Saint Joseph School

You Can't Go Home But You Can't Stay Here


14 December, 2007


Sometimes when you really need to be concentrating, you’ll get the oddest thoughts or questions stuck in your head.

“Are Rikti med-porters smart enough to re-assemble a warrior whose body is in two halves separated by most of a zone?”

I mean, is this really what I need to be worrying about when said Rikti’s twelve friends are still trying to turn me into plasma pudding? I guess I just found it odd. The poor bastard was halfway through when the portal ceased functioning, courtesy of a six foot shaft of pure flame wielded by yours truly. The green circle winked out and there he was for almost two whole seconds, an eternity in combat time, with a third of his body just not there and what I’m going to guess was a surprised look on his face. Then his med-porter kicked in and he teleported away. Did the porter grab his other leg and arm from wherever the other end of that portal was, or have I just crippled that sucker for life?

There was a time when I didn’t care what happened to Rikti fighters. Or, more accurately, I did care. I wanted them all dead. I wanted them to pay for what they did to my world. To my neighbourhood. To my father.

I got over that eventually. I learned things. About the Rikti. About myself. Then months later about the whole damn war. Nothing is ever what it looks like on the surface, I guess. I mean, I look like a happy, normal, teenage girl. Well, I can easily pass for twenty-five. Here’s hoping I can still say that in ten years…

But yeah, I try to look happy. Some days I can even be happy. Today is not one of those days…


“Okay, I’m here Kev. Now what was so important that you couldn’t tell me over the phone. I’m missing a big game.”

“I have some bad news, Erika. The motion to disallow your juvenile records as evidence didn’t carry.”

“That’s nuts! How the hell did that happen? You told me that was a no-brainer.”

“It’s a little confusing, but it seems the motion was never properly filed.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m shocked too, but it looks like David never submitted the paperwork.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!? Where is that jackass? I’m going to tear him a new one!”

“He’s not answering his phone. You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him or talked to him all week.”


The last of the Rikti psychics hits the ground with a thud. I spin in a circle, quickly scanning for more enemies, but it seems Pointe du Hoc is momentarily clear. I’m not alone, though. Two Vanguard troopers are watching me closely from thirty yards away. I have no idea how long they’ve been standing there watching me fight. I’m happy enough they never tried to help. I work better without distractions, and I’m not nearly as focused as I need to be right now. I nod in acknowledgement as they make their way across the rubble towards me.

“You alone?” one of them asks. Vanguard sometimes get nosey about stray heroes in the War Zone. Not that I blame them. Not everyone carrying arms out here is intent on battling the invaders. Of course, I’m not exactly a stray, but they don’t know that.

“Just me, Lieutenant,” I reply, noticing his rank insignia. I don’t really feel like chatting, but I’ve got no reason to brush him off. We are on the same side, after all. He takes off his helmet then, revealing a shock of thick reddish hair and a too-young face he’s trying to hide under a moustache and beard.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” he says, “but I don’t recognize you from the freelance roster.”

I decide to save time by just flashing my Identification card. He blinks at the Security Clearance. 50-MX. I don’t blame him for being surprised. There’s nothing about my appearance that says “Army”. The card also shows my Vanguard accreditation, dating back to last March. He blinks at that too, but I can see respect in his eyes now. He might have been serving since before the last invasion himself, he’s not that young looking, but there’s no way for me to tell.

“My name’s Greenwich,” he says, unexpectedly smiling and holding out his hand. “Alistair Greenwich. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Operative Cinder.” I shake his hand, pleased to note that he doesn’t try to impress me with his strong grip as so many guys tend to do. To my surprise, I find myself smiling back.

“Call me Erika. Nice to meet you too.”

22 December, 2007


The bunker shook as thunderous booms reverberated throughout the structure. Pebbles fell from the ceiling with each crash, like in an old war movie. But for tonight, the pounding came not from Rikti artillery, but from huge speakers set up for the B Company Christmas party. Next to them, a slightly sloshed Staff Sergeant was feeding a selection of dance and metal tunes into a massive CD player. He was no Jules, but Erika wasn’t really listening anyway, just enjoying the driving beats.

The briefing tables and ammo racks had been moved aside for the night to create a temporary dance floor, and a number of troopers were taking advantage of it. Stripped of their helmets and uniforms, the Vanguard recruits looked shockingly like what they really were… a cross-section of young people from around the world, from different backgrounds and cultures, united in their desire to rid the world of the Rikti invaders. And for tonight at least, united in their desire to party like there was no tomorrow.

Because for some of them, tomorrows were in limited supply.

Erika herself had put in some time on the dance floor, finding release as always in any kind of physical activity. She’d had no shortage of willing partners. B Company had already begun referring to her as “their” hero, acknowledging several recent incidents where her intervention had turned the tide in skirmishes with the Rikti. It was a strange and heady feeling for the young mutant. She’d always kept a low profile when patrolling in the city, and while many of her fellow students looked up to her, it was new and somehow weird to receive respect and admiration from adults. It was intoxicating and unnerving at the same time.

Speaking of intoxicating, there was no shortage of liquor floating around this party. Taking a break from the dance floor, Erika grabbed a screwdriver from the impromptu bar table and headed for the corner where a group of non-coms and junior officers were talking shop. She’d meant to just sit and listen, but surprisingly, they started asking her questions, looking for an outsider’s perspective on the recent fighting. With the alcohol loosening her tongue, she soon went beyond answering questions and actually started to dominate the conversation.

“No, no, Corporal. Their strategy completely changed this time,” she was saying, in response to some idiotic suggestion to dredge up tactics that worked against the first Rikti invasion. “Five years ago they tried to wage a conventional war. They hit infrastructure. Power, transportation, manufacturing, all that shit.” A few of the officers were nodding, but not everyone got where she was going.

“So, what does that have to do with our tactics?” the obstinate Corporal countered. “We took the initiative away from them last time, and we need to do the same thing now.”

“Because if you understand what they’re trying to accomplish, you can predict what they’re going to do. THEN you can take the initiative from them. Strategy first. Tactics second. Capeesh?”

“So what’s their strategy, Clausewitz?” Erika blinked at the Corporal’s jab, having no idea who Clausewitz was but understanding that she was being mocked. Fortunately, she had an answer for him.

“The first invasion failed because they didn’t have a plan to counter meta-human opposition. You know, heroes. They knew they’d be facing them, and they had developed tactics for fighting them on the field, but they hadn’t anticipated the operational possibilities that metas gave us. Hence… Omega Team. They never saw that coming. A conventional force, no matter how strong, could never have done that.”

“Wait,” interrupted another Corporal, although with more respect than his comrade. “What do you mean they knew they’d be facing metas? I thought those were a complete surprise to them?” Erika started to answer, but then thought better of it when she caught B Company’s 2iC looking at her significantly.

“If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,” she finally replied. The Corporal started to object, but fell silent when the 2iC tapped him on the shoulder. Captain Margaret Haynes was a young officer, but she had that solid air of authority that seemed to work even without words.

“Go on, Erika,” she said quietly. “Tell us how their strategy changed.” Erika nodded gratefully in response, happy to have the conversation directed away from potential exposition of classified information.

“Okay, they’re not stupid. Entirely. So they figured out that they lost the first time ‘cause of metas. So this time, their ENTIRE strategy was built around eliminating them.”

“What do you mean?” someone asked.

“Well, look at their raiding patterns? Where do they hit?”

“They’re raiding all over the place. I thought they were trying to spread us thin.”

“No, what they’re doing is attacking residential areas or places where there are people. And they’re doing it haphazardly too. They just drop bombs at random. No attempt to hit proper military or industrial targets. They’re perfectly capable of deploying precision attacks if they wanted. They could be hitting energy and transportation and utilities, but they don’t bother. In fact, I’ve seen them go out of their way to avoid damaging our transportation net. Because that would interfere with their strategy.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the point?”

“The point is to attack places that heroes will rush to defend. The military is deployed to defend conventional targets. You guys are concentrated here. But when they raid some militarily pointless zone like King’s Row, who rushes to defend it? Heroes, that’s who. Hell, even the pacifist anti-war heroes will rush to protect civilians.”

“Okay, I see that, but I still don’t see the point of it.”

“Once the heroes are drawn in, that’s when ground troops are committed. And who do their troops go after? The heroes. NOT the civilians. NOT the scattering of potentially meaningful strategic targets that do exist in those zones. Just the heroes. Their entire strategy was based on meta attrition. They wanted to draw in, wear down, and kill our heroes. Fortunately, they failed. We weathered the storm.”

A lot of heads were nodding now, as the Vanguard troopers followed the logic of Erika’s theory. They didn’t all agree, of course, but they all saw some validity to it. Corporal Delacroix still had objections though.

“That’s not their entire strategy. Come on! What about what’s going on here? THIS is the War Zone. THIS is what it’s all about. The VANGUARD are the lead in this fight, not you heroes. And those raids are designed to spread you all out, like Washburn just said. Their strategy is centred here, with the portals they’re building under that ship. When they can bring enough supplies through, they’ll get that thing in the air again and gain an incredible advantage.”

“Are you nuts? That thing is never gonna fly again, and they know it as well as we do. It’s just another trap for heroes. Kind of a static version of what they’re doing with the raids. That’s why they keep all their best troops there. It’s too tempting a target. They suck us into raiding it, then they hit us hard. More attrition.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. I respect your ability to fight, but you don’t know squat about real war. You should leave the planning to the professionals. None of what you’re saying makes sense, right Captain?” The Corporal turned to the 2iC for confirmation, but the officer shook her head slightly before responding.

“Actually Corporal, I’ve heard similar theories advanced in some of the planning sessions I’ve attended. There are quite a few Vanguard strategists saying exactly what Miss Raeder just did.” The Captain looked over to the young mutant with a hint of a smile. “I am curious though,” she continued, “about your certainty that the zone raids are focused entirely on eliminating heroes.”

“Oh, that’s the one part I’m completely convinced of, Captain. The ground troops are actually targeting us.”

“That just follows though, if you’re there, I mean. They’re forced to respond to the hero presence.”

“Oh, I don’t just mean targeting us during the fighting. I mean they’re actually tracking and locating us, and sending troops wherever we are. Personally, I think they’re homing in on our med-badges.”

Around the room, eyebrows were raised in surprise and concern. Captain Haynes put down her drink and reached for her communicator. Corporal Washburn was the first one to actually speak.

“They’re what?”