Chapter 1: And So It Begins

This is Fiction. Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is highly unlikely and purely coincidental.

Staring at the vertical red, blue, and white stripes caused him to wonder why they called it the Green Room. Colonel Philip Reynolds wondered whom he had pissed off to wind up here. He sat on a large overstuffed divan; it was the one piece of furniture there that could carry his enhanced frame. Somebody above him in rank thought it would be a good idea to dispel the out-of-control rumors about what really happened during an extraction. After a few phone calls to the World News Network, Philip found himself as a guest on the show, Exposé International.

Philip was not alone. He would be appearing with Marsha Powers, the emergency spokesperson for Mentis in Deum, a religious group who proposed that man alone existed as the dominant species in God's cosmos. They believed wholeheartedly that the Confederacy in its entirety was a front. Mentis in Deum believed this situation was a sign from God to bring together all the Christian churches to counter this secular threat.

When Marsha entered the room, she would not make eye contact with Philip. When she did sit down, she placed herself facing him across the Green Room, very close to the exit. Any time he made a move, even crossing or uncrossing his arms or legs, she watched him. The royal blue dress she wore did not show her figure. It did project a sense of conservative strength. Her dark tresses were drawn softly back, falling down her back.

Philip noted that she took short breaths. He could see small beads of perspiration dotting her forehead. Her eyes were partially dilated, indicating she was a bit nervous. Years of experience assessing individuals as a revenue agent caused Philip to slide Marsha into the 'I do not want to be here' category.

Sub-vocally he made an inquiry. "Can I have an abbreviated resume for Marsha Powers?"

The AI spoke softly into his implant. "Marsha Powers possess a Master's Degree in Communication from UCLA and a Bachelors Degree in American Literature from Arizona State." Marsha patted her nose and forehead to remove the excess moisture. "Upon graduating, she received a job offer from KSWB Fox 5 in San Diego. She worked in the research department before becoming involved with Mentis in Deum. Predominately she works for them now as a speech-writer and researcher for the movement." The less Philip moved, the more Marsha's tension visibly eased. "Today due to her superior's emergency root canal, she is representing the movement. Ms. Powers has not taken a CAP test."

The door opened, and the young woman dressed in a blue t-shirt emblazoned with the show's logo stuck her head in the room. Her jeans framed her legs. Close-cropped hair framed her delicate face. She placed her right hand over the microphone built into her headset. "I'm the assistant stage coordinator, a.k.a. flunky; please follow me to the set." She pushed the door wider and smiled.

Philip stood very slowly. His movements seemed to freeze Marsha in place. The girl in the headset rolled her eyes and sighed. She looked at Philip, then at Marsha. The way the flunky's eyes jerked prompted him to act. Philip reached forward toward the sitting woman. He held his palm up and curled his fingers, offering a handhold.

Marsha blinked. Looking at the girl and then at Philip, she tentatively reached up and grabbed the offered hand. She pulled herself into a standing position. "Thank you, Colonel." Her voice hid most of her embarrassment.

Deciding to keep the advantage, Philip held the door. "After you," he gestured, giving her enough space to not crowd her. Politely, she tilted her head in a mute thank you. Having her see him as a decent man, rather than as a member of a conspiracy, would help to chip away at her façade.

"Thank you." Marsha's voice was a bit stronger.

The flunky led them down the hallway to a very large door. She stopped and turned to face Philip and Marsha. "I need to turn on your mikes and have you perform a sound check." First, she reached around toward Marsha's back and touched the box on her hip; then followed the same procedure with Philip. "Marsha, please say hello and your name."

The process repeated three times. Each time Marsha sounded different. Each time she tried, her blush changed. Philip felt a bit embarrassed in that he had no additional issues; he was a one-take wonder.

Other than the advice to be calm, Philip ignored the flunky but followed her onto the set. Marsha sat on the right of the conservative commentator Ellen Berkowitz. Philip was at the other end of the kidney shaped table, sitting next to the ultra-liberal Albert Khan.

Philip took the time to straighten his dress uniform as he sat down. He had been informed earlier that the table and chairs would be adjusted so that no one would be physically sitting higher than anyone else. That placed the bottom part of his sternum level with the table. Looking to his right, each person had a bit more torso exposed above the table. He figured the top of Marsha's belt might peek over the edge. He removed his hat placing it on the table. Fortunately, he could discreetly scope himself out in the monitors. His hair remained in place. Sub-vocally he left a message reminding himself to thank Corporal Bradshaw's concubine Julia for the bulletproof hair.

Philip knew he had an unfair advantage. In his ear was not only the AI, but also the staff who worked under the Chief of Acquisition. They had access to the videos and typed notes of the Exposé International staff. His confidence remained at a high level. A piece of advice Julia had offered floated in his consciousness. "These people just want a sensationalized story and ratings."

"People," the voice came over the speaker system somewhere up in the overhead lighting. "We're going live in five, four, three..." There were six cameras across the table about twenty feet away. A man with a clipboard was marking the countdown with his arm. After the beat of one, he pointed at Ellen Berkowitz.

"Welcome to Exposé International, I am Ellen Berkowitz." She turned to look at her co-host.

"And I am Albert Kahn. Tonight as our guests we have Marsha Powers, from Mentis in Deum." Marsha tilted her head forward in aknowledgement. "And sitting next to me is Colonel Philip Reynolds of the Confederacy." Philip smiled slightly and likewise nodded.

Albert turned and looked at Ellen; she continued the show's opening. "Ever since the President's speech and the start of what are called 'extractions', there have been questions about how these extractions operate." The kidney shaped desk had a monitor built into the surface for each person seated. "For the majority of extractions, this is the view we have." The monitor showed an image of a medium-sized diner clouded by a gray wall. "Colonel," Ellen paused until Philip looked up at her. "If the idea is to gather volunteers, as the Confederacy calls them, why exclude any passersby who also might wish to volunteer?"

Philip put his elbows on the table and leaned a bit toward Ellen. "The ships at our disposal at the present time are not designed for mass evacuation. Though we have the capacity to take about five hundred people maximum per ship, logistically at this time it is difficult to process that many people in a quick manner." He shifted his eyes to Albert. "By restricting access, we hope to avoid any undue injury."

"It's what takes place inside those gray walls that generates the most interest." Marsha interjected herself into the conversation. "Affidavits given by survivors of these extractions color this activity differently. Forcible rape, families torn asunder, instant divorces, what happens to these people"

Philip countered factually, "Participation is voluntary."

Ellen slapped the table to refocus their attention, "I need to remind everyone that a treaty does exist between the United States and the Confederacy." She pointed at the large screen behind her and Albert. "This treaty defines the area inside the interdiction fields as temporarily under Confederacy jurisdiction."

Marsha cocked her head as a smirk flashed across her face. "Regardless of who has jurisdiction, it is what people are forced to do that we object to."

"No one is forced into service with the Confederacy." Philip made a conscious effort to keep from making a fist. "Anyone who has the appropriate Confederacy CAP card can choose, and I stress 'choose, ' whether to participate."

"Then how can you explain the piles of clothing left tossed about the floor?" Albert had turned to face Philip, his tone hinting at his present stress level. "And almost always, there are rejected victims left behind."

Marsha added a further condemnation. "Recovery for some of these people is impossible. The unwanted, instantly divorced, rejected spouses devoid of their significant other and their children are left to suffer alone."

Warnings buzzed into his ear via his implant. Philip paused, letting the tension build. "If a person chooses to volunteer or accepts becoming a concubine, the moment they verbalize that decision they enter into the Confederacy and become subject to the laws and regulations therein. Possessing a CAP card shows that you are willing to consider entry into the Confederacy."

"Colonel, presently the government is all but requiring people to be CAP tested." Ellen turned the conversation. "Are you saying that the United States Government is actively encouraging its citizens to abandon it?"

"This is a plot to destroy the United States," Marsha added. "Admit it, Colonel: you're part of a group that is seeking to control the world."

Albert broke the tension. "And at this point we must break for commercial."

Philip wilted under the assault coming to his implant. Sub-vocally he made a short plea. "One voice at a time, or change my name to Skitzo."

"I will filter and direct relevant comments to the colonel," the AI informed him. "Colonel, you need to stress the reality that Earth faces."

At his request, the AI took over control of the screen embedded in the table before him. Philip scrolled through the timeline of the Swarm's approach. On the screen next to the timeline, there were two columns. One column showed the average time it took to fill the ninety-six pods on an Aurora. The last column was a compilation of the basic instructions that the Marines running extractions found to be the most effective.

The director's voice notified everyone that the last commercial was ending. "We're coming back live in five, four, three."

"Welcome back to Exposé International." Albert turned to Philip. "Colonel, we had two questions proposed to you." He held up two fingers emphasizing questions. "First, can you respond to Ellen's question about the government encouraging its citizens to abandon it?"

Philip smiled, and took pains to maintain a calm visage. "One of the founding documents of the United States clearly defined the role of government: it should promote life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. For lack of a better term, a plague is coming to deny you life, destroy your liberty, and rain sorrow across the globe." He studied the others on the panel, watching his words sink in. "What I believe the United States government is doing is preserving some of her citizens by encouraging them to emigrate to new planets." He looked directly at the camera. "Those becoming soldiers are also following the American traditions of the Lafayette Escadrille from World War One and of the Eagle Squadrons and the Flying Tigers from World War Two. Once again, volunteers are being sent to meet a foe in a distant place."

There was silence. Neither of the commentators had a quick response. On the screen behind them, appeared images of P-40 War Hawks flying in formation with painted shark teeth. Philip decided to continue his point.

"Unlike the Axis Powers, the Swarm have nothing in common with us. They do not negotiate." On the set's main monitor, a short video showed Swarm Troopers attacking a forested area, in their wake the aliens left only upturned dirt and stacked cubes. "They do not give up, and they seek to dominate and consume. Our only recourse is to destroy them."

"Other than CGI doctored videos," Marsha interrupted, "there is no proof that such creatures even exist. Mentis in Deum is confident that no such threat exists."

"Why do you claim the videos are doctored?" Phillip pressed the point he was making. "Just what exactly would you consider proof?"

Marsha did not respond. She appeared to be flustered.

"Marsha, are you familiar with the story of Gideon?" Philip paused a moment, waiting until she nodded her head in answer.

"Yes," she finally verbalized, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"CAP testing is a way for the Confederacy to find those who drink water, from their cupped hands."

Philip could see Marsha grimace.

Albert ended the growing silence. "What then does the Confederacy do with those abandoned family members?"

"If by extraction potential hardships are fostered upon the family or an individual left behind, the Confederacy has, and will continue to provide financial support." Philip sat up a little bit straighter. He placed his palms flat on the desktop. "We are in a race to both save as many people as we can and to provide as many individuals who have the capacity and potential to stand up and fight here on Earth."

They broke into a commercial. Philip perused the set as the AI relayed congratulations. Looking at the forum members, he could tell everyone but Marsha was listening. The countdown began signaling that they were about to go live again.