Alternia Comics

The field before him was deceptively empty. Wind blew in the tall, wild grain hiding the concrete bunkers and sealed silo-openings that Patrick Dawnflight knew were there. Above him the clouds were sparse and stringy, but off to his left a fog was resting on the hills to the east. The way the wind blew today would tell whether or not that fog came down into the broad valley. He breathed deep, and under the heavy, dry scent of the grass were other smells - gun oil, brass, and the sweat of men under heavy loads. Those, Patrick knew, were from the small, well armed group spread out in the grass behind him - but the thought amused him that he might be smelling the same thing from his enemies, watching from those bunkers.

Enemies, he thought. The men and women in those bunkers should not have been his enemies. Why hadn't the invasion shown mankind that they had to stand together, now? Weren't they all human beings? Shouldn't they all be on one side?

Apparently not, and now the only hope for the future of earth lay waiting in those silos - and Patrick would have to go through his own people to get to it.

So be it.

The soft crackle of a radio turned his head. The radio man answered under his breath, waited, and then looked up to his leader. "The other team is in position," he said to Patrick.

"Good. Tell them to make their move an hour after midnight."

*****

"0100, sir," said the young signal officer. He held the headset to his ears a few moments longer. "The other team has confirmed. That's when they're moving in."

Colonel Lee nodded. He looked absently at his watch, but had already calculated that he and his troops had a little less than ten hours to prepare. When he looked up, he cast his eyes about the motley crew of soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, and wanderers that had come together in this missile silo for refuge - and who now shared the mission of protecting it. These were his leaders - all huddled into the small, dim, gray-walled command center of the silo, and all waiting on his word. They know what to do, he thought, but they still wait on my word.

Ten hours. Plenty of time. Now, they need some inspiration.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his korean accent coloring his deep voice, "it has come to this. The people out there want what we have in here - what we have faithfully guarded from raiders and aliens alike. I could tell you that we have done so under orders - but we all know the source of those orders is probably long gone. The real reason we fought them, and the reason we will fight tonight, is because the power of these missiles must never be in the hands of the few. If ever they are, the whole earth will be at the mercy of men we dare not trust.

"The people you fight tonight will not be like the others. They think they can save this planet by firing not just our missiles, but others all over the world. They admirably want to free us from the aliens, but they are wrong - this is not the way. It will leave our planet earth a cracked, diseased shell of its former self - a place not worth the invaders' time, true, but not even worth living on.

"So go. Look to your stations and be sharp. See that you stop them. Perhaps, if they fail to gain control of this center, they will not launch from the others I am sure they are attempting to take control of around the globe. If they do, we cannot control that, but THESE missiles - our trust, our charge will not be used in this desperate act of self destruction."

*****

Seven hours later, Patrick Dawnflight looked down the sights of his twin Glock .45s at the wounded Colonel Lee, covering the officer while his medic tended the gunshot and his technicians prepared the launch.

"You are early," said the Colonel.

"Figured you would be listening. We all knew to subtract four hours from times over the radio."

The grinding of machinery and the howling of alarms filled the air, and the very room they stood in shook as the silos opened and the missiles were moved into place.

"Please," said Colonel Lee. "Stop this. You will doom us all."

"You tried this before," said Patrick. "We argued, I left. It didn't work then and it won't work now. I didn't want to have to kill all those soldiers, but I can't let Earth be ground under the heel of those tyrants."

"Millions will die ..."

"Millions HAVE died! The rest will be slaves unless we do this!"

"... and that's only the beginning! Then the sickness will pollute and destroy what you want to save. Please, you cannot do this ..."

"Are the launch coordinates set?" Patrick asked one of his technicians.

"Yeah," she answered. "Ships over Colorado, Utah, California, the Great Lakes, the land-bases in D.C, Seattle, and Mexico, and the rest are set for ships in orbit."

"Dear God ..." the Colonel writhed, but the medic held him down.

Patrick moved over to the console. He looked to a technician who showed him the keys, already turned in their locks, and the final button. He nodded. "We can't live as slaves, Colonel. Earth will be free."

Colonel Lee chuckled. "Give me liberty ..."

Patrick slammed his hand down on the button.

"... or give me death ..."