The Mighty First, Episode 3, Sorrows of Enon Pass: The Mighty First series, #3

By Mark Bordner

The 1st Combat Division finds itself facing a massive alien counter-offensive on multiple fronts.  Minerva struggles to keep up as the North American campaign is forced to go on the defensive.  Her greatest challenges threaten to bury her as she faces losing one that she holds dearest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Bordner
• Release date: Mar 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386514152

Book preview

Mark Bordner

The Mighty First series (c) 2014 all rights reserved

Dedications

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- My wife, my buddy, my other half, Minerva. 

- Dylan, Timmy, Ashley.  My biggest fans. My smiles in the morning.

- The community of Winslow, Arizona.

- V-4 Division, USS Belleau Wood, circa 1991-1994, and all others who served on that

Goddess of the sea. May she rest in peace on the Pacific floor.

- Friends, family, and all of you. Thank you so much for your unwavering support and

enthusiasm.

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-Dad.  I’ll never forget you.  Staff Sergeant Robert Bordner, U.S. Army, Armor Recon,

Korean War veteran, father, buddy.  Rest in Peace.  1932-2014.

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-Brenda, you rock!

-A shout-out to my beta readers.  Thank you guys for your time, and dedication to the

success of this series.  Bill Sabin, Dede Burns Smoley, Dale Norton, and Jeanne

Gassman.

Acknowledgments

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- The United States Department of Defense

- Winslow Chamber of Commerce, and the community as a whole

- Our brave men and women who have, do, or ever will serve on the front lines to

defend our freedom.

- You, loyal reader, who has fearlessly joined The Mighty First in its campaign to liberate

Earth from alien occupation.  Grab your helmets. Let’s ride.

-Paramount Pictures and affiliates

-Tate Publishing Enterprises, LLC

-Nat Russo, Duane Lau Jr., Jason McIntyre, Phillip Dryer Duncan, Joe Madden, and Stephen King

Mark Bordner's The Mighty First series successfully combines his military knowledge with an evident love of science fiction to create a fully realized, believable tale of a future war with an alien empire. Enough action to sustain even the most hardened adrenaline junkie, yet with a mindset that younger readers can enjoy it as well. A fun, well-told tale. Highly recommended.

—Joseph J. Madden, author, The Starhawk Chronicles

This episode’s guest roles

Jasper Cole: Storian over-marshal Jasper Garrow

Desiree Bengson: Winslow Police Sgt Bengson

Bill Sabin: Sergeant Bill Sabin, A-Co., 1st Battalion, 83rd Combat Regiment

Brian Hernandez: Private Brian Hernado, B-Co., 1st Battalion, 83rd Combat Regiment

Patricia Martinez: Sgt. Patti, 1st Platoon, Attayan 2nd Light Infantry Brigade

Erik Brionez: Capt. Erik Brion, US Space Navy, C.O., USSN Terra Daley

Jovannah Brionez: Sgt. Jo Brion, 1st Platoon, C-Co., 1st Battalion, 83rd Combat Regiment

Rich McMahon: PO2 Mahan, US Space Navy, Navigation Tech., USSN Terra Daley

Ed Leonard: Senior Chief Ed Leon, US Space Navy, Flight Deck, USSN Goliath

Alan Marion Jr.: Capt. Maron, US Space Navy, C.O., USSN Belleau Wood

Michael Bordner: Sgt Mike Borden, tank gunner, 108th Armored Division

Savannah Bordner: Pvt Savannah Borden, C-Company, 1st Battalion, 83rd Regiment

Sheeryl Lim, Medical Corpsman, C-Co., 1st Battalion, 83rd Combat Regiment

Lisa MaClean: Lisa McClain, news anchorwoman, GNN

Brenda Gerber: Medical Corpsman, C-Co., 1st Battalion, 83rd Combat Regiment

Steve Garnnett: Police Chief of Winslow, Arizona

Readers

You, too, have the chance to grab guest roles in the series! It is just for fun, you

don’t get paid, but if chosen, you can have a character with your first name to identify

with as you follow the story.  Just visit my author page and drop me a note stating that

you’d like to be included. I’ll get as many of you in as possible.

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The Mighty First, Episode 3, Sorrow of Enon Pass

Copyright © 2014 by Mark Bordner, all rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or other-wise without prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

This novel is a work of fiction.  Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental with the exception of fan guest roles provided with permission from the casting call winners.

The Mighty First series, though written in the context of an alien invasion, and subsequent war for liberation, contains no explicit gore, cursing, or sexual content. 

Published in the United States of America

ISBN-13:

ISBN-10:

1 Young Adult Fiction/Science Fiction/General

2 Fiction/War & Military

Contents

1.  Infiltration

2.  Horsemen of the Apocalypse

3.  Sorrow of Enon Pass

4.  The Dayton Offensive

5.  Footprints in the Sand

6.  Intrigue

7.  Return to the Line

8.  Operation Shadow

Preface

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....On the chopper carrying C-Company, 1st Platoon, Minerva sat nearest the deployment hatch in the rear.  Her visor was open, eyes gazing down at the deck, not seeing anything from this world.  She was oblivious to the shaking and rotor noise from the old-style helicopter that they were unaccustomed to; her mind off in another time, when her world meant something.  The memory of looking into her lover’s green eyes, of kissing his soft lips, of how he looked on their wedding day such a short time ago.  Her love for him had been whole; her heart stolen from the first time she had met him, and that had been torn from her.

Her soul was lost, a cowering thing tucked far back in her sub-consciousness,

replaced by a bloodlust that encompassed her entire being.  She wanted nothing more than to be set loose to plunder, to destroy, to utterly murder every Storian that dared confront her.  They had taken what was dearest to her, and she intended to return the favor a thousand-fold....

Sorrows of Enon Pass

One

Infiltration

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Winslow, Arizona

The man that had knocked on Andrea Carreno’s door looked down at his hand, at the weapon that it held.  His own expression seemed as surprised as her own to see it there.

The pistol rose and hovered in front of her face.  Its barrel was incredibly large; it became the entire focus of her universe, that gaping maw centered directly between her eyes.  She did not understand why this stranger wanted to kill her, but that comprehension was all too clear now.  For whatever reason, she was about to die.  That moment stretched into an eternity in which she was unable to move or react in any way to save herself.  One emotion rose to the fore, and that was one of great sorrow.  Her daughter was newlywed, and Andrea had hoped to enjoy grandchildren once the war was over.  Now those hopes were lost.

She closed her eyes and waited for the last, violent punctuation of her life to bring

things to an end.  That was when, seemingly from nowhere, Cleo had appeared-—having dashed from the kitchen.  He yanked her backwards and placed his body in front of her.  They were looking into one another’s eyes when the pistol fired.  The plasma punched into his back and Cleo lurched, his grip on her shoulders tightening. 

He looked surprised.

Her husband’s breath came from him in a long, slow sigh, and his gaze-—that powerful link into her soul, began to fade.  Her husband’s hands relaxed, and he leaned into her in one last embrace.  He began to slide to the floor, pulling her with him, first to his knees; then his body could hold him no more, and he collapsed.

Still in shock, not fully comprehending what was happening, Andrea kneeled on the floor with her husband’s head in her lap, softly calling his name, telling him to wake up.  She had completely forgotten about the man still standing in the doorway, weapon trained on her.  Her only focus was that of her love crumpled on the floor, his open eyes seeing nothing, mouth hanging agape.

The gunman, Jeff, struggled fiercely within his head.  His mind was under siege by the Device implanted on his spine, forcing him to act.  He no longer wanted to do these things.  This was not who he was, not who he wanted to be.  What was the purpose in murdering an old man and woman?

The Device pushed him harder, but from somewhere deep inside the spark of his consciousness, Jeff found himself and fought back.  The struggle was immense.  His hand trembled so hard that the entire arm shook, his finger wanted to pull the trigger, but he willed it not to.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.  His control was slipping, there was

little time.  Only one thing to do.  He forced the hand holding the gun to turn, bringing the barrel to his own head, and with the last of his will power, used his thumb to push the trigger.

Winslow Police Chief Steve Garnett stood at the stoop of the porch steps, hands on his hips, staring down at the body lying near his feet, which was draped over with a blue sheet.  Perspiration beaded on his shaved head, and ran in rivulets down the back of his neck.  Despite it being October, the high desert was still baking under the relentless countenance of the sun.  It was beyond the humid blanket of the monsoon season, so at least there was that.  The dry heat was easier to endure, but on these days, when there was not even a hint of breeze, it seemed to simply bake a person from all sides.

I can’t believe it.

This came from his day-sergeant, Desiree Bengson.  The woman was soft-spoken, a gentle giant that towered over everyone she worked with on the town’s meager police force.  She would give a man the shirt off of her back, and just as quickly throw him to the ground if the need arose, but her stature negated the need for the latter.  Most law-breakers took one look at her and just did as they were told.  She was a good cop to have on the force, and much-respected around town.

Garnett nodded his agreement, still looking down at the covered body. 

This sort of thing had not happened in years, not since the shoot-out at the freeway off-ramp when he himself was yet a boy; and even that had not been violence borne in town.  Some drug trafficker had been pulled over for a faulty taillight by the highway patrol.  The bad guy had killed the officer before being killed himself, ironically run over by his own car when it slipped out of park and bowled him over. 

The bulk of his calls were nothing more than the local good-ol’ boys having too much to drink on a Friday night and getting into a scuffle, or of bored kids getting themselves into mischief.  Not this.  Not out-right murder.

The Carrenos are good people, Bengson added. I don’t understand this.

Garnett sighed and shifted his gaze to the open door, peering inside. It sure wasn’t robbery this guy had in mind.  She answered the door, and he started shooting.  Out-right assassination attempt.

How’s Cleo?  The sergeant asked, waving air against her face with a manila envelope.

Shot once in the upper-back, Garnett answered, still looking into the house from outside.  Something on the floor had caught his eye. The docs here had the Army fly him out to Flagstaff Med-Center for surgery.  His missus went with him; she’s alright, if not frightened out of her mind.

An ambulance finally pulled up to the curb next to the police cruisers, its lights undulating with theirs.  The crowd of on-lookers parted for the EMT’s as they got out and retrieved the gurney from the back.  An unmarked car followed closely behind, this the Coroner.  He would have to snap a few photos of his own before carting off the body of the dead gunman.

Garnett stepped around into the foyer, leaning over to pick up what he had been looking at, and brought it outside to review with Bengson. 

It was a neatly folded letter, now stained on one corner with blood. 

They gingerly opened it and scanned its contents, then exchanged uncomfortable looks with one another.

Someone’s going to have to tell their daughter what happened, Bengson said. You want me to drive over to the military liaisons’ office at the airport?

The chief shooed away flies that were beginning to gather, I suppose you could.  I’m going to shadow Doc Hack for a spell, and see if we can make any sense of this.

Bud Hack was the town Coroner.  He was often a belligerent old cuss, but possessed a keen insight on many things, often picking up on details that others could not see.  It was beneficial to endure his graveled personality in order to tap that unique well of sixth-sense.

Bengson walked back to her cruiser in those long strides that her legs cut through the air, her dark mane hanging against the back of her shirt.  People got out of her way without being asked to.  She passed Hack and nodded hello-—to which Hack ignored pointedly, instead fixing Garnnett with a scowl as he approached.

It’s this heat, the bearded man complained. Driving people to murder!

Garnett tried to force a grin, attempting to appease him.  The older man fumbled with a small camera and began snapping shots at different angles, at different things near

the crime scene, setting right away to work.

It’s a damnable shame, though, Hack added. Poor ol’ Cleo.  What would bring this kind of thing on a kind old couple like these two?

Garnett lifted the sheet so that Hack could get pictures of the body, This guy shot Cleo in the back, then turned the gun on himself, he explained.

Andrea said he looked out of his mind.

"Damned straight out of his mind! Hack told him, taking the photo. Just walking up and shooting someone when they answer the door!"

Garnett crouched down and peered at the man’s face.  The plasma round had gone straight through one eye and into the brain, killing him instantly.  He had fallen backward and landed face-up.  Other than the eye, there was no damage to the face.

He looks in bad shape, the chief mentioned.

Hack snorted, "Of course he’s in bad shape, the fool’s dead!"

Garnett held his temper in check, You know what I mean.  Look at his face, he looks like he was sick.  Half-starved.

More pictures, then, Roll him over for me.

I don’t have gloves on, the chief protested. You do it.

The Coroner grumbled under his breath and yanked on the man’s shirt, turning him to the side.  It was surprising how light the body felt.  The shirt lifted slightly, up and away from the waist-line.  Something caught their attention at the same time.

What have we here?  Hack said.

They studied the strange, metallic chip embedded in the skin over the lower spine.

The flesh was puckered around its edges.  Hack picked at it with a gloved finger, but it was firmly implanted.

You ever see anything like that?  The police chief asked, frowning.

Hack shook his head no, It isn’t sewn in, but it’s snugly attached.  Let’s get this guy back to my lab and take a good look at him.

They stood out of the way so that the EMT’s could load the body onto the gurney and cover it, strapping it down.  Chief Garnett motioned to one of his officers, who came over.

Lock things up and clear these rubber-neckers out of here.  See if you can get one of the neighbors to keep an eye on the place.  I’m going with Doc Hack.

The officer nodded and set about securing the scene.  Garnnett walked back to his car, weaving through the crowd and getting in, savoring the cool interior.  The air conditioner was cranked full-blast, providing him with some relief.  He thought a silent prayer for the Carrenos, hoping that the old man would be able to pull through-—and thinking that this would be the last thing their daughter needed to hear, being occupied with fighting the freaking war.  The chief reached into his breast pocket for a stick of gum and put the car in drive, pulling away from the curb, heading on his way to the hospital.

*****

The autopsy ward was deliciously cold, a welcome atmosphere from the oven outside.  The afternoon was turning into a scorcher.  Chief Garnett joined the Coroner as the man was prepping himself for the examination of the shooter’s corpse, laid out face-down on the metal table.  Hack handed a surgical gown to him while collecting various tools and laying them out neatly on a work tray.

Garnett helped himself to a mask and some safety glasses as well, standing out of the way until Hack seemed ready to proceed. The two of them stood over Jeff’s body, one on either side of the table, scrutinizing the odd-looking object that was so snugly attached to the spine.  Hack bent over it with a magnifying glass, poking and prodding at it.

It’s definitely some sort of plastic, the doctor said, reaching out for a dental pick and gently exploring it along its edges. It’s embedded into the flesh, quite deeply so.

Hack set the things down and went to an x-ray lamp on the wall, turning it on.  The image of the man’s spine jumped out, and the tentacle-like hairs could be seen as plain as day, extending down into the column and wrapping around the cord within. Another film beside it was of the thing itself, and its interior was clearly electronic. Hack folded his arms and studied it, muttering to himself.  Chief Garnett frowned at the pictures that Hack had taken before he had arrived.

What are we looking at?  He wanted to know.

Hack pointed at it, I’m not sure, exactly, but whatever it is, its design is clearly for the purpose of mind or motor control.  This is extraordinary.

Garnett gawked, So, you’re telling me that this guy was basically turned into a robot?

Hack nodded slowly, thinking, "This is like no technology that I’m aware ever existed.  It has to be nano-bot integrated. At first glance, I would assume its original design was intended for medical purposes, perhaps to repair spinal cord injuries.  It’s apparently been weaponized." 

So, this thing is a military weapon?  The chief asked with growing concern.

The Coroner nodded again, And, I would be willing to guess that it’s of Storian origin.  This is far beyond our technology, and I can’t imagine the Attayans doing anything this twisted.

Garnett took his safety glasses off and pulled the mask down, Maybe you’d best not continue any further with your autopsy.  I need to put a call in to the military liaisons’ office.

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Chief Garnett sat alone in a corner booth of the Brown Mug diner, his half-eaten burger shoved aside.  It was too hot to eat, his appetite squashed during the summers.  He instead nursed an iced Coke, his third, as a matter of fact.  He was tired from the trying day, and winding down in the quiet of his favorite hang-out was just what he needed.  His mind played back on the events of the afternoon, scarcely believing the things that had taken place.

The Army garrison at the airport had sent a medic back with Bengson.  The lieutenant took one look at the thing in the corpse’s back and immediately called his superior.  Within twenty minutes, a captain had shown up, followed by a major, then a colonel.  A call was made to somewhere back east, and as far as Garnnett knew, word filtered its way to the President.  The Army confiscated the body and took it away, but not before making both himself and Doc Hack sign non-disclosure agreements.

The entire investigation was taken over by the Department of Defense-—every detail, right down to the Carreno’s house.  Military policemen were standing guard there now.  The DOD had also worked something out with the FBI, and had agents drive up from Phoenix.  The whole thing clearly had the government shaken up on multiple levels.

The evening was turning a fiery red mixed with orange, a signature sunset that lit the interior of the quiet diner.  Garnett let out a breath, feeling his nerves calming down, and planned to go home to let the cool shower wash away the day’s sweat.  Maybe he’d watch the news videos for a spell and throw back a cold beer or two.  Most likely, he would end up asleep in his chair, as happened most nights.  What a life.

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Secure Presidential Bunker

October 3rd

I’m getting tired of this briefing room, President Petra Reyes complained. Very little good ever seems to come from this place.

Major General