Category: Planetary Status Reports

The dust was settling, the sky was clearing …

A strange quiet had settled over the world, just after CHASTISEMENT DAY.

By October 16th, what was left of the US command staff was planning their first offensive operation since the war started 3 days earlier. Normally, this kind of operation would take weeks or even months to organize, but they had days. Days to plan an operation involving nearly 100,000 US troops, on US soil, the biggest domestic offensive operation since Sherman’s March to the Sea.

The good news: the US had massive caches of conventional weapons at locations around the globe. As much damage as the sasquatch did, much of this and the logistics required to utilize the supplies were operational. Re-supply of newer munitions were being sent out to front line troops within a few days following the attack, while the troops stood fast in the “shadow armistice”. “Shadow Armistice” is what forces around the world were calling the pause that unfolded after “Chastisement Day”, after 10/13.

DARPA’s investment in next gen manufacturing and 3D printing tech allowed for the rapid deployment of experimental weapons and ammunition factories – small, mobile, easy to set up, capable of producing current and new types of weapons. Allied forces had also learned that the bigfoot were more susceptible to damage from radiation than they had realized, and fell due to sickness faster than humans, much faster. The US forces would use this information to their advantage.

The bad news: various nations were already forging agreements with the sasquatch, NATO was split in half and Japan, where the President’s son died, sued for peace first. The USA was mostly isolated, and other than China and Russia, had no allies for this fight. As horrible as the onslaught was, and as much damage was done, many around the globe wanted to stop, evaluate, and understand. For them, and the bigfoot, the war was over almost as fast as it began and now they needed to care for the broken, the wounded, the refugees.

The real problem at this moment was DENVER, both in terms of human life and, as important to politicians, optics.

As of October 16th, nearly 10,000 sasquatch in 6 separate battle groups were hold up around Denver, Colorado. These were scavengers and pirates, members of KLUNGIT-ARMIES from the EAST, mercenaries and monsters – formed from claggit-gangs. They had traveled through portals, and were assigned DENVER as a holding point by DIRG, the sasquatch WAR LEADER. These sasquatch were vicious, and did a great deal of damage on “Chastisement Day”. Nearly 50,000 people were executed by the bigfoot forces in Denver, another 10,000 were being organized for transport as slaves, to be sold. The rest were scattered, hiding, waiting for the nightmare to end.

Hasty kangaroo trials were held at the Denver Botanic Gardens, the local sasquatch leader, VORTIZ-WOO, sat upon a throne made of human bones, judging the humans. The crimes they were accused of were mostly made up, crimes of destruction, neglect, pollution, but in general VORTIZ-WOO enjoyed the emotional torture of judging these weak little hairless monkeys. For several days the gutters were sticky with human blood, for several nights these ravenous and vengeful sasquatch fed on human flesh, human babies.

But what seemed the worst insult, and the greatest provocation, were the “dog trials”.

Little known fact to most humans: during the Middle Ages, during times of PANIC, human women were put on trial for witchcraft, and so were cats. There were cat trials, during these panics, cats were asked to defend themselves and cats being just as aloof as CROWS didn’t really give a fuck. Many cats perished because cats are basically smart asses.

Now back to the DOG TRIALS of DENVER.

Dogs that barked at the beasts, that attacked them, bit them, that stood by their owners to protect them from the Sasquatch? – they were put on trial. Not knowing or really understanding any of it, simply knowing that their owner was in trouble and the dogs wanted to help, and now they were to die. The wolves had stayed neutral up to this point, with the crow: and DIRG considered it a kind of treachery if dogs attacked their sasquatch forces. But the dogs howled, and word got out to the wolves.

For VORTIZ-WOO and his angry sasquatch army, it mattered not the lives of dogs or people. They laughed and jeered, and even took turns swallowing French bulldogs live after dipping them in vats of boiling fat. It is notable that the most shocking thing to come out of the Denver assault were these dog persecutions, people seemed to care more about dogs being killed than people being killed. Soldiers, marines, airmen and sailors were marking their bombs and planes and tanks with one particular name: “Boomer”.

Boomer was a mutt. He was adopted by Jennifer and Tyler Rhodes, a newly wed couple living in a small one-bedroom apartment near Denver. Boomer was being raised by dog fighters near where Tyler and Jennifer lived, that’s how they first met.

Nights, the Rhodes would walk around their neighborhood, they’d hear the screams, they and others knew what was going on with the creeps running the dog fighting ring. Boomer was being tortured, beaten, spray painted and starved. In the winter the dog fighting shit heads would spray boomer with a water hose, in the cold, in the snow. In the summer boomer would go without water for days.

Boomer dug a hole and escaped. The first time he escaped, Tyler called animal control and the cops took Boomer back to the dog fighters. The second time Boomer escaped Jennifer just said “fuck this, let’s grab him”. From that day on Boomer was their dog, their kid, and he knew it and loved it. From that day on the Rhodes had a guardian that had only begun to understand love.

On the morning of the GREAT CHASTISEMENT, October the 13th, the KLUNGIT-GANGS of VORTIZ-WOO attacked Denver around 8 AM, coming out of the mountains, from a few portals. Boomer had been up and nervous the night before, he began wailing like never before, at around 6 AM. Tyler and Jennifer learned to trust that dog, so they loaded up their car and decided to take a day off from work, “we’ll visit your mom in Kansas”. The Rhodes were just outside of Watkins, Colorado, traveling east on I-70 when the attacking sasquatch began blocking roads. The Rhodes were so close to escaping, before the worst of it would hit. Their Toyota Corolla slowed down, as a the large hairy beasts were directing cars into a parking lot nearby.

As one of the beasts got close to the car, Boomer lunged out an open window and attacked him, biting the sasquatch’s throat. Tyler hit the accelerator, he didn’t know what else to do. Tyler loved Boomer, and he loved his wife. What Boomer did saved Tyler and Jennifer’s lives. They, Tyler and Jennifer, managed to get back on I-70 and make it to Kansas – Kansas, being boring and mostly without big forests had been saved from much of the madness of that day.

Boomer was captured, one of the first dogs to be put on trial.

Boomer’s trial was the best known, because he just sat there, growling at VORTIZ-WOO, as the local sasquatch war leader described Boomer’s crimes … every attempt at ridicule just revealed Boomer’s teeth more, sharp, ready to cut.

VORTIZ-WOO spoke at the end of Boomer’s trial: “My oldest friend, JEBROSS-TOWNE, was severely attacked by this mongrel beast. His injuries being extreme … the punishment must be so also …”, the sasquatch throng cheered. Boomer did no real damage to this bigfoot mentioned.

When VORTIZ-WOO finished opining, Boomer escaped his leash, jumped up onto the platform where VORTIZ-WOO was, and bit him on his penis. VORTIZ-WOO picked up the dog, before the whole crowd, and tore Boomer in half. It was said that the dogs in all the pens began howling, and you could hear the howls as far away as St. Louis, or at least the dogs could hear it. They say dogs around the nation began barking, howling.

One dog, a special mongrel, that had been given a few years of joy after so much pain, a dog that loved his human cousins, a dog willing to do as had been done for him. Boomer was dead. It is said that Boomer died with a chunk of VORTIZ-WOO’s penis in his mouth.

Now, among the US forces preparing for a counterattack, “Boomer” was a banner, a cause, a mythos, a rallying call, a reason to believe they could fight back AND WIN! When Tyler and Jennifer relayed the full story to the press, the story went viral. The WWW took a day or two to get BACK ON LINE, but once it had the videos surfaced. Videos taken by the humans living underground in Denver, videos depicting the trial and immediate execution of Boomer, were being viewed around the world and many sasquatch clans with internet access looked upon it in horror and shame.

All of this was known to President Jordan, as information began to flow again.

“Sir, there’s a lot of good news here”, said Captain Daniel ‘Danny’ LeRoi, President Jordan’s military intelligence attaché; he had just spent the last hour explaining the “situation”. It wasn’t great, it also wasn’t the end of the world.

President Jordan looked at General Allen, and General Allen began to speak.

“Sir, I understand we have good reasons for wanting to launch our counterattack soon. But we are barely recovering from this attack right now, and I’m just not …”, the President cut him off.

“Shut up, how much time do you need?”

“A month.”

“You have until October 31st …. Halloween.”

Lack of sleep, grief over his dead son, and the ever present reality of “being the one in charge” was hitting the President hard.

When he ran for the office, Jordan didn’t want to make waves or implement some huge agenda; he merely wanted to be President for two terms, a caretaker. He was popular, handsome, and a gifted public speaker, but he had zero military experience and had very little patience for the “West Point Way” as he called it. President Jordan also had little choice now but to trust them, the brass. “The team you have, not the team you want”, the President remarked in a speech once; he had the team he was going to get.

Following the briefing President Jordan retreated to his quarters at NORAD. A lukewarm meal of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes awaited him, plus half a fifth of really expensive single malt scotch. The internet was spotty and very few streaming services were functional, but there was an old DVD player in his room and a couple movies. One film, THE FINAL COUNTDOWN, caught his attention. He’d seen it before, not a great film, but escapist enough to take his mind of what was going on.

President Jordan had about 20 minutes of quiet before there was a knock at the door. It was his intelligence attaché.

“Sir, there’s movement to the southwest of here, we have cavalry units checking on this, it could be an attack.”

“When will we know for sure?”

“We expect a report in 90 minutes.”

“Great”, President Jordan muttered.

“I’m sorry Sir?”

“That sounds fine, notify me when we know more.”

The President settled back into watching his movie, a movie about a nuclear powered aircraft carrier traveling through time back to December 6th, 1941. He thought it was silly, pretentious. He usually hated time travel movies as much as he hated movies about wizards and orcs. But on this day, for this break, he simply needed the distraction of the nonsense.

“Sir, what’s up?”, Cheryl Strand swung the door open. She was the current Chief of Staff, and one of the few cabinet members to survive. She was with the President, briefing him on current harvest data when it all began. She had been the Interior Secretary, was hastily made Chief of Staff, and she was like the President: a bit rudderless, in a job suddenly bigger than what she expected, punched in the face by reality.

“Can I get 30 minutes REST?”, the President said.

“No … Sir … you can’t.”

“What do you need?”

“Nothing, just checking in.”

“Checking in, you did it.”

“What are you watching?”

“Some dumb movie.”

“I love dumb movies, which one?”

“The Final Countdown, Kirk Douglas is in it.”

“I love that movie.”

“You love that movie?”, the president said incredulously.

“Yes … Kirk Douglas is one of my all time favorites.”

The President pushed play, and they both kept watching. Nothing was said, Cheryl grabbed a chair in the room and the President sat on the bed. They spent another 30 minutes watching, not talking, and then the President pushed pause.

“What do you think is going to happen?”, the President asked Cheryl.

“I think … I guess we don’t know.”

“Do you think we will win?”

“I’m not sure what that means Mr. President, win what?”

“I don’t know.”

The President slurred his speech a little and then trailed off.

Cheryl wasn’t too sure what to say, she knew the President’s son had been killed in Tokyo, she knew the President had lost his wife to cancer a few years earlier, she knew the President was managing a lot of losses and losing and tragedy. Then she spoke:

“My dad used to tell me we win by staying alive. I think we win Mr. President by not giving up and I think we win by taking back Denver.”

“Do you think we can take back Denver?”

“Sure, the real question: can we take back Denver before the atrocities there get out of control?”

They were both silent for a moment, and then the President spoke.

“Have you heard from Linda?”

“Yes Sir, she’s been doing what you asked and organizing civilian and military forces in the Pacific for defense and humanitarian operations.”

“Glad she’s safe, been too hard the last few days.”

Cheryl looked at the paused HD screen, one of those martial scenes when the soundtrack blares and the roar of the F-14’s, the sight of them, is caught in the crescendo.

“You know, I like the old movies where the cavalry saves the day ….”, Cheryl said.

“Or when the Marines show up, and you know it will be okay …”, the President responded.

“And there’s always some ally waiting to be revealed.”

“And we don’t know the ending until it’s over.”

Cheryl and President Jordan both laughed.

“MR PRESIDENT, COME TO THE SITUATION ROOM”, a crackled and demanding voice came over the President’s intercom. Cheryl and President Jordan picked themselves up and walked swiftly covering the distance to the situation room in a matter of seconds.

When President Jordan got to the situation room he was met by a shocking surprise: several armed MP’s carrying bolt action rifles chambered in .700 nitro express with exploding rounds. There was one solitary sasquatch, a Native American chief, and a 200 pound gray wolf … along with military staff, the staff room was packed.

“What’s the situation General?”, Jordan asked.

“Sir, the units that we believed were enemy units probing for an attack … well … they were emissaries, requesting parley and to speak with you, the President, directly.”

“This is not funny.”

“It’s no joke Mr. President!”, Captain LeRoi chimed in.

And then the Native American chief spoke: “President Jordan, please sit down and lets talk.”

The room became quiet, the sasquatch leaned up against the wall, bowing his head, not quite fitting and still too big for any of the chairs. The wolf brought herself up to the table, her paws laid out on the surface, staring intently at President Jordan.

“Mr. President, this is not the time to address past grievances between my people and your government”, the chief had worked for the most recent Vice President of the Navajo Nation. He was a farmer, he had some cattle and a small diner he ran. Prior to the great conflict, he was merely one of the elder tribal leaders that would often be ignored or ridiculed as too connected to the past, not open to “new ideas”. He joined forces with the sasquatch 5 years earlier, secretly meeting with them and organizing Navajo men and women into an army.

By July 2026, Randall Black-Horse had organized, secretly, 10,000 young Navajo men and women into 5 separate cavalry brigades. The entire scheme was funded by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, without them knowing it. Money earmarked for “cultural rejuvenation” and “COVID ERA REBUILDING” was directed to the purchase of horses, weapons, armor. The horse purchases were the hardest, given that domestic production of horses and other farm labor animals had dropped off significantly in the previous 100 years. It took scavenging, it took horse trading, but by October 2026, Chief Black-Horse had his force prepared and ready to go: a native force of Navaho, Cherokee, Uinta and others, all prepared for war, a force of 10,000 horses and riders.

Chief Black-Horse continued: “We made our choice and have no regrets. Our people have known the promises and treatment of many U.S. presidents and we no longer take you seriously.”

Randall paused, looking around the room at all the faces.

Randall was a man in his sixties, he wore jeans and cowboy boots and a red baseball cap with “THRUSH” written on it in bold white letters.

“It’s no matter the disappointments because maybe for the first time in millennia we have a chance to speak plainly and understand each other.” Randall paused and then look intently at ONLY President Jordan, at his eyes …

“We do not support what is going on in Denver, we will not allow it to continue. YOU NEED TO KNOW that we are here to stop that horror.”

“What do you me you won’t allow it?”, the President responded, the wolf in the meeting growled at him.

“We are not negotiating as much as telling and I’m telling you WE will not allow it.”

Randall stopped speaking, and then a series of sounds came from the wolf. No one understood except the sasquatch in the corner.

“Noree says you should listen to Chief Black-Horse”, the sasquatch mumbled.

President Jordan shook his head and thought “fuck this wizard and orc Gandalf bullshit”.

“We are here to make peace. We are here for a public and binding agreement. We are here to help and to heal Mr. President”, said Randall.

Randall kept speaking for a bit longer, the wolf would interrupt periodically. At one point the President’s attaché asked if they could bring food for sasquatch or Randall or the wolf. Noree cried a little, looking in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Why don’t you bring some steak tar-tar for the lady here.”, the President said to one of the marine sergeants nearby.

The meeting lasted nearly 4 hours, and it seemed as if time had stopped.

The sasquatch, YOG-THUURY, was a leader of bigfoot that lived in the Rocky Mountains. His people had guarded these mountains for thousands of years and the portals that were hidden within. He had been mainly silent, translating for Noree, and providing requisite nods as Randall spoke.

What was being laid out was an alliance between the gray wolves of North America, the Navajo and other allied tribes, and the sasquatch of the Rockies. They would join forces to liberate Denver. The wolves bringing 10,000. The Navajo bringing another 10,000. The sasquatch providing 3,000. The numbers were adding up in the President’s head, and all of the sudden the silly conversating with Cheryl, earlier, seemed prescient, and he thought “we can win”.

What they, the wolf, the bigfoot, and the chief, wanted was the sticking point …

Black-Horse’s demands:

1. The immediate recognition of all US indigenous tribes and peoples as having their right to exist and to represent themselves diplomatically as a separate nation: either jointly or separately.
2. The incorporation of every existing US national park into a protectorate owned and administered by the several tribes and autonomous indigenous peoples of the USA territories.
3. The transfer of all US public lands and state/national forests, in the Rocky Mountains, to a protectorate overseen by the sasquatch people.

At any other moment in recent US history, Chief Black-Horse would be laughed at, but not today.

There were details to be worked out, but the shock of 10/13 seemed to make the impossible possible. Black-Horse envisioned a restoration of respect and to achieve this he needed to go back to his people, the Navajo, and the other tribes with a deal that would justify both peace and the rebuilding required.

“So, with a pen, on a piece of paper, this happens?”, the President said sarcastically, getting dirty looks Randall, YOG-THUURY and more growling from Noree.

Randall looked annoyed and then spoke: “There are too many dead we know of, and too many we will never know of, to pretend it’s that easy … but I think my friend in the corner would hunt you down and kill you if you broke this promise”, with that YOG-THUURY growled and combination of noise and bad breath got them back on topic.

“If we make this happen, you will fight with us?”

“Mr. President, we showed up ready to fight … are you ready yet?”

“We need two weeks …”

YOG-THUURY shook his head, Randall sighed, Noree nodded.

“We will make that work, our forces are scattered near the Beaver Creek wilderness area, we would like to bring our forces into your assembly area near Fort Carson.”

The main US ground forces were gathering at Fort Carson. A full bird colonel from the 82nd Airborne motioned Randall to the hallway. They talked and laughed a little and Randall was given instructions on procedures to follow and they were given a military escort as well – 2 platoons of US Army Rangers.

The NORAD facility had the tightest security of any US based in the world, the rumor about wolves and people and “Indians”, joining with the USA, spread beyond the walls of that cave; within a day people were whispering on shortwave radio and those nodes of the WWW still working: Denver, we’re coming.

It turns out there is a queer kind of osmosis, it confounds all walls and doors and cages. It is the imbalance between darkness and hope, and there was just too much darkness outside of Cheyenne Mountain, and now there was real hope bubbling from inside.

They toyed with different names for the operation: “SLAM DUNK”, “HOME RUN”, “EASY RIDER”. Nothing really fit.

It was going to be a rapid and sustained attack, aggressive. The entire plan envisioned a one or two day battle. The KLUNGIT-GANGS occupying the city were ruthless pirates and unserious in the ways of war.

It was a younger brigadier general, part of the 101st Division, that suggested “bum rush”. They would overwhelm, they would startle and shock, and it would appear like a flash mob. But the term flash mob seemed less appropriate, so they settled on OP BUM RUSH.

YOG-THUURY provided excellent intelligence on the location of 3 portals, the three the KLUNGIT-GANGS were using to get to Colorado, for resupply, and the 3 portals they would escape through when their pillaging was complete. VORTIZ-WOO, the leader of the sasquatch in Denver had orders to punish, to seek revenge, and then leave. DIRG, who was already growing impatient with many of the sasquatch forces under his command, and was becoming embarrassed by the events in Denver. But the Sasquatch, as stated, didn’t really see WAR the same as most humans. VORTIZ-WOO had his own schedule, and ignored Dirg’s directives to withdraw from Denver.

The President made it clear to everyone in the situation room: we are not making peace, we are KILLING and if they surrender capturing, but the emphasis was on killing. YOG-THURRY explained what kind of bigfoot they were, and after his many vivid descriptions it became clear that these beasts were monsters and needed to be wiped out.

3 x 5-kiloton penetrator neutron bombs, dropped by a stealth bomber, would close up the holes – this would signal the beginning of the attack. VORTIZ-WOO suggested they be near hits, that it was imperative to avoid any bomb strikes within the portals themselves.

The 82nd and 101st would move rapidly to take up blocking positions to the north. 1st CAV along with the 20th Armored Division, would grind through Lakewood and take out a significant portion of the sasquatch forces.

The wolves, working with US Special Forces, would strike the ramshackle compounds around the Botanical Gardens, freeing the dogs being held there.

Black-Horse’s army would attack OBJECTIVE ARVADA, getting close support from an APACHE squadron from the 101st. Along with the attack helicopters, 2 squadrons of A-10 CAS were on call and loaded with thousands of rounds of 30 mm sabot. Black-Horse’s primary objective were the outdoor containment areas where the sasquatch were holding their human prisoners. Some were being shipped through the portals to be sold, others were simply being eaten.

All indirect fires and other artillery support would be coordinated from NORAD and Fort Carson jointly. All US Naval and Air Force bases in the region were set up as reserve force concentration areas and for casualty triage and collection.

By October 20th, the OPERATIONS ORDER was ready and it would be issued the next day. Ten days for the troops to plan, write letters, and probably say goodbye to the ones they loved. The President had set this up as a battle of overwhelming force, but no one had the gung-ho confidence of just a few weeks earlier. They were launching a counterattack, and it could not fail … because if it did, the USA was done. They expected a minimum of 20% casualties.

Those last days before the attack it was tense around NORAD, Fort Carson, and the various camps preparing, developing their own OPORD’s issued to lower units. There were a few last minute innovations, given the latest gen 3D-PRINTING TECH they’d had set up at NORAD years earlier.

They were printing armored coats, carbon fiber and titanium weave for the wolves …

They had designed a dual purpose goggle and hearing protection system for the horses and the riders. They shoed the horses with advanced tech, for snow and ice and road.

All the frontline troops were being issued M-14 rifles, firing armor piercing 7.62 ammo. All squad automatic weapons were replaced with these rapid deployment 10-guage 5 barreled cannons. They looked like a miniature version of the infamous Hotchkiss repeating cannon. The ammo was mix 50/50 high explosive and white phosphorous.

The sasquatch would join forces with both the Wolf/SOCOM Task Force and Randall’s BRAVES.

And President Jordan, a queer mixture of Henry the 5th and Falstaff, tripped and scrambled and muddled his way through those days. His job: make decisions given the best information. Also his job: have faith that those who work for him know their jobs. So he worried, and rested, and met with leaders and communicated with the outside world. All of this while still bottling up rage and grief over his dead son.

On October 29th, just two days before the attack, President Jordan was sitting at a picnic table just outside the gates of NORAD. He was surrounded by security, his personal COMMS guy nearby, along with the dude that carries IT: the nuclear football. Chief Black-Horse, Randall, came up to him and sat down at the table across from the President.

“You nervous?”, Randall asked.

“No, not nervous, not scared, mostly tired”, the President responded.

“Do you think we can win?”

President Jordan thought on Randall’s question. It seemed a strange question given how much confidence, austerity, gravitas, was drawn on the Chief’s grizzled old face.

“What’s winning for you Chief?”

“It can’t go back to the way it was before.”

“What’s winning for you Chief?”, President Jordan asked again, as if not understanding Randall at all.

“Imagine a free nation of free men and women. Not a nation of pillagers or grifters or thieves or pirates, but a nation of respect, and one might even say LIBERTY … that’s the victory I’m fighting for Mr. President, that’s how we heal.”

The sun was setting on this day, a day that preceded one of the most important battles in American history.

For crows, it was just another day.