Penguins of Anarchy

Eight

Today was the day. A mere piece of the Martial Alliance force--consisting of fighter jets, helicopters, and gunships--had shown up on the radar, and the entire base was on full alert.

Dreemo carried an assault rifle and Sam carried an LMG all morning as they followed Drake everywhere he went. They wanted to be near him when the attack started. And he wanted to be near them, too.

Felly had already been assigned to a task force whose purpose was to guard the shield generator as the Alliance's forces tried to disable it. Dreemo and Sam would each be assigned to a task force as well, and they both hoped that they would be able to stay together.

"Now listen, boys," Drake began, "we knew going into this that we might not ever get to go home, but I want you guys to take care of each other. If something goes wrong, I want you to come find me immediately; do you both understand?"

"Got it, Drake," Sam said, gazing at the four-star general insignia on Drake's shoulder, almost feeling guilty for not addressing him as "General." "Things were a lot easier when you were Falcono," he added cautiously.

Drake sighed. "Yeah, I know. Back when I was friendly and carefree, right?"

Dreemo smiled at his beloved uncle. "Yeah. Right."

They remained near Drake until Sgt. Klondike located them and ordered them to guard the researchers in an underground bunker beneath the trainees' compound. "Remember, the only good guy who's gonna die today...is the guy next to you," Klondike said. Dreemo and Sam looked at each other nervously.

The researchers were located and ordered to follow Dreemo and Sam to the bunker. There were twenty-five of them in all.

When they reached the bunker, which was very dark, was floored and walled with cracked concrete, and had uncomfortable-looking wooden beds lining the walls, Dreemo and Sam initiated the door lock, which projected glowing yellow bars of energy at the entrance to block intruders.

"What do you think Drake's job is?" Dreemo asked Sam in a whisper as they squatted at either side of the doorway while the researchers huddled by the far wall.

"To lead the main defense force, maybe," Sam suggested.

"No, I think Col. Fragnile is commanding the main unit because he's afraid Drake's amnesia might affect his decisions."

"Oh, well, at least--"

It happened. The first explosion was heard. To Dreemo and Sam's untrained ears, it could have been anything--a missile exploding upon impacting the EM shield; an enemy helicopter or fighter jet going dead and crashing into the base; or, as Dreemo feared most, the shield generator being demolished by some enemy soldier with a missile launcher who simply walked through the shield and fired, since the EM shield was most effective against vehicles, not warm bodies.

"What do you suppose that was?" Sam asked nervously.

"I'm sure it's under control," Dreemo assured him, half-doubting his own words. "How much of the fleet could the Alliance have sent to invade just one military base anyway?"

They waited several more minutes before they heard a closer, much louder explosion that caused the whole bunker to shake. "The shield generator must be down!" Dreemo cried. He was struck with grief when he realized that Felly could have been killed by the blast.

"This is what we trained for, Dreemo," Sam said as he aimed his LMG at the entrance. "If we make it out of this battle--and this whole invasion, for that matter--just imagine what the guys back home will think when we come back as war veterans."