Cenerea, 3rd planet from the star Letria, Regalius, The Confederation,

Central Region, The Capitol City,

Two Regions West of the ERU Particle Accelerator,

Central Region Military Lab beneath Univ-Trans Laboratories,

Forty-Three Cenerean Years Ago

Wendy Powell pressed the Return key on the virtual keyboard projected onto her desk. The terminal screen displayed, "...all system checks have completed successfully. Do you wish to activate?"

"Yes!!!" the young woman blurted, raising her arms in triumph. "Whoohoo!" she shouted and began dancing around the lab to the song playing on her headphones. "Oh yeah, oh yeah! You're awesome, you're awesome!" It was sort of an odd, booty shaking, impromptu victory dance.

As a devout workaholic, Wendy typically had no fear of observation, because as usual, she was the only one still working in the lab at this late hour of the night. Then again, she could never be too sure..."You are looking very silly right now, Wendy. You might want to calm down before someone comes in and..."

A Security Patrolman quietly poked his head into the lab shining his flashlight around the room. The beam of light illuminated banks of servers and electronic test equipment as the guard panned it across the dark space. It finally landed on a strange woman gyrating around in the dark with outstretched arms. She stopped.

"Yaawwwnnn!! Oh man, I am sooo tired..." Wendy said quickly.

"Are you okay in here, ma'am?" the patrol officer asked. "I heard shouting and wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"Yes...um, yes I am thank you. I am just a bit sleepy. You caught me in the middle of stretching..." Wendy produced a nervous cheesy smile. "You can return to patrolling or whatever."

"Yes ma'am." The security guard raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and continued down the hall. "Cute, but weird."

Wendy's current assignment, the newly coined Project Geneticus, was previously designated Project Defender. She changed the name to honor her brilliant, late father, Gene Atticus Powell who had started the project but passed away during its initial phase of creation over four years before. She also found the name to be convenient due to the human genetic component found in its design, her DNA, because Wendy understood she would never be able to pass on her genetics in any other form. Sadly, Wendy was unable to have children of her own and as a result, she just created them. The large killing kind.

Although the idea of Geneticus was initially her father's, Wendy was the true mastermind behind the programming and engineering of the project. Its goal was to develop a one-of-a-kind bio-electronic artificial intelligence machine. "Sort of a 'one-stop-shop' defense system", she often mused. A device not just capable of controlling the various battlefield elements, but a thinking device, an artificial intelligence able to provide a completely secure intelligent network defense system; A master unit conducting online and 'real world' warfare all in coordination. She understood it was a tall order, but she knew it was a necessary one. The Confederation needed to have a safety net and she was going to create it.

...

Wendy was top of her class each of the three years she attended Eastern Region's State University, her father's alma mater. At the completion of her third year, she was recruited by the Eastern Region Defense Forces (ERDF), leaving University out of necessity, not accomplishment.

Typically, the various high paying corporations as well as the lower paying Regional Defense Forces snatched up most of the fourth year students just prior to graduation. Each jockeyed for the best of the best of that year's crop of brains. This early and very odd career move really surprised everyone who had ever known her. Although it was actually a welcome event for several otherwise brilliant ERSU students who were always relegated to basking in her academic shadow. They just never understood why she would join the low paying ERDF of all places.

As a rule, the young woman outperformed every peer in every grade of every hall of learning she ever attended, and usually with a couple months of class time to spare. It was believed she could have written her own signing bonus check and salary for just about any firm out there. Yet, Wendy the genius, strangely bailed out in her third year with no prior warning.

...

Wendy, as a prodigious young child was continually bored in school, never content with what she would discover or create. She soaked up information like a sponge. Dates, places, equations, almost anything would do, just to quiet the 'whatever it was' she was internally driven by. It seemed Wendy was as addicted to knowledge as medicinal addicts were addicted to narcotics.

The young girl would often wake from dreams that seemed to be nothing more than numbers or bursts of code born from swirling clouds of numerical mist. Not strange events, people, or places like everyone else...the dreams were mostly digital in nature.

Sometimes it was a landscape of binary patterns and electrical discharge or a string of numbers shaped in some odd formula that did not make sense to her young mind at the time. However, Wendy, unlike other girls of her age who input their hopes and secrets into a diary, would unfailingly record whatever strings or logarithmic sequences she could remember into her notepad. The child always found that she could retain most of her dream-borne information as soon as she woke up, so, she usually slept with her digital notebook under a pillow. Wendy never knew why she always had such an internal need to record it all, but she always dutifully obeyed those inner instincts.

Gene, her kind and loving father, a genius in his own right, would often comment that the prodigious Wendy seemed to be"...plugged directly into the ether." and would laughingly vocalize his jealousy over the observation. "One day you are going to change the world, my darling girl."

Wendy loved this man more than anything else on Cenerea. He was the only soul in the universe she felt that understood the burden of insatiable intelligence she possessed. When the man died on assignment while Wendy was away at Eastern Region State University (ERSU), she was understandably devastated.

Edna, Wendy's mother, sold their family home and moved into an apartment to be near her daughter. She could tell that her young university student was spiraling into depression. The woman knew if she did not step in to help her little girl, she might drop out or worse, flunk out of school and that would be as equally devastating to the brilliant young girl's psyche as her father's death. Edna convinced her daughter to keep going and the two became each other's unfailing source of support in dealing with Gene's passing.

At the end of her third year at ERSU, her mother, in one more strange and tragic twist of fate that was becoming Wendy Powell's life, fell ill. She was now in desperate need of medical care...care the Eastern Region Health Assistance, or ERHA, programs could not provide. The ERHA said the experimental treatments for the unknown affliction were experimental, had low survival rates, and ultimately too costly to even attempt.

The girl insisted it was discrimination due to her mother's age. The ERHA was unfazed. Regardless of the validity of Wendy's claims or protestations, there was still no way to provide her mother with the care she needed if they would not help. She could not make the faceless government organization do anything they did not want to do. Wendy just could not afford it on her own with the meager stipend the state provided while going to ERSU.

As fate would have it, the ERDF kindly offered Wendy an opportunity to enlist with them as a Level I Military Scientist in exchange for her mother's much needed medical attention. "...out of respect for your late father" she was told at her interview by the smiling ERDF Recruitment Officer.

The new civilian recruit straight out of university, one gung-ho Ms. Powell, was more than happy to dive headlong into her new job as a lab assistant more or less, taking to research and development as fish take to water. However, Wendy's first year of Service was not to be trouble free. Wendy received a heart-wrenching message from the Military hospital where her mother was receiving treatment. It seemed that the mysterious disease afflicting her remaining parent had spread much further than the doctors first thought. They informed Wendy her mother passed away unexpectedly in her sleep. All of the treatments were sadly in vain just as the ERHA had indicated might happen. Wendy, although emotionally devastated at the loss of her remaining parent, still knew the ERDF medical service had done as promised and tried everything they could to save her mother.

After the funeral, Wendy threw herself into her work. Now fully vested in only one purpose, Wendy served the only family she had left, the Eastern Region Defense Force. She did so, wholeheartedly. She outpaced her peers just as in school rather quickly. Colleagues became assistants. Supervisors became the supervised. While everyone else was climbing ladders, Wendy took an elevator.

The Top Secret Confederation Coalition Military Council in the Central Region Capitol with all of their impatient qualities still knew to take things slowly. They acquired the aggressive Wendy from the ERDF and cautiously placed her in charge of a small classified Confederation research and development team operating out of the ERDF's weapons lab just to see how she performed. Ultimately what happened made those same Military leaders dance around like giddy school girls...behind closed doors that is.

Wendy and her team began to churn out advancement after advancement almost effortlessly. The busier Wendy found herself, the less she thought about the sadness tearing her up inside. The less sleep she got, the less her dreams haunted her. Working on Confederation Military projects, jobs they were more than happy to provide in a steady stream seemed to quell Wendy's thirst for knowledge.

It took nearly two years for Wendy and her small research and development team to complete her first exciting advancement in state security. A semi-autonomous crowd control and policing unit; the intended use for the proposed machine was to discern potential threats by analyzing vital signs and brain activity of assembled people en masse.

Utilizing Wendy's self-designed semi-autonomous neuro A.I. to scan for trouble enabled the system to detect a threat in any crowd. It would provide the unit the capability to eliminate the danger before it did any major damage. Coined GERTI, the Group Environment Recon Telemetry Intelligence device, paired with an experimental bipedal UX-64 sentinel mech served as a wonderful visual deterrent and actual security agent. This combined prototype, designated the UX-64A was the solution the Confederation brass was looking for in a crowd controlling, peacekeeping machine and today was the day Wendy was going to let them see it in action.

...

Wendy waved her hand in front of her face in an attempt to clear the dirty air surrounding her. The goggles on her eyes and rebreather covering her nose and mouth protected her from the smoke laden dust. However, they did nothing to improve her vision in the cloud enveloping her on the simulated battlefield. Wendy peered through the smoke and imagined she saw something moving. It looked like a shadowy figure forming in the filthy air. This silhouette grew larger and as it did, clanging mechanical sounds, the roar of an engine, and several servos moving in cooperation increased in tandem. "There you are," she thought.

"Thump, thump, thump..."

The feet of the whining mechanical beast pounded the ground, vibrating it as it approached. It stopped a few meters short of Wendy and her entourage of several Confederation Military Coalition officers. Its engine exhaust ports created small whirlwinds of dust and generated a noise similar to a slowing jet engine as it began the process of resting. The hydraulic systems of the two 'arms' of the unit hissed. The fearsome appendages pointing toward the Military personnel slowly dropped to the ground. Wendy noted each were equipped with light machine guns and a trio of small tactical missiles. She always left the weaponry decisions to the brass.

...

A middle-aged Central Region Military (CRM) officer in camouflage fatigues noted the absence of rank on the uniform of a petite woman standing next to him. He assumed in a very chauvinistic manner she was probably either the inventor's assistant or some intern for some politician. Either way, he was going to break the ice and see if he could strike up a conversation. Whatever her face looked like, he could tell the body would more than make up for. "She could always keep the mask on..." he thought. The officer slowly leaned his head over to the small feminine figure standing next to him and whispered, "That's a new UX-64A Sentinel Mech unit, sweetie. Just in case you didn't know." He winked.

The twenty-three year-old Wendy could see the condescending gesture through the man's mask lens. She pulled her re-breather off, lifted the goggles from her eyes, revealing a very pretty young face, and smiled.

"She's beautiful, too! This is going very well," the officer thought, grinning beneath his mask.

Wendy's smile faded. "Thank you, I know what it is. I invented it, darling."

"Oh," the uniformed man sniffed and quickly straightened himself up.

"That should be the end of that," Wendy thought and then returned her attention to her terrifying newborn baby.

The GERTI unit on the frightening mech spotted Wendy as she stepped forward toward it, turning slightly. It spoke to her in a menacing digital growl. "Creator, what are your instructions."

Wendy patted the man on the shoulder and startled him. She laughed as she strode up to the front of the behemoth. The three cameras making up the mech's visual sensory array on the front of its smooth round central housing focused their lenses on the young woman.

Wendy placed her hand on one of the nanitanium arms. "Tell me which one of the Military officers in our group is not an officer in the Confederation Coalition, unit one."

"Yes, creator." The mech unit's servos in its right arm began to spin lifting it. The A.I. pointed the weapon covered appendage straight ahead, parallel with the ground. Three vertical laser-generated lines formed on the head of one uniformed, high-ranking and clearly frightened, cross-eyed general. Then it moved to another and then another. On the forehead of the fourth, the three lines rotated and locked into the shape of a triangle. "This man is lying about his identity. He wears a uniform and rank, however, he is not in any armed service. His thoughts and physiological measurements betray him."

"Step forward and identify yourself, imposter," Wendy stated coldly.

The triangle disappeared from the forehead of a tall, thin man in his early twenties as he stepped forward, hands in the air. "D-d-don't shoot! Man, I hate that thing, Wendy..."

"Everyone, let's thank, Zak. He's one of my lab assistants. He is in fact the only one that was brave enough to do this. This mech unit has managed to scare the shit out of everyone at the lab," Wendy said, "'cept me. You're just a big ol' deadly baby, huh, unit one?" Wendy patted the machine on its front housing and smiled at the entourage of jumpy officers.

"Well, I for one have seen enough," said a General with a Western Region Defense Forces (WRDF) patch on his shoulder. "Just the sight of these things on patrol should deter most trouble. I am willing to run a trial with this machine in my Region, immediately. I have been having issues with those Sub-Region scumbags crossing over the mountains and looting my towns looking for food. Several of my WRDF soldiers have been fired upon, two of which were injured severely. If this thing can save the lives of my troops, I am in."

Wendy grinned proudly. "Very well, I will get with my superiors at Confederation Headquarters and see what we can do. Anyone else interested?"

Within two months of active public service, Wendy received a link to a local Regional military report regarding the use of the mech units. The data read that GERTI's had saved hundreds of lives by isolating a group of rebels seeking to detonate explosives in the Western Region's Capitol Market Square. Her invention had terminated the threat with little collateral damage. She was thrilled to find out that after this one event, her UX-64A's were deploying throughout the Confederation of Regions to defend the citizenry from all threats, internally and externally. Wendy was now using her capabilities for the safety of the Confederation's citizens, just as her father would have done.

Wendy's third year included a much larger budget and staff. Her lab was the lead on the development of a genetically matched self-repairing smart body bio-armor. Its main purpose was to protect the soldier wearing it. Wendy began hearing rumors her Symbiotic Armor Survival System A.I. was nicknamed the 'Sassy-Suit' by several soldiers who trialed it in the field. She found the term endearing. It always made her smile hearing the phrase spoken so nonchalantly in conversations with the very serious Military personnel with which she interacted. There was no doubt that the 'Sassy-Suit' was becoming more than just a simple battlefield survival device. It was becoming the standard issue field uniform.

Wendy had designed the armor's operating system to calculate probabilities of survival for not only its wearer but, borrowing on some of her early experiments into the new field of self-aware artificial intelligence, she introduced this concept to battlefield safety equipment; armor with a limited self-awareness of its own mortality. She had theorized that a symbiotic relationship based on survival could potentially increase battlefield life expectancy of soldiers exponentially.

Essentially, if the host died, the armor died. Designed with the ability to repair itself and genetically matched to its wearer, it could heal the host soldier with onboard first aid biomaterials as if they were both one entity. Combatants were now able to have their wounds repaired almost immediately and could potentially return to battle in a few hours if not shorter.

Neurally transmitted recommendations directing the host soldier's combat activity were the armor's final feature. The A.I. fed slightly better than real-time data directly from the sensors of the armor into the brain of the soldier under fire. This not only increased their mental reaction time, but their physical speed and stamina as well. In fact, if the host soldier became wounded beyond the suit's restorative capabilities and resulted in a loss of consciousness, the neurological connection between the wearer and the worn allowed the 'Sassy-Suit' to take over and assist the soldier to safety.

Wendy declared the device to be one more proverbial nail in the coffin of any Confederation enemy.

Over the ensuing months, the impact of what these suits could do and what she had accomplished rapidly became a nightly news story. Images of violent combat began making the front pages of the info circuits. Terrorists sprang up virtually overnight in the Sub-Regions. There were vicious bombings in the poverty-stricken Regional Housing Complexes, leveling buildings and killing hundreds. These attacks became increasingly destructive as more and more of her inventions came online to protect the citizens.

Sub-Region terrorists and Confederation Defense Forces (CDF) gunned it out several times a week in live broadcasts on the informational monitors across the Confederation. She watched live news video streaming images of Sassy-suit clad soldiers taking fire in some very heated skirmishes, almost always defeating their opponents with quick resolve in very nearly scripted fashion.

The public began to obsess over these news feeds nearly as much if not more than fictional cinematic video. This phenomenon brought about a rapid change in the public mindset. For the first time in history, Regions, previously lifelong enemies, were now rallying together. People in the north cried as they watched some unknown Arcturan soldier slowly die on their information monitor at home. She gave her last breath live on screen begging a soldier from the Eastern Region to tell her children she loved them. The camera zoomed in as the other soldier wept holding the woman's hand.

Western Region homes cheered as Southeast Regional forces rescued children from a burning school. Citizens everywhere rallied behind their brave troops battling this mysterious foe threatening them from the other side of the mountains. They no longer cared about the patches on the uniforms.

Over time, Confederation troops of every stripe began to train, run combat exercises, and camp together. Various Regional Military agencies shared information, slowly linking some of their networks. People became less Regional and more united, marching under the flag of the Confederation.

During one of the evening video clips, several camouflaged soldiers from Unit 148-7 left the safety of their trench in a final attempt to break a dangerous impasse. The six fearless infantrymen ran headlong through the forest into a hail of bullets. It was a desperate attempt to take out an embedded force of ragtag terrorists systematically killing their brethren with a large machine gun. They screamed the words, "For the good of the Homeland!" as they ran. The brave soldiers fell one-by-one, victims of the bullets piercing their bodies. Emboldened by their comrades, more soldiers shouted the words and leapt to their feet to run through the hail of hot metal to swarm their foes eventually defeating the enemy in glorious victory...

... 

Cenerea, 3rd planet from the star Letria. Regalius, Western Sub-Region,

Quadrant 8966.27-0325.42

Forty-Three Cenerean Years Ago

"Keep your heads down, ladies! Unless you all want to go home in a body bag!" Sergeant Major Reed Sowell shouted over the sputtering machine gun, burping from the tree line. He could hear the metal projectiles whizzing above his head like angry high-speed insects zipping through the steamy woodland air. The battle worn soldier knew as soon as he and his troops stood from the safety of the drainage ditch it was all over. The odds of them all surviving, of seeing one more Letrian morning, were slim to none if they dared dash out onto the field toward their Sub-Region enemies. Luckily, they only had to park it and wait.

The sergeant detached his helmet from his Sassy Suit and set it on the wet concrete surface of the trench. He fished a rag from a pocket on the breast of his camouflage fatigues, wiped the sweat from his face and neck with the tattered material, and shoved it roughly back into his uniform.

"Sergeant Major Sowell!" a young man shouted running down the ditch with his head lowered. He flinched with each projectile that whizzed above. Out of breath, the soldier slammed up against the curved concrete surface next to his superior, the armor clattering as it made contact with the rough wall. "Comm's reporting bad news on the 22nd, they ain't gonna be here with the mechs. Their old troop transport broke down!"

"Dammit! That's why we can't have nice things," the sergeant said. He spat, peering down the ditch at the soldiers under his command nervously gripping their weapons or fiddling with their Sassies. "Anything from Confederation Central Command?"

"Nope, Sergeant, Triple C ain't sayin' nothing," the grunt replied, flinching once more as several more projectiles zipped over his head and kicked up dirt behind him.

"What about aerialcraft support?"

"Weather's keeping the air jockey's grounded, I'm told."

"Oh, C'mon! It's like they want us to die. They even have cameras up on that hill over there so they can watch it." The sergeant thrust a thumb up over his shoulder. "I noticed a fucking reflection comin' off one of the damn lenses earlier. I checked 'em out with my binoc's. This is the second time I have seen that strange shit. Seems like the info channels have better intel on where shit's gonna hit the fan than Triple C."

"I dunno, sarge, but what are you goin' ta do?"

"What else? We are gonna take the bastards out, Bullet," he said reconnecting his helmet, 148-7's Sergeant Major closed his eyes and made a quick mental run-through of his team's roster. It was now his decision to flip the coin on the lives of the fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters holed up with him. He tapped the comm embedded in his helmet, "Okay! Toras, Dart, Sack, Mako, and Bullet, you too." He poked the young man sitting beside him. "You guys are with me. Let's get ready to go! Those Sub bastards are embedded in that old bunker in the tree line. It's time to go clean 'em out!"

"Roger that, Sergeant!" they squawked back over the communication system and quickly collected their gear.

"There's something you are supposed to do, Reed," the sergeant thought to himself. He couldn't remember what his team was supposed to do with all hell breaking loose around him.

"What was it? Well, must not have been too important..." He squeezed his rifle and watched the five soldiers slide up next to him. "Keep your noggin's down people, and follow me."

The six infantrymen splashed a few hundred meters through the concrete drainage ditch keeping their heads down as they walked. They needed to get as close to the trees on the other side as possible. Unfortunately, the large rut they used for cover was separated from the edge of the forest by a very wide and very open grassy field.

The sergeant estimated the area was large enough to land a fairly decent sized aerialcraft without too much trouble. Unfortunately for his team, that was not going to happen today. He raised a hand to stop the squad of soldiers at the spot the two points of safety, the ditch and the trees, came close enough to each other that they might make it if they ran hard enough. This was where their Sassy Suits were going to come in handy. He activated the armor's A.I. system.

"What are your commands, Sergeant Major?" the digital voice inquired.

"Evasive and speed enhancements, I am going to need everything you can give me."

"Roger, will do," the machine responded in a preprogrammed but still familiar way.

"Oh, and darken the camouflage a bit, too. It will make it harder for them to see us when we hit the woods."

"Acknowledged." The Sassy Suit's color slowly faded to a darker deep forest green. "Would you like survivability estimates?"

"No, don't tell me. I am pretty sure I already know." Sowell took a deep breath and exhaled as he plopped back against the concrete tube's wall. "Alright, straight ahead toward the trees, that's where we're headed," he said, looking intently at the five young faces staring back at him and pointed over his shoulder, indicating their path. They all looked in unison at the direction he pointed. "I want you guys to all run out with me on three. They will just pick us off if we try to go out one at a time."

Bullet patted his armor, "Okay, Asshat, it's you and me, buddy."

The young man's Sassy responded flatly, "Understood, Bullet."

The Sergeant looked over at the youthful infantryman kneeling beside him. "Why do you call that thing Asshat? That's kinda shitty considering it's supposed to help keep you safe an' all."

"Nah, sarg, it's a term of endearment. I call it Asshat 'cause it's coverin' this grunt's ass!" he said with a grin.

The older man raised an eyebrow, thought about it for a moment, and then laughed. The activity helped release some of his nervousness, but not nearly enough. He patted Bullet on his armored shoulder, "Asshat it is. Okay, everyone ready?"

"Yes, sergeant!" the soldiers said in unison.

"Wait a sec," Reed raised a finger, suddenly remembering the command he was given by Triple C. It was a fairly innocuous request and kind of stupid, but in his line of work there isn't much you can say when the brass is giving orders. The order was to shout, "For the Good of the Homeland!" in the event they were in a situation like this. As the sergeant sat thinking about the directive he began to wonder, "How would they know that Unit 148-7 in particular would be in a spot like this where such an action would be applicable?" Then he thought about the cameras on the hill. "If I didn't know any better, we're being setup..."

"Sarge? Are we goin'?" asked PFC Dart, her lovely face smudged and terse.

The older man shook it off as being ridiculous. "Alright, one last thing Triple C wants us to...okay, this is going to sound stupid, but since there are cameras up on that hill over there, we need to do it. When you run across the field to the woods, shout For the Good of the Homeland!"

"Huh? Won't that give us away?" asked Sack, the staff sergeant on temporary assignment with the Unit from the Central Region Defense Forces. He was just one of several people selected to participate in a new experimental cooperative initiative cooked up by Confederation and had really grown on Sowell. Especially since Sack was the first guy to ever drink the sergeant under the table, earning him immediate respect in the 148-7.

"It won't matter, Sack. As soon as we pop our heads up over this ridge, it's game on."

"What the hell does it even mean?" Staff Sargeant Mako inquired with a funny look on his face.

"I have no idea, Mako. Just do it and don't slow down whatever you do! You all hear me? Your lives are way more important than some general's strange verbal fetish, got me?"

"Yes, Sergeant Major!!!"

"Very well, let's go bop some Subs! Get ready to jump and run...One. Two. Three!"

"For the Good of the Homeland!!!"

... 

Soon, the phrase was echoing across the land, "For the good of the Homeland!" crowds would shout at sporting events, political rallies, schools, and even in the typically un-Regionalist, open universities.

If not for the apparent actual bloodshed and the injured soldiers returning from the battlefield, Wendy would have never believed what she was seeing. The Sub-Region citizens she had met were always kind, minus the occasional overzealous religious nut or grabby alcoholic.

Some of the time, when her team passed through a remote village, they would be swarmed by scores of curious, happy children crowding around her and the other scientists and soldiers. Other times it was smiling people trying to sell them their home crafted wares or clothing. No one ever pulled a weapon or raised a fist. Very few even raised their voice unless they were partying or arguing amongst themselves.

They were typically very colorful, with all of their differing cultures, food, and interesting languages. Besides sampling new recipes, she loved learning a few words here and there and had picked up a large vocabulary of phrases from some of the subs she spent time in.

Regardless, Wendy was not fooling herself, she knew Regalius was a big place and some of the Subs were damn big. People could hide out in the wilderness or the mountains and never be found. Some actually did, lending form to the idea that anything was truly possible. It was just strange, that for all of her travels, not once did she ever see combat like that. To be honest, she had never seen combat. Period.

Wendy sighed. It was sad that it was the threat of death and destruction that had brought people to care for one another. She wondered what the world was coming to, mired in such senseless violence. She really was beginning to think something was going on; she just could not put her finger on it. Somebody was up to something.