Another jet roared along the runway and took to the sky as the group approached a side entrance. Trevor thought he heard panic in the sound of those engines.

They moved from the simmering mid-May heat into the cool confines of the building and headed upstairs to the second floor observation lounge where a wide table, metal cabinets, and folding chairs had replaced soft furniture.

General Casey Fink stood at the table surrounded by his staff and representatives from smaller units. Trevor, dressed in grungy BDU pants, a black shirt, and a dirty black baseball cap over hair that had not seen shampoo in the better part of a week, grabbed everyone’s attention as he walked up to the table where the very fluid “Kansas” front was displayed on a large map.

“We have some serious problems. I just got back from Great Bend. Enemy scouts have been spotted in that area as recently as this morning. I’m thinking The Order is pushing hard on the north flank to try and cut off the tracks at Peabody.”

Everyone understood that Trevor’s point revolved around the evacuation of heavy equipment and army units via the railroads, some of which had already been bombed. The only remaining intact routes ran in a north and northeast direction out of Wichita.

General Fink scratched his head and then timidly-a rare thing for Casey Fink-told Trevor, “2 ^ nd Armor is fifty percent loaded. General Rothchild and her command staff have set up shop over at the rail yard. I dispatched a pair of anti-air units for added protection.”

Trevor ran a hand over the rather thick stubble on his cheeks before finding his nose and pinching. Before he could burst into an angry reminder about the need for speed General Fink added, “We’ve got a strong garrison at Newton. They’ll cover the lines as long as we need. I’m more worried about the Chrysaor.”

“She’s out of action for a couple of days,” he told Fink. “No dry-dock, but she’s pulled back for weapons repair. Seems the air fight over Amarillo did more damage than we thought.”