Patton?*
 
 
 
          Commander Bob Maxton was milling around with the rest of his
shipmates.  They had been stuck at this facility for a very long time, and
they were all tiring of it.  The debriefings were becoming intolerably
boring.  He didn’t know what the hell his country was waiting for.  They had
been attacked, and it was time to *do something*.  

          He found Ensign Rita Connelly standing next to him yet again.  She
had spent a lot of time near him as of late.  He knew she was still shaken
from the death of her captain.
 
          “Why are they keeping us here, sir?”
 
          “I don’t know, Ensign.”
 
          “When will we get a new boat?”
 
          “I don’t know that, either.”
 
          “Who’s that?”
 
          This last question was directed towards a man who had just entered
the room in the company of Admiral Duchain.  The man was about 5’ 9” tall,
with black hair.  He was wearing a uniform of some sort, but it certainly
wasn’t US military issue.  It consisted of a medium-dark gray jumpsuit, with
black cuffs, collar, and belt.  The fasteners on the jumpsuit were a highly
polished silver.  He wore standard issue combat boots, and a black baseball
cap with no insignia on it.  His eyes were hidden behind a pair of
aviator-style sunglasses with black lenses and silver frames.  While his
uniform bore the American flag in its proper location, his unit patch was a
mystery to Maxton.  The room came to attention as a senior chief called
“Admiral on deck!”
 
          “Stand at ease, everyone.”  As the room slipped into a more relaxed,
yet fully attentive, posture, the admiral continued.  “I know that many of you
have been questioning why you have been kept here.  Many of you have submitted
transfer requests via the appropriate channels.  Today, you find out why none
of that has been given consideration up to this point.  To my left is General
Ronald Chaffey, commanding officer of the Provisional Psionic Army of the
United States of America.  He will explain to you what is going on.  General?”
 
          Ron stepped forward, still getting used to the title, and more than
ever feeling the weight of the five stars glistening on each shoulder
epaulet.  He faced before him a crowd of thousands of people.  While the
admiral had used a public address system, Ron refused its use, instead
enhancing his speech mentally, making sure that everyone heard him clearly.
 
          “Ladies and gentleman of the United States Navy, you are still here
because you have suffered at the hands of an enemy.  This enemy is not, as you
may believe, the Russian government.  Nor is it even the Russian people.  You
have suffered at the hands of an organization within Russia, but not
sanctioned by her leaders.  This organization calls itself the Filitov
Council.  They are the counterpart to the Provisional Psionic Army, except
that the PPA has the support of its government, and we are almost certain that
the Filitov Council does not.
 
          “You have not been given new assignments in order that we could
speak to you directly.  I know that it might seem unusual for your government
not to put you back on the front lines immediately, but believe me, the
attacks you faced in the past were mere warm-up exercises for the psionics you
were up against.  No weapon yet produced by mankind can stand against a strong
psionic.  At least, none we’ve found.
 
          “What I am going to do at this time is simply to walk among you.  We
are seeking psionics, both latent and active.  If you are a psionic, you
should step forward now.  You have chosen to serve your country, and this is
the best way you can do so.  It is time to put your Ability to use.  Some of
you may be psionics, and not know it.  We don’t really know why some people
develop their Ability sooner in life than others.  However, we do know that
there is a good chance that there is at least one psionic in this room.
 
          “While your Congress has yet to decide, the PPA considers this
country to be ‘at war’.  I will behave as if that is true.  It would be best
if you did as well.  That is all I have to say at this time.  Thank you for
your time and attention.”
 
 
 
          There were many murmurs among the group.
 
          “Sir, what’s he talking about?”
 
          “I think he’s one of those people the President told us about a
couple weeks ago.  Damn, I thought it was all bullshit.”
 
 
 
          Ron took his time wandering through the crowd.  Finding a psionic
that wanted to be hidden was hard, but he didn’t really suspect that there
were any of those in this crowd.  But he knew there was a psionic here
somewhere.  He found two weaker psionics before he found the one he was after.
 
          “Your name?”
 
          “Maxton, Robert L.,  Commander, USN.”
 
          “What, no serial number?” Ron said with a laugh.  Commander Maxton
turned beet red.  “Commander, you were second in command to Captain Charles
Farraday, were you not?”
 
          “Yes, sir, I was.”
 
          “You were with him that day.”
 
          “I was in the area, sir.  I did not see him die.”
 
          “No.  But he saw you.  He gave you something.”
 
          “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Unfortunately, Maxton had
already figured out that Farraday had been a psionic, and he’d feared that the
jolt he’d felt that day was some kind of new power in his own mind.
 
          “Yes, you do.  You don’t have the skills to hide it from me, yet. 
Commander, you'll be reassigned to the Psionic Corps.”
 
          “No!” Rita cried, unwillingly, and completely outside of protocol. 
Her outburst was so unusual that Ron scanned her quickly.  *Interesting*.
 
          “Ensign Connelly will accompany you as... your assistant.”
 
          One does not question the orders of a superior officer, even if he
is from a different, and seemingly non-federalized, branch of the military. 
Commander Maxton and Ensign Connelly both snapped to attention and replied,
“Aye aye, sir!”
 
          As Ron moved along, Rita turned to her superior and asked, “Sir,
what’s he talking about?”
 
          “I’ll tell you about it later.  Since we’re going to be spending a
lot of time together, I guess we should get to know each other some.  Want
some coffee?”
 
          “Yes, sir.”
 
 
 
          Ron spent a great deal of time talking to the people in that
facility, and two others just like it.  By the time he had finished, it was
well into the afternoon.  He had to meet briefly with the President, during
which time he was forced to keep himself from berating the man for his
previous stupidity.  By the time that meeting ended, it was a little too late.
 
 
 
 
 
          Lars had a hell of a time trying to organize everyone for the move. 
The appearance of the news crew didn’t help one bit.  She was stopped by one
of the troops, but her insistence meant that she was brought to Lars.
 
          “Where is General Chaffey?” she insisted.
 
          “He’s not here right now.  I am...” Lars faltered, very
uncomfortable with the new protocol he had to learn.  “I am Colonel Lars
Ohlin, second in command.”  The single eagle on each shoulder proclaimed that
as well.
 
          “Look, Colonel, I was assured that I would be allowed access!”
 
          Lars sighed.  He didn’t need this just now.  He looked around
briefly, and found the person he sought.  “Major!” he called.
 
          A young woman trotted over to him, and saluted properly.  “Yes,
sir!” she replied.
 
          “Major Heinlein, this is Melissa Conway.  She is to be our... ‘war
correspondent’.  I am making her *your* responsibility.  If she gets hurt, you
will answer to the General.  Miss Conway, Major Kara Heinlein.”
 
          Melissa watched the young girl’s face go slightly pale.  “Yes, sir!”
the girl answered.  Turning to Melissa, she said, “Follow me, ma’am.”
 
          Lars watched them go before returning to his work, arranging boxes
and packages for movement.  He didn’t know what he would need for the battle,
and so they had to take everything.
 
 
 
          A hundred yards away, Melissa was already interviewing her guide. 
“You seem to be afraid of the General.  Is he that heavy-handed?”
 
          “I’m not afraid *of* the General, ma’am.  I’m afraid of
disappointing him.  Look, I was trained by a small organization in Wyoming.  I
heard about Ron through a friend of a friend.  I’ve seen what he’s capable
of.  I know he doesn’t want to be here.  Look, he’s younger than I am, and yet
he’s got to take on all this responsibility.  Why?  Because he *can*, and the
rest of us... well, we’re not up to it without him.  Afraid *of* him, ma’am? 
No.  I’m afraid *for* him.”
 
 
 
          It was mid-afternoon by the time the teams moved out. There were now
more than two thousand troops in the PPA, and the numbers continued to grow.
 The plan for this battle called for six hundred of them.  Ron had hopes that
this would be sufficient numbers, but he couldn’t commit all his troops to a
single battle, lest something go horribly wrong.  Someone had to remain behind
to continue fighting, just in case.
 
Melissa and her cameraman were dumbfounded by the trip, which took place
without the benefit of vehicles.  Kara was responsible for keeping them safe,
and so she was also responsible for transporting them to the target.
 
          “How fast are we traveling?” Melissa shouted unnecessarily.
 
          “Beats me, ma’am.  However fast that guy up front goes, that’s how
fast we go.”
 
          “Could you please call me Mel?” she asked.
 
          Kara laughed.  “Sure thing.  Sorry, but this military stuff is
really quick to become a habit.  Everyone calls me Kara.”
 
          The cameraman introduced himself as Rick, but didn’t say much on the
flight.
 
          “How long to Philadelphia?” Mel asked.
 
          “Plan calls for five hours.  We left an hour early, so we should be
there around seven or so.”
 
          “Okay.  You getting good footage, Rick?”  He nodded, still a little
dazed at flying a thousand feet above the landscape without the aid of an
airplane or helicopter.
 
 
 
          The flight was boring.  The arrival was typical, and their welcome
was less than warm.  Miss Conway’s coverage of their journey had been
broadcast, and there were several groups protesting their presence.  Lars
ignored them as he moved to City Hall, which they had decided would make the
best command post.
 
          The mayor of the city greeted them, and gave them free run of the
building, but he told them he wasn’t about to stick around for whatever was
coming.
 
          “Smart man,” Lars said to Karen, who had remained at his side
throughout the flight.  She nodded in return.  He could tell, even without
their special bond, that she was terrified about what was coming.  He grasped
her hand and squeezed, letting her know that he was there for her.  She smiled
back at him, silently thanking him for the support.
 
 
 
          “You might want to stay outside the city proper, Mel.  It’ll give
you better angles when the shooting starts, and it will keep you safe.”
 
          “Kara, I’m a war reporter.  I’m *supposed* to get shot at!”
 
          Kara thought that was foolish and asinine behavior, and she could
see that Rick wasn’t too keen on the idea, either.  It was not, however,
Kara’s place to tell the lady what to do.  She moved them in, setting down on
a tall building as close to the edge of town as she could.  “This is as far in
as you’re going, Mel.  It’s my ass if you get killed in the first battle.”
 
          “Okay, okay.  I guess this’ll do.”
 
 
 
          The troops took very little time to assume their positions, as the
battle plans called for.  Everyone was ready.  Now, it was time to wait.  It
was eight PM.  

 
 
          Ron finally wrapped up all of his business in Washington, having
placated all of the military people and receiving their support for his plans
for Philadelphia.  Not that it mattered, but it was nice to have them behind
him rather than against him.
 
          They’d found a total of seven psionics among the thirteen thousand
people.  He wondered whether that ratio was normal, high, or low, but had no
way of knowing.  Those people were sent to the Psionic Corps, a new branch of
the military forming up that would eventually replace the PPA.  Ron wished
they’d hurry up about it, so someone else could be in charge.
 
          Finishing up his final discussion, he left Washington for
Philadelphia.  It would take him a mere thirty minutes to get there.
 
          It was eight-thirty PM.
 
 
 
          *<All troops maintain EMCON.  Lookouts may use telepathy to
communicate, no one else.>* Lars borrowed one of the phrases he had learned in
the last month.  EMCON, or Emissions Control, normally refers to keeping
electronic devices on warships turned off.  However, it applied well to the
idea of hiding psionic ability.
 
          Kara nodded at the message, but said nothing.  Mel was standing
beside her.
 
          “What are you nodding at?” she asked.
 
          “Huh?  Oh, sorry.  Just receiving a message from the Colonel. 
Everything’s normal so far.”
 
          “Oh.”  Melissa walked off, mumbling to herself about magic.  She
went to help Rick change his camera over to night-vision.
 
 
 
          It was eight-forty PM, on July 27.  The PPA had been settled in for
less than an hour.  Though they had been warned that they might have to wait
days for this battle, that was not to be.
 
          The first lookouts to call a warning were on the eastern edge of
town.  Their telepathic calls went out, briefly, and at high power.  The
Russians would certainly know that there were greeters in this city now.
 
          It was a surprise, however, when the first attack wave came from the
south.  Russian psionics had *driven* into the city, and had made their first
assault completely unannounced.  A dozen PPA soldiers were down in the first
seconds of the battle.
 
          Telepathic calls were flying through the mental ether, as soldiers
tried to coordinate, tried to piece together what was going on.  Ron’s battle
plan was good, but he was an inexperienced strategist, and there were many
holes that hadn’t been covered.  The Russians used every one of them.
 
 
 
 
 
          Melissa was directing Rick, making sure they got as much of the
action around them as they could.  Kara stood beside them, frustrated at not
getting into the battle.  She could see the fight going on below her.  As she
watched, a PPA soldier went down.  Was he a friend, or a stranger?  From here
she couldn’t tell.  She *did* see the Russian maggot who had killed him.  She
focused her energy, and blasted him with all her might.  The Russian flew back
against a building, and fell to the ground, actually leaving an impression in
the concrete structure.
 
          Mel gave her a thumbs-up, letting her know they’d gotten the
footage.  Kara could not have cared less.
 
 
 
 
 
          Kim huddled against a building, waiting for a Russian to show
himself.  She briefly thought, *What a way to spend my seventeenth birthday.* 
Then, she caught a glimpse of someone about to fire at her.  Just in time, she
rolled out of the way.  As the plan called for, she flew down the street,
heading west.  The Russian followed her, right on her tail.  She maneuvered
left and right, dodging parked cars and his shots at her.  *Where is it, where
is it... My God, what if I miss it?  No, THERE!*  She turned a corner sharply
and dodged behind a van.
 
          The Russian turned the corner, and was immediately annihilated by
four Hunters.  The plan had worked flawlessly.  Kimberly slumped against the
van, letting her heart rate drop back below a thousand, or so it felt.  She
had faced her first test, and passed.
 
 
 
 
 
          Jeffrey stood amidst his small unit, directing them telepathically. 
He felt the tug at his mind that told him someone was trying to sneak up
behind him.  He whirled just in time to avoid the attack, flashing a psionic
burst back at the enemy, gratified to see him flung to the ground, unmoving.
 
          He had no time to rejoice, however, as another attacker came at him
out of a shadow, and he had to dodge a physical attack.  He swung himself
around, using his extension to continue the man’s momentum, slamming him
head-first into a building, crushing his skull.
 
 
 
 
 
          Kara could see it all from her perch, and she could see that many
people were dying below her.  There, a small building was crumbling, a psionic
attack that missed.  Over there, all the windows in an office building were
shattered, from some unknown cause.  She was so intent on the battle that she
almost did not hear the two coming up the other side of the building.
 
          Mel’s gasp of surprise came just in time, and Kara didn’t even
bother to turn.  Her kinetic shield went up around all three of them just in
time, the attack washing over them.  She turned, and Mel could have sworn
there was fire in her eyes.  Her hands stretched forward, her fingers splayed,
Kara released a ball of venomous energy at the first attacker, burning him to
cinder as he screamed.  She turned on the second attacker, but he had already
fled down the side of the building.  She dropped her shields down to their
usual level to conserve power, but would remember from now on that, unlike the
people she was escorting, she was not a spectator to this fight.
 
 
 
 
 
          Lars and Karen were assembled with several others, in the City Hall,
trying to coordinate the battle.  This was turning out to be impossible, as
none of the soldiers were really familiar with the terrain.  Asking someone
where he is becomes a challenge when all the street signs are being knocked
over by missed shots.
 
          *<<What’s going on, Lars?>>*  Karen asked.
 
          *<<Damned if I know, honey.  God I wish Ron were here.>>*
 
 
 
 
 
          Ron was well on his way, but was not even in sight of Philadelphia. 
He could, however, feel the pulsing energy coming from the area.  He
endeavored to increase his speed.
 
 
 
 
 
          Jeffrey was stunned, as he saw more of his men fall.  He dodged
another attack, and returned fire, but yet one more of his men fell from the
sky, killed by Russian psionic fire.  He felt an area of urgency, and raced
down an alley, over a fence, coming out onto a wide boulevard.  He saw many
shops, and then he saw some teens in black garb running away from something,
very fast.  Two Russians came out of a store front, having busted out the
glass already.  They hadn’t yet seen him when he went into a crouch and
blasted at them.  They both rolled out of the way of the attack, and fired
back.  He was almost singed by one of them, but managed to roll clear.  He was
about to fire back when he noticed both Russians were being held up off the
ground, upside-down, and then they were slammed down into the asphalt so hard
that their bodies actually penetrated.  The limp bodies slumped over, still
sticking from the roadway.  He looked up to see two of his friends waving.  He
saluted back, before hustling to find more bastards to kill.
 
 
 
 
 
          “Rick, this way, this way!”  Mel grabbed his shoulder and pointed. 
Kara looked as well, seeing that a larger collection of troops had massed near
the waterfront.  The sickening part is that there were nearly twice as many
Russians as PPA soldiers in the fight.
 
          *<Major battle near Penn’s Landing!>* she cried out telepathically. 
She could feel the confusion as many soldiers tried to remember what the hell
Penn’s Landing was.  Soon, several PPA troops were moving that way, but not
fast enough, Kara could see.  She was, unfortunately, too far away to affect
the battle.  She could but watch as good Americans were fighting, and dying,
at the hands of barbarians.
 
          *My God, how heavily outnumbered are we?* she thought, seeing that
the men at the waterfront were falling rapidly to greater numbers.  The battle
was soon over, all of the men having been killed.  She sent out a warning to
those soldiers heading that way.  Many lives were spared because of that act,
but she would never believe it.
 
 
 
 
 
          Kimberly was leading her band silently down an alley towards Broad
Street.  As she peeked her head around a corner, she nearly had it blasted off
by a shot that was not even intended for her.  It pulverized the corner of the
building she was hiding behind, and they had no choice but to run out into the
street as the building, which had absorbed dozens of blows already, collapsed
into the alleyway, unable to withstand the strain of one more heavy blow. 
*They’d make an effective demolitions team,* she thought to herself wryly.
 
          She and her team scampered across the street, trying to stay in
shadows, moving silently, attacking when they saw an opportunity.  Everywhere
the Russians fought in teams of twenty and thirty people, moving swiftly and
crushing whatever opposition was in their path.  They took down two, before
the rest of that crew saw them, and they had to retreat to safety.  She’d
already lost four men and one girl from her team.  The losses hadn’t sunk in
yet, but she was even now starting to feel the grief that would only intensify
after this night was over.
 
          She cringed as a blast from the sky vaporized the boy standing next
to her.  She flew away from it, not embarrassed to be running for her life. 
She stopped behind a delivery truck, overturned in the street, whether by
gangs or psionics, she neither knew nor cared.  The battle raged around her,
and she realized that her team had scattered.  She was alone.
 
 
 
 
 
          Lars and Karen had just about given up on trying to hold the battle
plan together.  They were outnumbered, and outmaneuvered.  Ron’s plan, as good
as it had been, could not stand up to these numbers.  No one had anticipated
what appeared to be eight hundred to a thousand Russians attacking the city. 
Ron could not be blamed for this.
 
          *<<He’ll blame himself,>>* Karen told her love.
 
          *<<Yes, he will.  I only hope we’re alive to tell him otherwise.>>*
 
          Just then, it was as if a strong wind arose from nowhere.  The
Russians had discovered the headquarters of the PPA’s field command.  Forty
psionics were blasting the solid stone structure.  The first thing to go was
the statue of William Penn, perched four stories up.  It fell, clanging
against the building, into the courtyard where they had set up shop.  Everyone
dodged it, as it smashed into the ground.  There was no time to be concerned
for the statue, however, as it was clear that the building itself was still
being assaulted.
 
          “Get out!” Lars screamed, but it was far too late for that.  The
central tower of the city hall collapsed under the force of the assault, and
came toppling down on them.  The rest of the building soon followed.
 
 
 
 
 
          Jeffrey was doing well, he had managed to put together a small
squad, and they had fought well.  Their numbers were dwindling slowly,
however, and now there were but three of them left.  They raced down a street
littered with rubble, from the wrecked buildings on both sides.  They were
heading towards the Schuykill River, where it had been reported that a new
large battle was going on.  Suddenly, from above them and slightly behind, an
attack came without warning.  So much psionic energy was blasting through the
air that trying to keep track of the surroundings had been reduced to visual
contact.  The two people with Jeffrey were caught by the blast, one instantly
pulverized, and the other decapitated.  He turned and loosed a wild blast in
the direction of the enemy, but it was easily dodged.
 
          Soon, his attacker was joined by three other psionics.  They began a
rapid fire sequence of assaults on him.  He blessed the training Ron had given
him, as he managed to bat aside most of the attacks, and dodged the rest.  He
even volleyed off a few shots of his own, but they had little effect, as he
couldn’t control them properly under the circumstances.
 
          He knew they were trying to surround him, and he was keeping his
back to a wall to prevent them from just such a tactic.  However, this wasn’t
a minor skirmish, and the rules of war were far different.  Seeing what he was
doing, two of the Russians blasted the wall behind him, causing it to cave
in.  Jeffrey saw it just in time, and almost avoided the collapse.  He was
caught by a mass of flying debris, and was knocked unconscious, half-buried
under a pile of loose brick and stone.
 
 
 
 
 
          Ron was aware of the fear and the tension.  He was almost there.  He
wanted to cry out, *Hang on!*  But he knew the words were meaningless to
people fighting, and dying, for *him*.
 
          Ron increased his pace, following the Delaware river.  He was
leaving a rooster-tail of wake, even though he was thirty feet above the
surface of the river.  The speed at which he was traveling was horridly
dangerous, and if he tried to stop too fast, the inertial effect alone would
kill him.  *There!*  The city loomed just ahead.  Just a couple more minutes...
 
 
 
 
 
          Kara’s hands were balled into fists, her heart pounding in her
chest.  She couldn’t stand to watch the battle below her.  She knew, even as
she longed to be down there, that it was quite possible that her current
assignment had saved her life, at least for one night.
 
          She didn’t hear the new attack.
 
          Suddenly, the building beneath her rumbled, and started tilting
dangerously.  Melissa and Rick were thrown off their feet, and, because they
were standing right at the edge, off the building.  Kara swore as she saw them
and, regaining her own footing, managed to slip herself off the building,
flying herself down toward them.  She had just managed to get them to safety,
when an energy blast caught her with a glancing blow.  That shoved her into
the falling building, which she bounced off, and was thrown roughly to the
ground, twenty feet below.  In her semi-conscious state, she was able to
cushion her landing, but she was still knocked cold from the impact.
 
          Melissa and Rick rushed to her side, checking to see that, yes, she
was breathing.  Then they had to worry about how to get out of here, how to
get help for the lady who had saved their lives more than once that night.
 
          “Mel, I don’t know about you, but I’m asking for a raise,” Rick
said, doing his best to lighten the mood.  Mel laughed softly.  Then they
dragged Kara into a shadowy spot, and hunkered down.  The battle was all
around them now, and Rick was getting great footage, even without the aerie to
shoot it from.
 
 
 
 
 
          Kimberly had moved towards the waterfront, not knowing that there
were roving bands of Russians running up and down the Delaware river banks,
looking for escaping PPA soldiers.  She moved out onto open ground near one of
the docks, and was spotted almost immediately.
 
          The training she’d had over the past few weeks paid off, as she
immediately dove into the river to avoid several blasts that passed well over
her head.  Soon, the enemy was firing into the River, but the darkness, and
the lack of clarity in the water, made it difficult to hit her.  She came up
several hundred yards downstream, but that was a mistake.
 
          Unknown to her, there was yet another group of psionics here, that
was also looking for escapees.  These Russians saw her, and struck her with a
blow that shoved her back into the water.  She summoned her strength, and
lunged out of the water, flipping herself over their heads, and landing fifty
feet from them, to their backs.  It didn’t take them long to turn around, but
she took two of them down as they were turning.
 
          Soon it was clear, though, that she had no chance.  She started to
run, only to notice that the two groups had now merged, and her escape route
was basically cut off.  She raised her shields as the blast wave came.  Her
knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, still holding her shields, but she
could feel them weakening.
 
          The energy washing over her was actually causing a physical *buzz*
in the air, which is why she didn’t hear the roar of wind.
 
 
 
 
 
          Coming up the river, Ron caught sight of the battle.  Twenty to one
odds were something that *he* didn’t want to face.  He didn’t yet recognize
the girl, for it was obviously a female, who was stuck in such a trap, but he
knew she was one of *his* soldiers.
 
          He had decreased to maneuvering speed, but now he actually sped up
slightly.  As he got closer, he recognized his friend, Kim, as the one being
threatened.  That only mad him angrier.  He decided that he had to act fast,
and that it would require a maneuver he had practiced, but had never used in
combat.  He dove for the scene.
 
          Some of the Russians did, in fact, hear the sound of rushing wind,
but it is very hard to react to an object moving at over one hundred miles an
hour.
 
          Ron flew down and around Kim in a tight circle, halfway between her
and her attackers.  He was spinning so fast that he was but a blur.  He
trailed his mental energy behind him, and, to a psionic, it looked as if a
giant glowing ring had formed around her.  The ring grew brighter in their
minds.  It also appeared to grow larger.
 
          Ron widened his circle with each pass, increasing his speed slightly
as he did so.  His kinetic shield was at maximum strength, and he continued
pushing outward.  The Russians, either disbelieving what they saw or simply
not able to interpret the threat, stood immobile, watching their doom coming. 
The first one that was hit had his head twisted in a full circle, while his
body stood still.  The second one was decapitated before the first began to
fall.  Only the last few had a chance to escape, and they took it, fleeing the
angry wrath of what looked to them for all the world like a hell of a big
fairy.
 
          Ron stopped his circling as they retreated, keeping his shields up,
but not at full strength.  He approached Kim, who had not yet looked up,
fearing for her life.  He reached through what was left of her kinetic shield,
and he realized that he had, in fact, arrived in the very nick of time.  He
pulled her up to her feet, and she embraced him, as a matter of instinct.  She
held onto him as a drowning man grasps a lifeline.  She wept against his
chest, and he stood there, holding onto his lieutenant-colonel, letting her
release her fear in the only way he knew how.
 
          While he was holding her, he took stock of the battlefield.  His
mind roamed down streets and alleys, taking a look at the devastation.  He
took tally of the number of his people alive and dead.  He made his decision
then.
 
          *<PPA!  This is your commander.  Retreat!>*  The call went out at
full blast, and yet Kim didn’t even flinch, so deep was the terror she had
been through.  He noted that troops were cut down even as they fled the
battlefield.  He made sure that wounded were collected, but the dead... would
remain in Philadelphia.
 
          His mind wandered to where their command center had been, and he was
shocked to see a pile of rubble.  Gently, he lifted Kim, and flew them both to
City Hall.  Kim was finally coming to, and she cried out in shock and anguish
to see what was left of the building.  Ron released her then, because his
hands were beginning to ball into fists, and he didn’t want to hurt her.  It
was then that he heard the voices.
 
          They came to his mind, not to his ears.  And if they were that
faint, they were either far away, or very weak.  He knew, instinctively, that
they were coming from beneath that pile of rock.
 
          *<Kim, carefully, clear away the building.  There are people under
there.>*
 
          Together, they worked.  It took them twenty minutes to clear away
enough of the debris.  They finally pulled Lars and Karen from a small bubble
of space, no bigger than the two of them plus a few inches all the way around.
 
          “Any others?”  Ron had to ask.
 
          Karen shook her head and sobbed, as Lars continued to explain. 
“They took the building down too quickly.  When it began to topple... I had
all I could do to save us.  I couldn’t save the rest.  I am sorry, Ron.”
 
          “You did what you could.  Let’s go home.”
 
 
 
 
 
          The Provisional Psionic Army of the United States of America had
entered Philadelphia with six hundred soldiers.  They were leaving with little
more than three hundred.  That there were also two hundred plus dead Russians
was not a consolation.  Many of the remaining three hundred were wounded, and
would take quite a while to heal.  He could see that there were even wounded
carrying wounded, and that was very unpleasant to behold.  

          The PPA had faced its first trial by fire.
 
          The PPA had failed.
 
          Ron was very quiet on the trip back home.