Anzio book 1, p.1
Anzio: Book 1, page 1
ANZIO
BOOK 1
TRIUMPH FLEET SERIES
WES ALLEN
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
A Kind Request
Just Saying …
About the Author
Copyright © 2023 by Wes Allen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Donnie B.
AKA Donnie Dubbs
AKA My Brother
1
Outside Los Angeles
“Echo Two Alpha, this is Foxtrot Niner Bravo. I’m sixty kilometers outside Long Beach. Heading due west. Current location, ten kilometers east of Mount Baldy. Over,” the pilot called out from his F-44. One of three pilots from the North American West Coast Patrol, the aviation security arm of the Federation of Planets.
“Roger that, Foxtrot Niner Bravo. You have clearance to—” The Long Beach radio tower transmission stopped abruptly.
“Echo Two Alpha, this is Foxtrot Niner Bravo. Please confirm receipt of transmission. Over.”
Not even static could be heard on the other end. The F-44 pilot finished his ascent over the massive mountain, and as he looked out over the Los Angeles horizon, a brilliant flash of light spread out for miles.
“Night Hawk… Night Hawk. Are you there?” The pilot took a deep breath and had a hard time managing to get out his buddy’s call sign. “Night Hawk, talk to me. Over.”
“Whatcha got, Sabre Tooth?” the pilot answered.
“Night Hawk, since when did the sun start rising in the west?”
“I’m not following, Sabre Tooth. You’re not touching those mile-high whisky sours again, are you? I’m still east of Palm Springs. Nothing but 3:00 a.m. darkness over here.”
“We have a nuke over LA! I repeat, nuclear explosion directly over LA.” The pilot’s voice was cracking. “Night Hawk, avert to Lindbergh airport immediately.”
San Diego
“Admiral Klein, the earliest estimates suggest there will be over one hundred and twenty-five thousand fatalities.” The gray-haired Chief Petty Officer Josh Butler looked up and down at his freshly printed bomb assessment. “Sir, they believe it was a forty-five-kiloton nuke.”
“Forty-five? Anyone taking responsibility?” The mid-fifties, slender-built admiral was sitting on the edge of his chair. He pulled down firmly on his dress blue sleeves, then cleared his throat. “Any leads at all?”
“Sir, Eastern Command is saying it’s the Chinese,” Butler said.
“The Chinese? The entire eastern sector has been unified for thirty years now. How is that possible? Every nuke was destroyed right after the great invasion.” Klein stood up from behind his desk and grabbed the assessment from the officer’s hands. “I’m sorry, but you don’t just launch a forty-five-kiloton nuke clear across the Pacific. Not under the all-seeing eye of the Federation of Planets.”
“Sir, maybe it’s the Resistance.”
“That’s even more farfetched.” Klein switched subjects. “Get me Supreme Commander Powell on the line.”
Butler nodded before calling up the highest-ranking officer in the Federation and handing the phone to Klein.
“Sir, how would you like to respond?” Klein didn’t bother with a greeting or the usual perfunctory small talk. He and Commander Powell had served in the Federation together for the past two decades, and they were so familiar with one another that they often completed each other’s sentences.
Powell was staring hypnotically out of Earth’s space station bay window. He was silent for what seemed like eternity before sternly answering Klein. “We’re going to meet at Federation HQ, and I want the entire Triumph Fleet there.” Powell paced back and forth in the outermost corner of the recently rebuilt space station. “I’ll see you in New York in twenty-four hours.”
Before Powell could hang up, Klein interjected, “Sir, they’re saying it’s the Chinese. But you and I both know that’s not possible.”
“What are you trying to say, Klein?” Powell asked.
“There’s only one possibility, sir. It has to be the Mimic.”
2
Manhattan, New York
The United Nations building had been destroyed decades ago, and in its place, a massive dome-like structure was erected with the words ‘Federation of Planets’ proudly displayed over the top for all to see. The former building had representatives from all countries advocating before the other nations on behalf of their best interests. The new Federation existed as one consolidated entity. No longer representing nations, it now stood as a meeting place for Earth and the terra-friendly colonies to meet.
Most Federation meetings were drawn-out, compulsory gatherings where the hierarchy of each colony came to eat and drink and share stories about yesteryear. President or Prime Minister was a title of antiquity. Now the heads of each colony were military leaders originally from Earth. Supreme Commander Powell was the face of the Federation, but the real power belonged to the Sanof Corporation. Sanof was the defense contractor for the nine colonies that made up the Federation of Planets. The corporation was also responsible for expanding and populating the colonies. The CEO of Sanof was Victor Garcia, who was sitting at the front center of the auditorium-sized conference room. Powell sat to his right, and the two made small talk amongst themselves as the room filled with representatives from the colonies and the entire Triumph Fleet.
The enormous room was overly air conditioned and it complemented the state of each person’s emotions. The recent nuclear explosion over Los Angeles had everyone on pins and needles, and the usually festive gathering was pin-drop quiet.
Powell rose slowly from his well-cushioned mahogany chair and waved toward the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think you all know why we are here today. Ever since the great invasion back in 2164, Earth has pulled together under the leadership of the Sanof Corporation.” Powell put his hand on Victor Garcia’s back and smiled at the CEO. “For the first time since the garden of Eden, we’ve had global peace. Well, not totally. There are pockets of Resistance in various locations throughout Earth that will stop at nothing to interrupt the expansion to the outer colonies. For years, we’ve attempted to live in harmony with the Resistance, but Los Angeles serves as a grim reminder that our kindness has been misconstrued as our weakness. But today, that ends.”
Victor Garcia rose to his feet as Powell sat back down. When Garcia spoke, everyone listened, not out of obligation but due to his oratory command. He was a svelte, olive-complexioned man from the Spanish Riviera. Garcia had a charisma that was undeniable, and it didn’t hurt that he was the most wealthy, influential man in the galaxy.
He walked up and down the aisles of the magnificent conference room, gently grabbing the shoulders of the leaders seated in the rows as he passed by them. “We are in a very vulnerable time. Ever since Sanof discovered outer jump points, our Torgo cruise liners have been traveling far beyond our galaxy, to areas that were once thought unapproachable.” Garcia pointed with four fingers to the leaders of the colonies. “The Federation is flourishing in the Trenham galaxy with representatives from Weldon, Solandrel, and Ebling. We have the Blaron galaxy’s commanders with us from Ardath, Jesloden and Clarion. Finally, the Sohan galaxy is represented with leaders from Mitasis and Audrelicus.”
The commanders from each colony stood up and smiled politely before sitting back down. Garcia acknowledged each of them before looking back at Powell, gesturing with his open palm upward.
Powell stood up and filled the Federation in on the details. “Intelligence points toward an attack from the Resistance. We are still gathering evidence, but large residue and materials consistent with a nuclear staging set have been located deep in the former Yunnan Province, in the Ailao Mountains.” A giant map shone on the oversized wall behind him. Powell pointed with a laser at the dense surrounding mountains. “Our lower Earth command has been relentlessly bombing that area and all other known pockets of Resistance over the past twenty-four hours. Our Treaty of 2173 has been repeatedly broken by these vermin, but weapons of mass destruction will never be t
A thickly decorated three-star Marine raised his hand and stood up after Powell acknowledged him. “Sir, where does this leave the colonies? Shouldn’t we be on standby and beef up security? What do we tell our citizens?”
“I don’t think we need to worry them. This is a single act of terrorism that has been contained.” Powell pointed to the back of the conference room. “But just in case, we have the elite Triumph Fleet about to move out. Each starship will guard an individual colony.” Powell waited to see if anyone else was going to raise their hands. They didn’t. “If there are no further questions, the Triumph Fleet will meet with Admiral Klein in the inner room and the rest of us will stay here. Let’s take a lunch break and reconvene in an hour.”
As Powell walked toward the back door, he was followed by Klein. Two freshly shaven, well-postured Marines stood at attention as the back doors opened wide. Powell glanced quickly at the Triumph pilots exiting right behind him, then did a double take as his brow wrinkled. He stared straight at Captain Renson, then turned toward Klein and spoke through clenched teeth. “What is he doing here?”
“Sir, you said everyone needed to be here, and Captain Renson is still part of the Triumph Fleet.” Klein waved toward the scraggly, out-of-shape captain and mouthed, “C’mon, let’s go.”
Klein closed the inner conference room door behind him and walked to the middle of the circle as the Triumph Fleet captains filled the seats. He looked at the nine of them and read off the starships they flew.
“Kursk.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Luzon.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Bismarck.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Tarawa.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okinawa.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Saipan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Normandy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Berlin.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And… Anzio.”
There was a pregnant pause, and every head turned in the direction of the Anzio’s pilot.
Klein let out a loud, purposeful cough, then repeated, “Anzio!”
“Yes. Uh, yes, sir.” Captain Renson looked up and made brief eye contact with Klein, then looked back down at the Berber carpet.
Klein spent the next hour detailing assignments, emergency protocols, and potential threats. “Okay, you all have your assignments. Be ready for anything, and keep your comm lines open at all times.”
Renson got up from his chair and exited the room before Klein concluded.
“Sir, what is he doing here?” asked the Luzon’s pilot.
Before Klein could answer, a few other captains jumped in with the same question, followed by collective groans and disgust.
Klein’s face quickly reddened and his tone was stern. “I understand that Renson was almost decommissioned and his XO was sent to the brig, but in case some of you forgot, he is the most decorated officer in the entire fleet. If it wasn’t for Renson and the Anzio crew, we wouldn’t be here today.” Klein paused before walking around the circle with his arms tightly folded. “Captain Renson deserves all of our respect, and don’t forget that. Now you’re all dismissed!”
Renson walked back in the room just as the admiral had finished talking. With a slight smirk, he said, “Wow, I sure know how to clear a room.”
“I’m sure you expected that kind of a reception, right?” Klein asked. “I mean, you and your crew refused your previous assignment. The other crews were left to fight on their own.”
“Sir, I’d do the same thing all over again. That assignment was against our own people. You all refer to them as the Resistance because it helps you to sleep at night, but I’m never going to help attack my own people just because they oppose the mass deportations of Earth’s citizens out to distant colonies.”
“Renson, you and I both know that no one has been forced to relocate from Earth. Everyone who has moved did so freely.”
“Sir, I mean this with all due respect, but you are blind like the rest of the military. The Resistance isn’t the enemy. Sanof is.” Renson brushed his fingers through his dark, wavy hair and then let out a grunt in frustration. “Look, why am I even here?”
Klein looked around the room and spotted the numerous cameras with flashing red lights. He whispered, “Captain, follow me.” The two walked down seven flights of stairs. Once they were outside in the frigid Manhattan air, Klein continued. “Look, I’m sure the Resistance couldn’t have done this. It’s completely impossible.”
“Then why didn’t you speak up back in the meeting?”
“Commander Powell won’t listen to me, and I don’t want to be alienated, so I just kept my mouth shut. For now, I am still the commander of the Triumph Fleet.” Klein checked his rear as the two walked down the snow-stained sidewalk. “I don’t believe the Mimic ever left.”
“Sir, tell me something I don’t know. I’ve wanted to expose them for the longest time, but there’s no way of telling who’s a Mimic and who’s not.”
“What if I told you there is a way to do it?”
“I’d say count me in.”
“I thought you would. I have a special assignment for you and your crew.”
“I’m listening.”
“I want you to go to Mimic land to scope out their place, and grab us some DNA.”
“Oh, is that all?” Renson replied sarcastically. “No one can get within thirty light years of the Mimics’ home. That planet is fortified to the teeth.”
“I know it sounds like a suicide mission, and it probably is, but it’s our only hope. There won’t be any Earth left, or at least any inhabitants, if we don’t do something quickly. I need to know straight up: are you in, or are you out?” Klein asked.
“What the heck. Let me get the crew together, and I’ll meet you out in Borrego Springs. Besides, it’ll be good to see the old bird.”
Klein shook his head and grabbed the captain’s shoulder. “The Anzio is put away. She’s in a hangar collecting dust.”
Renson smiled wide. “Well, dust her off, sir.”
“There’s no time, Renson. We need you and the crew up and running in a few days.”
“Sir, if I go, the Anzio goes. We are a pair, and I’m not wavering.”
Klein tried one more approach. “It’s going to take weeks to get the Anzio ready for that kind of travel. Besides, I’ve got a bird you’ll love. No more old-school star plotting. No cloak fractures. Everything is done for you.”
“Sir, you can keep the state-of-the-art mumbo jumbo. It’s the Anzio or nothing.”
Klein knew he was bested. “Okay, but you’re going to regret this decision. I’ll have her as up and as ready as we can get her in one week.”
“And the entire crew right there too,” Renson demanded.
“Everyone but your XO. He’s been shipped to Weldon. He won’t get out of prison for at least ten more years.”
“Sir, you need to get him out of there. You have the clout.”
“I have absolutely no jurisdiction on Weldon.”
“Then we make a pit stop before heading to Mimic land.”
3
Anza Borrego, California - One Week Later
The Anza Borrego desert sat about sixty miles east of San Diego. The former 600,000-acre desert state park was converted into Sanof Corp’s largest launching pad in the Southwest region. Over the last three months, there had been incessant daily launches of Sanof’s Torgo cruise liners out into expanding colonies.
