Chapter 13

Memphis.

Sophie's emotions battled with each other as she surveyed her new domain. Memphis made sense as the capital of the new territory, both in its proximity to secured Phoenician territory, and its guardianship of one of the few remaining viable bridges over the great Mississippi River. It was reasonably centrally located in the new territories, as well.

Although Memphis had been pacified after the raid her team had made years before, it had never been taken down as so many of the old cities had been. Phoenicia had simply cleared a wide swath through the rubble, making it virtually impossible for her convoys to be ambushed. Now it would become the capitol of the new Consolidated Eastern Territories. As such it would symbolize the final unification of the North American Continent under the banner of Phoenicia.

Sophie, however, had memories of the place that were not so pleasant. She remembered the bodies of the two Phoenicians she had found tortured and killed here, and she remembered the executions she had performed in retribution for the killings. Idly, she wondered if her father had ever had nightmares about the people he killed, the way she did. Knowing him, she realized that the answer was likely 'yes', but it was not in his character to talk about them, either.

Never mind. Save for a few buildings that she would deem useful, in a few weeks, the place would be nothing but piles of gravel and steel. In a few more weeks, those piles of gravel would have begun being used as paving material for the new roads that would be needed to bring the new territories fully into Phoenicia's embrace.

She still found it hard to believe the chain of events that had brought her here. Thinking back to the days after her fateful meeting with the scav leaders, she shook her head in wonder...

"Send that Orlov to a separate training camp from his followers," she had told Mark Wyndham after delivering her report on the meeting. "I don't trust him any further than I can throw him. If it was up to me, I'd send his lieutenants to separate camps from the rest of the bunch, too."

"Good advice, Major," Wyndham replied. "While you were meeting with Orlov, by the way, Granby sent a messenger in. He's agreed to your deal, too."

"That's good news," Sophie said. "I think Granby's a straight-shooter who really wants what's best for his people. Orlov, though, has got something up his sleeve."

"He did agree rather quickly to your proposal, didn't he?" Mark agreed.

It had taken a few weeks to clean up loose ends, and sort out who would go to what training camps and get them on their way, but for the most part, with the crisis averted, the Phoenicians had found themselves with a lot of time on their hands - time that, increasingly, Sophie had found herself spending in Wyndham's company.

That, too, confused her. She respected him well enough as a military officer, but more and more, she found herself enjoying his company when they were off-duty. For his part, Wyndham seemed to seek her out as often as she did him.

That last night before she left Indiana had been...

Sophie shook her head again, as if to clear it.

The orders had come directly from Carson. Initially, she had thought her brother might be behind them in an attempt to keep her as far from Phoenix as possible. In a radio exchange with the General, however, she came to the realization that it had been his idea to make her Governor of the new Eastern Territories. The 'why' was still beyond her. She got the feeling that Carson was guiding her career toward some ultimate goal, but for the life of her, she didn't understand where this assignment was supposed to take her, career-wise, since it promised to add very little to her military record, unless...

Surely Carson hadn't gotten on that 'Sophie for President' bandwagon that Jamaal had started. As far as she knew, he couldn't care less what happened with civilian politics, and as her superior in the military, it seemed unlikely that he would be pushing her toward a political career. Still, she could think of no other reason for him to maneuver her into a job like this. It was just too coincidental.

She could have refused, of course. She had enough time in uniform that she could opt for permanent civilian status, but she wouldn't do that. For whatever reason, Carson had gone to considerable lengths to place her in this post, and she owed it to him and to Phoenicia to see it through. It wasn't unusual in Phoenicia to have a military governor of a newly annexed territory, but to her knowledge, noone since the sickness had been responsible for so much new territory.

There were still pockets of scavs who had avoided being sucked into the major groups that had held these territories, and in that regard, having a military person in the Governor's office made sense. There were so damned many organizational and administrative things that needed to be done besides, however, that Sophie's head had felt like it would explode, until she remembered a trick her father had taught her: When a problem seems too big to handle, break it up into a bunch of smaller problems, then get the best people you can find to handle each of those smaller problems.

To that end, she had sent a message to Kyle and Linda. Linda was the best person she knew to handle the administrative details, and Kyle ... Well, Kyle got things done, period.

To her delight, they had jumped at the chance to work with her once again, even in a civilian capacity, and she eagerly anticipated their arrival on the next convoy.

The Construction Battalion units (CBs or 'Sea Bees') that had been with Wyndham's forces had followed her to Memphis and were having a grand old time blowing the old buildings to rubble, but she found herself wishing that Mark had come along, too.

"I've been in this uniform too long for an irregular, Sophie," Mark told her the morning her convoy left Indiana. "I think I need to remind myself what it's like to be a civilian for a while."

He had kissed her tenderly before she climbed aboard the Hummvee. Despite her resolve not to do so, Sophie had turned to look back as they left the compound. Mark was still there. Still watching.

How could something so simple warm her heart and tear it apart at the same time? Sophie wasn't so sure she wanted to know the answer to that. She had a job to do, and thinking about what might have been wasn't going to get it done.

As if to reinforce that thought, the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Base, this is Reaper Six. We've got scavs in these buildings."

Reaper was the codename for the Sea Bee demolition crews. Sophie was about to tell them to send the scavs to her with a guard detail when she thought better of it. The crews were on the verge of being short-handed as it was, while she had time to sit and daydream. "What's your location Six?"

"South side, the old airport."

"Roger Six. On my way. Keep going with the unoccupied buildings, but keep those scavs secured."

"Roger Base. Reaper Six out."

Sophie dropped out of the turret into the Hummvee's cabin and punched her driver on the shoulder. "Let's go! Take me over to the old airport!"

"Huh? Wha ... Yes ma'am!" the corporal answered, quickly getting his bearings after being awakened so suddenly. "Old airport, comin' up, Colonel!"

That was the other thing, Sophie reflected. Along with the new assignment had come her promotion to Lt. Colonel. She still didn't feel that she'd earned it, but Carson, Wyndham, and Jack Lee had all insisted she had, despite the fact that no significant military conflict had been fought.

"That's exactly the point, Colonel," Lee had laughed. "Do you have any idea how many lives and how much equipment this hare-brained scheme of yours saved, not to mention securing the rest of the continent? The Army appreciates that kind of thing, believe it or not!"

Sophie had accepted the new maple leaves, but still had her reservations.

The CBs had repaired one of the bridges over the creek that ran down the eastern side of the airport, and the driver, by now familiar with the layout of the city, made good time. They had no trouble locating the demo crew: One of the dilapidated hangars imploded as they made their way across the broad expanse of concrete that still supported the corroded hulks of giant pre-sickness aircraft. It seemed incredible to Sophie that such behemoths could even get off the ground, much less fly halfway around the world, but according to Gunny and others who had been alive then, they had done it routinely.

An armed soldier met the Hummvee and directed them to the building where the scavs were being held. As she entered the corroded aluminum doorframe where shards of glass still hung from the broken door, she noted gaping holes in the roof of the cavernous building. There was plenty of junk lying around, but it had been sorted and piled neatly - something she was unaccustomed to seeing in places where scavs lived. The man who stood with his arms around a woman and two children was clean, as were the others, though their clothing had clearly been repaired many times.

"I'm Lt. Colonel Chen-Thompson," Sophie told them as she approached. "I understand you've been living in this building."

"Yes, and we'd like to continue, if it's all the same to you," the man answered, his tone more civil than his words.

"You know that this territory is now under the control of Phoenicia, don't you?"

"One tyrant's the same as another," the man shrugged. "I'll pay your damned taxes just like I paid those fuckin'..."

"Jeb! The children!" the woman said sharply.

"Sorry, Gloria," Jeb told her before turning back to Sophie. "Just tell me what I owe and leave us alone. We deal honestly with those that come here to trade, and there aren't many who can say that these days."

"I'm not here to collect taxes, sir," Sophie said, "and I'd like to think that I'll be a bit easier on you than Orlov and his people were, but we're going to have to find you a better place to live. If you want to continue trading like this, I think we can make arrangements, but this building is coming down."

"How's that better than the Confeds?" Jeb asked angrily, "This is our home!"

"Nobody's explained this transition to you, I see," Sophie said, then a thought occurred to her and she turned to the private who had been guarding them.

"Private, where's your Roach Coach?" She had no idea where the term came from, but as far back as she could remember, that was the nickname applied to the self propelled field kitchens that accompanied Phoenician convoys and task forces. Each of her demolition crews had one as part of their inventory.

"Just out that door, ma'am," he pointed, "and around the corner to your left."

"Thank you, Private," she told him. "You can go back to your duties. I'll take responsibility for these people."

Turning back to the huddled family, she said, "What do you say we talk about this over some food? Army cooks can't hold a candle to my Aunt Ruth, but they manage to not make us sick too often."

She could almost hear the stomachs of the boy and girl rumbling at the mention of food. Jeb's face hardened with suspicion, but his wife's hand on his arm, and her pleading look, changed his budding refusal to reluctant acquiescence.

"It's okay, Jeb," Sophie said softly. "I mean you no harm. It just seems that you folks could use a good meal."

The mess cooks eyed the civilians suspiciously before their eyes found the maple leaves on Sophie's collar. Sophie showed her charges where the compartmented metal trays were kept, as well as eating utensils, then shepherded them down the chow line that had just been filled in preparation for the crew's noon meal. Jeb filled his tray sparingly, as did his wife, but the children felt no such restraint. The smell of good Phoenician beef and chicken, as well as both fresh and cooked vegetables had them piling their trays high until their mother cautioned them not to take more than they could eat.

Sophie took a tray and some food as well, more to be polite than out of hunger.

The adults tried to eat with some decorum, but the children had clearly not had food like this in a very long time, if ever. Sophie was a little surprised that they knew how to use the utensils, given the way they were living, but watched in awe and delight as they packed away an incredible amount of food, scraping up the remnants with their spoons.

She said nothing as the family finished their meal, including freshly baked apple pie.

"What is this?" the boy, who appeared to be about a year older than the girl asked excitedly as he dove in after taking a tentative taste of the pie.

"It's, well, I don't..." the woman looked confused, and Jeb shrugged his shoulders.

Sophie realized they had both been born after the Sickness and had never had a chance to taste such delicacies.

"It's called 'pie'," she answered the boy. "This one's made out of apples so it's called 'Apple Pie'."

"They make other kinds of pies in Fuhneesha?" the little girl asked hopefully as she scraped the last bits out of her tray.

"Lots of different kinds," Sophie laughed. "My favorite is Cherry Pie, but Pecan Pie and Pumpkin Pie, and even Sweet Potato Pie are all delicious."