More of his reptilian adversaries continued southward on Rt. 701 in a raggedy column of artillery pieces and supply wagons while still more vacated an adhoc hard-point in Salemburg and retreated along Rt. 242 south.
Judging by their actions, it seemed to Shepherd that the Hivvans had not yet established reliable communications between their scattered formations and did not know where and how the human army deployed.
A communique from Gordon Knox detailed Intelligence’s opinion that the best opportunity for the Hivvan force to regroup would come if the smaller bands coalesced at the Bladen Lakes State Forest, roughly in the center of the pocket humanity hoped to box them into, and a scenario that appeared highly likely.
That suited Shep just fine. Hopefully by then the 1 ^ st and 2 ^ nd Divisions will have reached their objectives and cut off the enemy supply lines, lines already searching for their dispersed comrades.
Once those two depots fell to Shepherd and Stonewall, the Hivvans would be trapped and they would either starve or strangle in a tightening noose of artillery and air power.
As rosy as the plan sound, General Jerry Shepherd faced a bear of a problem that Sunday morning.
While Trevor and JB Stone flew south toward Blacksburg, Shep waited on the tarmac of Wilmington International Airport and contemplated his next move. The idea of investing the port city a short distance to his south did not sit well in his belly.
By all accounts, Wilmington stood in much better shape than most cities, in that it did not include an organized alien garrison and the worst of the extraterrestrial predators prowling its streets did not seem as nasty as those found in places like Pittsburgh or Philadelphia.
Indeed, Gordon Knox’s intelligence teams made contact weeks ago with a group of humans who carved out an existence on Masonboro Sound along the coast.
Nonetheless, going through downtown would slow his boys and invite pest attacks from all manner of bad things.
Besides, Shepherd saw a real chance to reach Conway before Stonewall hit Dillon. That would make for great fun at the next military meeting.
Those considerations led Jerry Shepherd to a major decision certain to cause waves. He had authorized the use of two C-141 Starlifters (taken after liberating Andrews Air Force Base last year). Those transport planes sucked aviation fuel even more greedily than fat kids eat candy or take to cream filling. Considering all the air power deployed to befuddle the Hivvans (nearly 50 sorties a day), it meant Southern Command gobbled about seventy-five percent of ‘The Empire’s’ jet fuel and around 90 % of available pilots.
He eyed the two behemoths taxiing in along the primary runway from his position outside the main terminal. While doing little more than idling, their engines still dominated the air with a droning hum while the smell of fuel covered everything.
Those planes brought with them Shepherd’s plan for dealing with Wilmington. And he must deal with Wilmington. Bypassing it completely would leave a hostile-infested city dangerously close to his supply lines. Furthermore, the city sat on a key junction of roads serving as a critical hinge in the developing trap.
Besides, a cleared Wilmington could be used as a supply distribution point. In addition to the benefits its sea and airports offered, the city was a significant railway hub.
In any case, the planes taxied to a stop and, after a few minutes, rear cargo ramps opened and lowered to the pavement.
The Hunter-Killers arrived.
Trevor Stone was the only human capable of giving complex orders to the Grenadiers. However, post-Armageddon canines came in to the world better trained than any police dogs Shepherd ever worked with during a long career in old-world military and law enforcement.
They responded fast to a wide range of commands and could-on some level-communicate with their human masters through barks and whines. No detailed information, but it did not take Trevor Stone to know when a Grenadier caught whiff of a predator or heard the cry of a human being.
K9s organized in ‘Legions’ of about 500, further broken down into groups of 100 called “Centuries.” Colored collars identified the organization, primarily for the benefit of their human masters: the dogs grew up and trained with each other, becoming a large pack that worked and stayed together as if by instinct.
Human “hunters” commanded Centuries in a loose manner. If you asked a hunter, he would probably admit he just got in the way half of the time.
However, there was the other half of the time, too. Those were the times when K9s faced foes sporting ranged or heavy weapons as well as when they came against the nastier, larger predators that could easily cut through a hundred dogs in a few minutes. Things like Goat-Walkers or a pack of Jaw-Wolves or a Shadow or a Proto-Mass.
Each Grenadier legion included a heavy-weapons Hunter team to combat these more dangerous threats.
The H-K groups straddled a line between military and Internal Security. Most of the time, I.S. coordinated and deployed the groups although military field commanders often took direct control of the teams during situations just like the one faced at Wilmington by Shepherd.
The engines on the planes slowly spooled down from loud to quiet to off. As they did, groups of black-clad humans, fierce looking Doberman Pinschers, Rottweilers, German shepherds, and Belgian Malinois’, as well as cargo and equipment off-loaded from the transports.
Usually Hunter-Killer teams did not operate in groups larger than a legion. For Wilmington, Shepherd used his influence with Dante Jones to have four legions placed at his disposal.
For the assault on Wilmington, an officer of Shepherd’s choosing would coordinate command of the Hunter-Killers, and he knew exactly whom he wanted for the job.
Nina Forest exited the terminal building and joined the General. The planes and their disembarking passengers stood one hundred yards away.
“Is this the last of them?”
Shep told her, “I reckon so. You got enough?”
“You sure you want me for this? You’re going to piss off some of the H-K commanders when they hear you put a field-operator in charge of this.”
“Screw them,” he replied, as his eyes remained focused on the planes. “You did a damn good job in Harrisburg and Trenton and you did it fast. That’s what I need.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just saying, we were a lot smaller than. Now we’ve got all sorts of chains of command and people get their panties in a twist real quick when their toes get stepped on.”
“Anyone thinking like that will get a boot up their ass. You know the boss isn’t much for red tape or bureaucracy. I’m putting in you in charge and that’s the end of the conversation as far as anyone is concerned. Your track record is pretty good. Use the Wolves as necessary. Sweep that city, clear it out, and cover my ass while we head south. Think you can handle that?”
The Captain answered, “Nothing to it.”
Shepherd turned and stared her directly in the eye.
“Nina, I mean it, I got to get my boys over to seventeen today and start going south fast to finish up this little trap we’ve put together. I can’t be worrying about what’s going on behind me. I need you to take this city. I need you to do it fast.”
Nina furled her brow and spat, “Which part of ‘nothing to it’ didn’t you understand?”
He could not help but smile. She was not being arrogant- okay, maybe a little — instead she was, in her mind, simply stating a fact.
After all, one way or another she always got the job done.
The city of Wilmington, North Carolina provided a perfect example of what happened to humanity’s sprawling concrete and steel jungles in the five years since the invasion. Unlike Richmond and Raleigh, no large organized alien army bothered with this port city. Instead, a new ecosystem grew over the old.