MBITA, KENYA
JUNE 9, 2015
Joseph Odoyo sighed to himself, clutching the Sako rifle closer to his chest. Coming to the countryside had been a mistake, he was beginning to think. His mother, of all people, had been the one to convince him Nairobi was no place for a young man. A Luo man had to get out of the city and into the fresh air, see the real Kenya, she had said. And so Joseph had found himself out in this nothing town on the shores of Lake Victoria, working for peanuts. A farmhand, for God's sake. If he had stayed in Nairobi he might be running his own company by now. He cursed again, softly, to himself. Guarding cattle in the middle of the night. He certainly wouldn't include this in his next email home.
Not that the rancher's concerns were unfounded, Joseph conceded. Something odd was going on all around the lake, there was no denying it. Fishing ketches and other small craft sinking at an alarming rate. Elephants and giraffes disappearing from the Biharamulo reserve in Tanzania, then washing up in Uganda, ripped to pieces. And, of course, cattle disappearing from ranches all around the lake. The last of these concerned Joseph the most. That, after all, was what he owed his employment to.
He heard the soft lowing of the cattle, nodded, turned back to look at the lake, a mere hundred yard away. The moon looked nice on the water, one of the sole amusements he had on this endless, boring night. But the silvery reflection didn't seem to be sitting on the water. Instead, there was. . . something. Some kind of immense black hulk, sitting in the water.
And then, to his horror, the black hulk seemed to be rising out of the lake.
Joseph wasn't sure exactly what to do, but as it approached him, the lowing of the cows turning into cries of panic, he stood frozen to the spot. Something in him, perhaps bravery, perhaps panic, made him level the Sako at the approaching monstrosity, much taller than the barn and farmhouse. Three .223 rounds did absolutely nothing to stop or slow the titanic figure that loomed over him, blocking the bright light of the moon. Joseph turned, attempted to flee, but barely managed a step before he felt an immense pressure on his middle, found himself falling to the cool grass.
But he was looking at the bottom of his own shoes, how could that be? He was not twisting his own legs to look at them, how could he see them?
The last thing to register in Joseph Odoyo's mind was that he had been somehow cut in half. That, and the panicked screams of the cattle.
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND
JUNE 9, 2015
EIGHT HOURS LATER
"Two companies of infantry- one from Bolivia, one from Sweden. A troop of tanks, ten of them. T-72s, from Bulgaria. And one squadron of attack aircraft, generously contributed by the Ethiopian Air Force. Twelve Sukhoi Su-25s, slightly outdated."
"That's all?" Marius van Eyck asked incredulously.
Divisional General Marcel Laprasse shrugged, an unbelievably French expression. "You ask for miracles if you expect more, my dear Lieutenant Colonel. We are new and untested, we are lucky to have even these units pledged. The Japanese are sending a medical unit, and of course you have the excellent services of Silver Talon to fall back on. And naturally the armed forces of Tanzania, Uganda, and Kenya," the general said, with a sideways glance at the three ambassadors sitting in the briefing room. "At any rate, what else can we expect? It's the middle of Africa, the press and other countries do not find it sexy enough to donate top-shelf troops."
"True," Van Eyck admitted. "We will have to make the best of what we have."
"And I am certain you will, Colonel," General Laprasse said tolerantly. "You have a brilliant team to fall back upon. I have every confidence. Shall we assemble them for the briefing?"
Van Eyck nodded wordlessly, stepping over to the tannoy mic that put him in touch with every room in this massive building. "All personnel, please report to the briefing room," he said over the intercom, hearing his accented English echo through the corridors. "We seem to have a situation developing in Eastern Africa."
JUNE 9, 2015
Joseph Odoyo sighed to himself, clutching the Sako rifle closer to his chest. Coming to the countryside had been a mistake, he was beginning to think. His mother, of all people, had been the one to convince him Nairobi was no place for a young man. A Luo man had to get out of the city and into the fresh air, see the real Kenya, she had said. And so Joseph had found himself out in this nothing town on the shores of Lake Victoria, working for peanuts. A farmhand, for God's sake. If he had stayed in Nairobi he might be running his own company by now. He cursed again, softly, to himself. Guarding cattle in the middle of the night. He certainly wouldn't include this in his next email home.
Not that the rancher's concerns were unfounded, Joseph conceded. Something odd was going on all around the lake, there was no denying it. Fishing ketches and other small craft sinking at an alarming rate. Elephants and giraffes disappearing from the Biharamulo reserve in Tanzania, then washing up in Uganda, ripped to pieces. And, of course, cattle disappearing from ranches all around the lake. The last of these concerned Joseph the most. That, after all, was what he owed his employment to.
He heard the soft lowing of the cattle, nodded, turned back to look at the lake, a mere hundred yard away. The moon looked nice on the water, one of the sole amusements he had on this endless, boring night. But the silvery reflection didn't seem to be sitting on the water. Instead, there was. . . something. Some kind of immense black hulk, sitting in the water.
And then, to his horror, the black hulk seemed to be rising out of the lake.
Joseph wasn't sure exactly what to do, but as it approached him, the lowing of the cows turning into cries of panic, he stood frozen to the spot. Something in him, perhaps bravery, perhaps panic, made him level the Sako at the approaching monstrosity, much taller than the barn and farmhouse. Three .223 rounds did absolutely nothing to stop or slow the titanic figure that loomed over him, blocking the bright light of the moon. Joseph turned, attempted to flee, but barely managed a step before he felt an immense pressure on his middle, found himself falling to the cool grass.
But he was looking at the bottom of his own shoes, how could that be? He was not twisting his own legs to look at them, how could he see them?
The last thing to register in Joseph Odoyo's mind was that he had been somehow cut in half. That, and the panicked screams of the cattle.
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND
JUNE 9, 2015
EIGHT HOURS LATER
"Two companies of infantry- one from Bolivia, one from Sweden. A troop of tanks, ten of them. T-72s, from Bulgaria. And one squadron of attack aircraft, generously contributed by the Ethiopian Air Force. Twelve Sukhoi Su-25s, slightly outdated."
"That's all?" Marius van Eyck asked incredulously.
Divisional General Marcel Laprasse shrugged, an unbelievably French expression. "You ask for miracles if you expect more, my dear Lieutenant Colonel. We are new and untested, we are lucky to have even these units pledged. The Japanese are sending a medical unit, and of course you have the excellent services of Silver Talon to fall back on. And naturally the armed forces of Tanzania, Uganda, and Kenya," the general said, with a sideways glance at the three ambassadors sitting in the briefing room. "At any rate, what else can we expect? It's the middle of Africa, the press and other countries do not find it sexy enough to donate top-shelf troops."
"True," Van Eyck admitted. "We will have to make the best of what we have."
"And I am certain you will, Colonel," General Laprasse said tolerantly. "You have a brilliant team to fall back upon. I have every confidence. Shall we assemble them for the briefing?"
Van Eyck nodded wordlessly, stepping over to the tannoy mic that put him in touch with every room in this massive building. "All personnel, please report to the briefing room," he said over the intercom, hearing his accented English echo through the corridors. "We seem to have a situation developing in Eastern Africa."
