Not everyone in any of the three primary nations had loved the idea, of course. In fact a good deal less than half had actually been enthusiastic about it, but hard pressed by the war, the United States needed the manufacturing capacity of Mexico and the raw resources of Canada if it were to continue to hold the line, let alone make a credible counteroffensive. Trade agreements had worked for a while, and then mutual defense pacts. Finally, the three governments were one in all but name and each took the next step.

A constitutional convention in the U.S. led to a vote to reform the republic, while similar referendums in Canada and Mexico passed under heavy controversy. The key effect it had on the military of the time was opening recruiting across previously inaccessible borders, bolstering numbers at a time when every able body was needed just to hold the line against the Block at Japan and Israel.

Weston had never been what one could call overly patriotic. His loyalty went to his family in the service, and those were the men and women who’d bled with him, not just the ones who wore his flag. Others, however, including Blake, still swore that the United States would rise again. It was a familiar cry to the historian in Eric, but not one he took up himself.

“Not now, Ron.” He shook his head. “The city, today. Worry about your lost country when we’re not all about to die.”

The Air Force colonel snorted again, but gave in easily enough. Patriot or not, Ron Blake was a realist to the core.

“What’s the lowdown on these bastards, Captain?” he asked.

“Alien swarm. They eat anything and shit reinforcements. If we leave them be long enough, they’ll eat and shit the entire planet right out from under us,” Eric told his old friend, dropping his more refined persona for a familiar attitude from the war. “Armor up and help the greenhorns get adjusted. We’ve got some Guardies to rescue.”

“Roger that,” Ron nodded, heading for a suit. “These look like upgrades. Anything new?”

“Mostly just small stuff over the ones you tested,” Eric answered. “You got the high-altitude ones, right?”

“Damn right. Most fun I ever had as a PJ was jumping out of the space shuttle.” Ron grinned. “It was one helluva long way down.”

“I’ll bet.” Eric grinned, turning away to look over the group.