Deadly Squad II

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Deadly Squad II Page 5

by Gray Lanter


  “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  “If all goes well, the planet will be destroyed but there are, as I said, at least two huge armadas in other areas of space. They will be instantly alerted about the demise of the planet and start hunting for the attackers.”

  “We should be long gone by that time,” I said. “They can’t track us in hyperspace, or at least I don’t think they can. We don’t know that much about their scientific capabilities.” I shrugged. “But even if they can, we will have a big lead on them.”

  “If we succeed in the destruction of their home base, or home bases if they have facilities on other planets in the solar system, it would be a huge defeat for the Destroyers but it might not prevent their invasion. They still have plenty of ships and a strong desire to wipe out humanity,” the general said.

  “But they won’t have the capacity to replace their ships when they’re lost during battle. That should put a dent in their plans,” Rab said.

  “It should and that will be a great advantage to humans, but it may not stop the attack on humans...”

  “But we have notified the Federation there is a possible invasion planned,” I said. “They are currently drawing up defenses and have every army and navy on red alert. If the Destroyers were expecting to make a surprise attack they will have a surprise themselves. The Federation will be prepared and ready. This won’t be a Pearl Harbor. Not be a long shot.”

  The general shot me a puzzled look. “An incident from American history,” I said. “A surprise attack that worked. Attackers won the battle and lost the war.”

  He smiled. “Perhaps that’s a good omen. You also have an unexpected ally too. You have us. Perhaps that’s a good sign too.”

  I grinned. Metallic or not, I was beginning to like the general.

  “By the way, general, what exactly should we call you?” The admiral asked. “The Destroyers is what we have nicknamed our adversaries. I’m sure it’s not an accurate statement of who or what they really are. So what should we call you?”

  I never knew metallic men could chuckle until I heard one from the general. “Actually, I think that’s a very accurate two-word description of what the gold guys are. Since we are almost the exact opposite, I think you can call us the Preservers. Rather catchy, isn’t it?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Rab said. “And it is rather catchy.”

  “We do have ships too, not as many as the Destroyers, but our ships are heading this way. As I told you before, they cannot get here in time to help our attack on the Destroyers’ home base. But if the Destroyers’ two armadas continue the planned invasion, I believe we can entrap them in a pincer movement. The two armadas from the Destroyers will be moving to invade. But their element of surprise has been undercut. Your Federation will be ready and the Destroyers will be heading into a trap. My fleet can then attack them from the rear. They will be in a two-front battle. Instead of the odds on their side, the odds will be on our side.”

  “Can you keep the Destroyers from realizing they’re being followed?”

  “I think our technology can disguise us. We don’t have to follow them too closely. Besides, the Destroyers won’t be looking behind them. They will be focused on their destination. We can hide from them until it’s time to attack.”

  I looked at the admiral and nodded. He grinned. So did Rab. Astrid edged closer to the desk.

  “I think I was right when I stuck my dagger into the desk,” she said. “I bet some of you were doubting me.” She turned and looked at the general. “You obviously know military strategy, general.”

  “A fluke. We’ve never had any need for military strategy until now.” He dropped his voice. A mild surprise for a metallic man. Most have monotones. Not the general.

  “But this is something you must communicate to your superiors. The Destroyers are engaged in a war of extermination. You must fight the same kind of war. Every ship, every man must be destroyed or humans will continue to be in danger. As far as we can tell, every Destroyer has been commanded to destroy humans. They will seek to do so until we have been eliminated from the galaxy.”

  “We will do what we have to do,” I said. “If Carthage must be destroyed, then we will destroy it.” He gave me the puzzled look again. “Sorry, another incident from Earth history.”

  For the next fifteen minutes we did computer simulations of the proposed attack. A dozen different plans were subject to computer analysis. Each of us looked at them and offered options. I imagine the Japanese went over the best ways to attack Pearl too before they decided on their final battle plan.

  We all agreed we needed split-second timing. The Destroyers obviously had us outnumbered, badly outnumbered. If they were given a second to react, they would kill us. But if they could be distracted momentarily by the two attacks on their soil, we had a chance. While they wondered what was attacking them, we would materialize from hyperspace, release our planet buster bomb, then zoom back into hyperspace before the bomb was even close to the ground. Communicate immediately to the Preservers ship when the bomb was heading down so they could exit fast too. If there were any delay, we’d go up with the planet. The huge explosion on the third planet should take out the second one too or knock it out of its orbit. Any facilities the Destroyers had there would be rendered useless.

  After another thirty minutes of simulations we thought we had a decent plan. Not a particularly sophisticated one. Gen. Dwight Eisenhower had to coordinate troops for five different landing sites on D-Day. All in all, things went well. Ike was an excellent general and a pretty good president.

  We had nothing as complicated. Come in hard. Shoot straight. Get out quick. A much easier battle plan than Ike had.

  Now if we could just carry out as well as he did...

  Chapter 14

  The planet exploded, sending huge chunks of earth and parts of buildings into space. Our ship disappeared into hyperspace as did the Preservers’ vessel. The second planet wobbled and lurched and tipped. It slowly rolled toward the sun.

  According to the computer simulation, it was a successful mission. Of course, at times there is a difference between theory – and computer simulation – and reality. But at least in theory we were all alive and safe.

  Except for the MITTs.

  I would miss them. I didn’t realize how much I liked our metallic guys until I had to send them on the suicide mission.

  I turned to look at the general. “If you liked bourbon I’d offer you a drink. Looks like our plan was a success.”

  He smiled. “As you surmised, I don’t drink, major, but don’t let me stop you having one. I gather having a drink is something of a minor celebration with humans. Don’t let me stop the glee.”

  “OK. Who would like a drink?”

  Rab and Astrid raised their hands. I walked to a portable bar and grabbed three glasses. I put one before each. Then lifted a bottle of bourbon from the bar and filled the glasses.

  “This will taste even better after the real thing, but we can have a drink now,” I said. I sipped the bourbon.

  “One thing I’m wondering about, general, is the origin of your races. And I’m curious about the Shadowers. Can you resolve my curiosity? I’d like to know something about them.”

  “There’s very little we know for sure. Tales and fables and legend with little evidence to back up any of them. I can tell you what little I know.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you would.”

  Shortly after time began, or perhaps a little while about time started, the Shadowers appeared. At least those were the legends according to the general. To this day no one is sure what they really were. They were humanoid in appearance and a case could be made they were “human”, but not like the flesh-and-blood men and women the general was dealing with now. It was said they were nasty in temperament but brilliant in science.

  Very nasty in temperament.

  Very brilliant in science.

  It was whispered they created both the Preservers and the D
estroyers, although which was created first is not known. Or perhaps they were both created simultaneously. One theory is the Preservers were first out of the metallic hatch. While technologically fine, they had a rather pleasant nature, which irritated the Shadowers. So the masters decided to eliminate their creation and start again. Although the Preservers had a pleasant nature, they had developed Artificial Intelligence and objected – in their pleasant way – to being eliminated, not that their views mattered to the Shadowers. A revolt occurred and the Preservers fled from their creators. The battle was bloody and raged across the solar system. But eventually, the Preservers defeated their creators and left for a peaceful environment.

  Never one for graciousness, the Shadowers did not accept defeat lightly and swore vengeance. It took a long time, even long for a metallic man, but the creators built another race. Their second metallic creations were also technologically brilliant, but had more of the Shadowers’ personality. They were designed just to kill. They were meant to hunt down the Preservers and annihilate them. They also had an intense and everlasting hatred of humans, although why this was instilled in the gold guys the general couldn’t say.

  “It is simply in their metallic nature to hate,” he said.

  The general didn’t know what had happened to the Shadowers. He assumed they were still around someplace in the galaxy – a prospect I found rather unsettling. But there had been no sign of the Shadowers for millennia. Perhaps they were in a very long hibernation.

  I found that difficult to believe. If a race wanted to start a war, it seemed to me they would want to stick around to watch the destruction. Would they just disappear? Why not watch the hated human race go up in flames? Then again, different races will think in different ways. What would be eminently logical to a human might seem totally illogical to many other races. And from their behavior, the Shadowers didn’t seem all that logical to begin with.

  Chapter 15

  Our attack would commence in one day, seven hours. We had worked out the coordination with our MITTs before they left. The general said the timing was fine with him.

  I sat in my office as all the officers checked and double-checked our weapons’ systems and every other system on the ship. We didn’t want any malfunction when we headed into battle. I buzzed our communication officer, Rod Picone, a freckle-faced man who looks like he’s always ready to laugh. I asked if there was any communication with the MITTs. He nodded.

  “We’ve gotten a brief message in code, but it means the Destroyers did not shoot our shuttle down. They have shown an interest in our MITTs. They were being taken to the planet for interrogation,” Picone said.

  “You got all that in code?”

  “Yes, we worked out the codes with the MITTs before they left. A few words is all we need to check on their progress. If they get to the planet, then we should get a few more words from them if they can send. If it was risky, we told them don’t send any messages.”

  “Yes, this may be a time for silence.”

  Instead of his usual wide grin, Picone looked troubled.

  “What’s wrong, Mr. Picone? Things are going well. We haven’t died yet so there’s room for optimism.”

  He frowned. “One thing is bothering me, sir. We sent the MITTs off to say they were traitors to us and that they want to join the Destroyers. Metallic solidarity, things like that.”

  “Yes. And if the messages are accurate, our enemies may have bought that line.”

  Picone’s frown deepened. “Sir, I’ve never had much association with our MITTs. My job doesn’t put me in contact with them. But what if that’s actually true? What if they actually join the Destroyers? They know almost everything about our weapons and our defenses and they know our attack plan. What if they are turned, sir, and actually begin to help the Destroyers?”

  “Then when we come out of hyperspace we’ll die,” I said. When he blinked with alarm I said, “That’s probably not much comfort to you, Mr. Picone. But let me assure you that your concerns are unwarranted. In our history with MITTs, not one have ever turned on humans and fought with our enemies. They are as dependable allies as we could possibly have. They seem to like us, flawed as we are.”

  “But we are not like them, major. We may have been allies but we are human, flesh and blood; we have feelings and emotions, we laugh when we’re amused and cry when we are hurt. The MITTs don’t do that. They have no emotional connection to us. The question of Artificial Intelligence remains open, but if AI is a possibility the MITTs have it. Logically, why should they sacrifice for us? Shouldn’t they gravitate to machines or metallic creatures that they can relate to?” He paused for a moment. “After all, sir, our lives depend on them. If they tell the Destroyers of our battle plan... as you noted, we all die.”

  “That’s true enough. I can’t prove this, I guess, but I see no traitorous tendencies among the MITTs. I think they are like dogs in one sense, and I mean that in the most positive way. Astrid and I love our two golden labs. Our canine friends are incredibly loyal. If another dog attacks us, our canines do not side with the dog. They side with their human companions and protect us. One other point. The Preservers, by your logic, should be expected to fight alongside their metallic cousins the Destroyers.”

  He shook his head. “That’s different, sir. The Destroyers started the war with their ‘cousins’ as you call them. In that case it’s only logical that the Preservers would defend themselves and fight back.”

  “True, but the Preservers did not have to jump into a war between humans and the gold guys,” I said. “They could have stayed away. If they acted only out of self-preservation they could have informed the Federation of a surprise attack. That would have given the Federation the advantage over their enemies. It’s a nice, safe way of doing damage to your enemies. But they didn’t. They offered their help and are risking everything for us. Which is one reason why I trust them. The second is I sort of like the general. To me, he has credibility and a fair sense of humor.”

  “Yes, sir, but as officers going into battle we have to consider every scenario. It’s true the MITTs have never betrayed us, but they’ve never been tempted before. Now they’re with another metallic race. Maybe they will want to stay.”

  “Our metallic friends are strong to such a temptation.”

  “We hope.”

  Picone didn’t sound convinced.

  I reached into my desk and grabbed a glass, then grabbed the bottle of bourbon. I poured the bourbon into the glass then paused. One thing Picone had said was true. We have to consider every scenario, but the MITTs turning on us was one scenario that never crossed my mind.

  I guess he said two things that needed to be considered. The MITTs had, as Mr. Picone noted, never been tempted before. Perhaps you don’t know how strong your loyalty is until you face temptation. But there was no way of telling how the MITTs artificial minds worked. Yes, their brains were modeled on human brains, but there was a great deal of creativity, innovation, and high-tech variety in those metallic brains. Plus, they could have developed an intelligence of their own.

  I took another drink. I didn’t want to think about this subject. Especially since the MITTs knew our plans and could tell the Destroyers exactly what time our ship would zoom out of hyperspace. If the MITTs decided to divulge that information, we would be sitting ducks.

  Being a commander means you worry about everything. If Mr. Picone had not mentioned his concern I would not have even considered the possibility of a MITT betrayal. Now as commander I guess I had to weigh it. I swallowed more of the bourbon. It still seem far-fetched to me. The MITTs just wouldn’t fight for the Destroyers...

  Astrid knocked on the door as she walked in.

  “By the way, would the MITTs change sides, would they fight for the Destroyers?” I said.

  She gave me a look of complete bafflement. Then she glanced at the glass. I could read her expression. She was wondering if I had one too many.

  “That’s the silliest thing I eve
r heard. Why would you think that? Would our Golden Labs attack us? They moan every time we leave and yelp for joy every time we return. You either had too many drinks or too few.”

  I smiled. “I suppose.”

  “Don’t even think of that. It won’t happen. Come on, let’s go have dinner.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said.

  Chapter 16

  Military work can be tedious. Yes, we do have bone-chilling and stomach-churning episodes when we put our necks on the line. We kill the enemy, gut the alien and blow up random equipment and, occasionally, a bit of planetary scenery. The adrenaline flows as you balance on the edge of eternity. I guess we hit more emotional highs and dive into more emotional lows than other human beings.

  To many people, that would be an exciting life. While I enjoy it, I can get excited lining up a 12-foot putt for a birdie too, so blowing up stuff doesn’t have any special thrill for me.

  But it is also tedious. In boot camp, there can be a hundred or hundreds of repetitions to train a soldier how to act in combat, how to shoot, how not to lose control of his emotions. There are also hundreds of computer simulations repetitions when you are planning even a minor battle. Although no battle can be considered minor when men’s lives are hanging in the balance. And when the Federation might be hanging in the balance, you go over the repetitions even more than usual, seeing if you can spot any error, any flaw that you didn’t see before. Or seeing if you can think of an enemy strategy that you may have missed before.

  Long. Boring. Tedious.

  And absolutely necessary.

  I couldn’t see many variations to our basic plan. The problem was our limited information. If the Destroyers had littered the air with ships, that would sink our attack plan. Even though we planned to move with almost-lightning speed, if they had armed ships patrolling the air space on the planet, the chance we could fire a bomb dropped considerably. It also lowered the odds of getting out alive. Hyperspace is tricky. If you go in with a damaged ship, the space currents can easily tear you apart.

 

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