Commander Ferrari sat alone in the dark conference room aboard the Levitano. Monitors lined the walls. The monitors displayed data coming in from the drones in the cloud. After Parma was taken, the fog had dissipated. It receded back across the mountains. It now hovered only along the shoreline from Arenzano to Genoa.

Commander Ferrari watched as the new data coming in showed the fog creeping up slowly north, just as it did when the ghoul army poured out into the farmland beneath Alessandria. Ferrari wondered if another attack on Novi Ligure was imminent. He doubted it. Their victory at Parma showed that, without the ocean on one side, the mountains on the other, and canons placed strategically at access points, the ghoul army was vulnerable. The door to the conference room slammed open and broke his train of thought.

“Soldier, when I say I do not want to be disturbed, I mean it.”

“Sir, the Campo Ligure blockade failed to check in.”

“Did you try to raise them?”

“The line is dead.”

“Cellphones?”

“Nothing Commander, they are off the grid.”

“Whose blockade is it?”

“The Americans, sir.”

“Red alert. Send it, now!” Ferrari shouted.

The soldier left the room at a full sprint.

“The cloud never means what it says.” Ferrari muttered. “Where are you Ghaelvord? What are you doing?” He asked to no one in particular.

After posing his hypothetical questions to the void, he left the conference room.

“I’m going to Ovada.” He told an aide. “Prep the jet.”

The aide sprinted off toward the deck. The Commander turned to another aide.

“Get Seaberg on the phone.”

• • •

On the jet, Ferrari spoke with Seaberg.

“We are interrogating them now. I am getting word that they don’t know anything.” Seaberg was saying.

Ferrari asked, “What are they saying then?”

“Two of the men, Roy Hill and Ed Paredes, saw a man on a motorcycle approaching the blockade.”

“Did they call it in?” Ferrari asked.

Seaberg responded, “No, apparently they were about to.”

“Well?”

“That’s it. After that they don’t remember anything and that’s better than I can say for anyone else at that blasted blockade. They had one job.” The frustration was apparent in Seaberg’s voice.

“Look for the missing convoy.” Ferrari said.

“We are. Are you?”

“They are on it now. You’ll know when I know.”

“Hang on Ferrari, I’m getting word.” Seaberg went offline. Ferrari waited.

Then Seaberg came back on. His voice cracked as he spoke, “They spotted it.”

“By satellite?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Less than five minutes from the blockade at the Maddalena Pass.”

Ferrari smiled in spite of the news. He had a hunch that there was more to this war than what met the eye. The megalomaniac warlord wanted something in France. What could it be? This war would be full of surprises. Ferrari relished the thought of what challenges might lay ahead.

“Well, the French can write that post off. I doubt they are ready for the artillery he brought. Jets?”

“Already in the air. ETA is less than ten minutes.”

“Don’t hold back.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“Hold on Ferrari.”

Seaberg went offline.

Then he returned, “The blockade is gone. They hit it pretty hard.”

“Did they use their guns or ours?”

“Both, actually. There were a lot of explosions. We can’t see anything right now.”

“Jets?”

“Two minutes.”

“What will you do?”

“Depends on visibility. Hold on.”

Seaberg went offline again. When he came back, the tension was gone from his voice.

“It’s over.”

“What happened?”

“The dust was settling and the satellites were showing total destruction. The blockade was leveled, nothing left.”

“So, you hit them.”

“Dropped the full payload. That mountain will never be the same. Hold on.”

Seaberg went offline again.

“What!?” Ferrari could hear Seaberg screaming in the background. He could not make out what was said.

Then, Seaberg was back online.

“Ferrari, something’s wrong.”

“What?”

“There was a flash. Bright lights. We lost visibility. The monitors showed blue arcs. The scale was too big, though, for mobile infantry.”

“You are not saying…”

“They mounted ray cannons to the convoy. Brought the cannons with them.”

“Spectroanalysis showed that they were too heavy to move.”

“So much for that.”

“It was never a reliable conclusion, just conjecture. We couldn’t get close enough.”

“I know that, damnit!”

“Visibility?”

“Still none. Hold on.”

This time there was a long pause. Eventually, Seaberg was back on the line.

“I have to call you back.” Click, the line went dead.

Ferrari was surrounded by eager, curious faces. The soldiers, however, knew better than to ask questions. Ferrari did not oblige them.

“What’s up your sleeve now, Ghaelvord?” Ferrari mused.