Alien Empire

by Anthony Gillis

  “Our last intelligence from Bacchara itself showed severe reductions in their air force with the fall of the former, pro-enlightenment government. We estimate they currently have about seventy-five combat-effective aircraft. We have confirmation of earlier reports that the Grounders are attempting to utilize captured shuttles. Several are proceeding to join the other Grounder forces. We’ve also located a major underground research and weapons facility in the desert outside of Ais.”

  Fitzgerald considered for a moment. “And what of reports of a drop off in tactical discussions among the Grounders?”

  “Captain Sir, we believe they are using ground data lines to avoid airborne interception.”

  “Which means,” interrupted Fitzgerald, “that some of what we ARE hearing is likely misinformation.”

  He hailed Deputy Ambassador Hsien at his chambers far to the stern of the ship.

  “Deputy Ambassador Hsien, do you have your report and reinforcement request completed?”

  “I’m finalizing now. It will be on its way to you for your countersignature code in moments.”

  “Thank you. I think I have an optimal use for your Diplomatic Liquidation Team. Let’s discuss it after I brief my crew.”

  “Certainly, Warden Ship Captain Fitzgerald.”

  Fitzgerald pressed a communication button on his command chair.

  “Attention all crew. We are approaching the anticipated engagement zone. As per orders, we are going to eliminate enemy command and control capabilities, and then withdraw to high orbit to await reinforcements. Do your duty, for honor, for enlightenment.”

  29

  The atmosphere was tense in Ais. Liberty Palace, a prime, perhaps the prime target, was emptying fast. Abida had gone into the city to coordinate defenses on the ground. Karden and Tayyis were on their way to board a helicopter for Neem and Jat’s lab. Deba, armed to the teeth, accompanied them along with a squad of guards.

  “Colonel Deba,” said Tayyis, “are you sure you need all that?”

  “Absolutely Ms. Tayyis, I have been ordered to guard all of you at the facility, and so I will.”

  Karden grumbled, “I’d prefer you help me convince Abida to let me stay here.”

  “Professor Karden, there will be many experienced tactical commanders on hand here, and I think your very original strategic mind will help our long-term cause best by surviving the battle.”

  “But…”

  “Please Professor Karden! Forgive me for also pointing out that you are not a young man. Here, let me help you up this ladder…”

  They boarded, and the helicopter was off.

  ///

  Time passed, and tension built like electricity in the air.

  On the horizon, far out at sea, dozens of fast moving objects appeared. In the brief moments observers had, all knew they were missiles. They came without the screaming roars of missiles known on Ground. They came with the ominous silence of Elder technology. They came with death.

  Liberty Palace disappeared forever in a maelstrom of flame. Explosions ripped through gun emplacements and missile batteries. Batteries with empty painted steel mock-ups where the missiles had been. Soldiers and civilian paramilitaries had evacuated the areas around the antiaircraft defenses. Many didn’t go far enough away. Flames spread and buildings collapsed. The dying screamed.

  Another wave of objects appeared on the horizon. More than a hundred Elder fighters and armed shuttles swooped toward the city with silent, deadly beauty. Their energy shields flickered in the afternoon light. Behind them, far away and high up, came something vast.

  The seventy Baccharan fighters sent to defend Ais engaged the Elders, lost a third of their number within seconds, turned and fled across the city. Most of the Elder fighters pursued, while others, along with the shuttles, banked low to strike targets on the ground.

  A thousand brilliant red-orange lights, like a field of flowers with petals of flame, appeared across the city. The lights rose as small surface to air missiles screamed toward the Elder craft. The Elder pilots reacted quickly, but not all of them quickly enough. Shields flickered out, Elder shuttles and fighters vanished in flame, and on the other horizon, inland, hundreds of Grounder fighter craft came roaring toward the battle.

  ///

  On a rooftop amidst the smoking ruins of a commercial district, Hesdi Abida made calls to commanders around the city. Explosions were all round, and above. He wore ballistic armor. Slung on his shoulder was a special gift from Neem – Ground’s first effective handheld railgun. It was a large cumbersome thing, but Abida was a very strong man, and used to shouldering weapons.

  He stopped, saw something, an Elder shuttle, circling and strafing an area nearby. Rockets and gunfire were wearing away at its shields. It started to lift off to escape and recover. He raised his weapon, fired a burst of shots at hypersonic speed. The shuttle came apart.

  Abida knew what was coming next. He leaped over the edge of the roof, sliding down a rickety gutter that twisted and fell above him. He hit the ground hard, ran for a drainpipe under a road and dove in, crawling fast, as vermin chittered and fled.

  An explosion ripped the buildings behind him. He felt the blast and the debris, he gained some new scars, and came flying out the other end of the drain like a shot. He turned in midair and took the brunt of the impact on his armored body to protect his weapon.

  Abida flipped to his feet, turned and aimed up at the now ascending Elder fighter. He fired a long burst of shots. It blasted apart, debris flying skyward then down again in an arc as gravity won its own battle. Abida had bleeding wounds and was covered in soot. No time to wait, he thought. He ducked down a narrow twisting alley and emerged, phone in hand, to take charge of a group of Baccharan troops.

  ///

  In his chair on the Bridge of the Vigilant, Fitzgerald arched an eyebrow.

  “Tactical Officer, casualties?”

  “Captain Sir, thirty-seven shuttles and twenty-five fighters confirmed lost”

  “They are far better prepared than anticipated. Tactical Officer, order remaining units to disengage as soon as practical and return to the Vigilant. Helm Officers, slow and prepare to ascend to orbit.”

  Hundreds of Grounder fighters fought Elder craft, pursuing them back across the city and out to sea. Attack helicopters lifted from hidden stations along the coast and joined the pursuit. While the Elders headed straight for their ship. The Grounder fighter craft began to bank upward, accelerating into the sky.

  From two different directions, and very high up, came further aircraft. From the east, twenty one advanced southern-design air fighters, from the west, the MSSA.

  “This is Air Colonel Varen, Tadine Air Force, moving to intercept Elder starship Vigilant. Who is this?”

  “I am Prince Edad of Harrat, and this is the Harrat Royal Air Force. I’m glad to meet you at last Air Colonel! You are a legend and a hero to me. Let us deliver death to our sworn enemies!”

  “Glad to meet you too, prince. I think we’ll have our chance in not too long. Watch out, looks like they’re able to target us even at this range!”

  “Air Colonel, is it only my imagination, or does the upper side of that… thing… look deficient in weapons? Particularly in the middle, where those launch bays are located?”

  “I think you’re right, prince, maybe we should go in for a closer look.”

  ///

  Abida peered over a hill of rubble at a huge Elder transport shuttle. From the reports on retrogression, he knew it would be loaded with marines, ready to block off escape from Ais and mop up survivors of the bombardment. Instead, Baccharan fighters had forced it down in the center of the city. It was heavily damaged, but looked like there might be survivors.

  He was right, a panel on the broken side of the shuttle blasted open, and massive Elder soldiers in power armor burst out, moving with superhuman speed toward cover. He aimed a railgun burst at the head of one of them, and the hypersonic shots took the man down. He ducked and slid back down
the rubble. The bricks and concrete overhead came apart as railgun shots and rocket grenades exploded all around.

  Abida gathered a group of his troops, as hundreds more swarmed through shattered buildings and around smashed vehicles. He heard motion, signaled his men, ducked and rolled behind cover as a squad of Elder troops rounded a corner, monstrously large in their armor.

  Firing his rail rifle from the ground, he shot one of them down at the ankle, then darted backwards as they focused fire on his position. His own men fired from hidden positions, and then fell back as he’d instructed. The Elders reacted with frightening speed, taking cover and aiming deadly return fire. Two Elders went down, but so did many of his own men.

  One of his wounded men tried to play dead, then suddenly popped up, firing at an Elder at close range, but the hastily aimed shots glanced off the power armor. As the man fired, the Elder dodged out of the way, grabbed him, and almost casually threw him twenty feet into a brick wall. Abida shot the Elder down with a burst of railgun fire and raced low around a corner, but his soldier did not move again.

  He and his troops continued firing and falling back, drawing the Elders into momentary traps whenever possible, and avoiding pitched gunfights. It was horrible, he was losing eight or nine men for each Elder, but overhead the air war had turned in his favor. Finding a vantage point, he was able to start calling in air strikes, and the tide turned.

  ///

  Nearly four hundred and fifty Grounder aircraft, a motley collection of new and old, fighter jets and helicopters, converged on the Vigilant. Deadly accurate fire from the mighty Elder craft picked them off one by one. The Elder fighters and shuttles defended their ship, banking and diving at seemingly impossible speed.

  The Grounders had a massive advantage in numbers, but that began to dwindle. For every Elder craft they downed, five or six Grounder fighters exploded and fell into the sea. The attack helicopters focused their potent firepower on the Vigilant, slow and easy targets, rail guns shattered them methodically.

  Air to air missiles from dozens of Grounder fighters struck home, while even more were picked off in mid air by lasers and particle beams. Random fire, intentional and incidental, struck the great ship from all directions. Still, the mighty shields, glowing with faint blue-white energy, held firm.

  ///

  Far out to sea, the Jayesthiri naval squadron watched the Vigilant begin to ascend. They’d so far been ignored by the Elders. The Admiral in command of the squadron surveyed the distant battle.

  “I think now is the time. All crews! Fire cruise and surface-to-air missiles.”

  Missiles streaked toward the vast Elder warship, or rather, one part of it.

  ///

  In the newly established command center in Neem and Jat’s lab. Karden sat with the others watching the battle on an array of video monitors.

  “The odds are starting to turn against us,” said Jat, his mind counting every downed craft on either side.

  “I think you’re right,” said Karden. He picked up a communications receiver, made a call, a short one.

  “Send it up.”

  A patch of ocean surface, not far from the Vigilant, began to roil and bubble. Fast-inflating rafts lifted a grid of hastily-welded steel from beneath the waves. Sixteen small platforms were welded to that grid, and on each platform was a railgun.

  The guns were mounted on complex arrays of gears to move them any way the operator desired. The operators, the best marksmen in Bacchara, were wearing heads-up helmets with telescopic capability to maximize their accuracy. However they were not on the platform. Each of them was hidden in a random place along the coast, under bushes and behind screens. Close enough to keep signals instantaneous, and to see what was going on firsthand from a distance if needed, but comfortably far from the highly exposed guns.

  Sixteen rail guns fired nearly simultaneously, built by Neem to deal maximum damage in as short a time as possible, they poured hypersonic rounds into the Vigilant. Or rather, one part of it.

  ///

  On board the Vigilant, Warden Ship Captain Fitzgerald showed what, to those who knew him, might be a hint of surprise.

  “Defense Officer, enemy is concentrating fire on the bridge. Reroute power from upper shields to frontal. Tactical Officer, note that enemy has acquired railguns.”

  The Tactical Officer spoke. “Captain Sir, acknowledged. Also, we detect incoming surface to air missiles from a Grounder naval squadron outside the original engagement zone.”

  “Concentrate forward lasers and particle guns on the enemy missiles. Launch remaining Class One missiles to eliminate the squadron,” he paused, “And target lower forward main guns to destroy that weapons Platform.”

  ///

  Colonel Varen swooped down from above with Prince Edad and his squadron, as the upper shields before them began to fade.

  “There’s our opening, let’s take out those upper guns,” said Varen, his voice level.

  “For Glory!” cried Edad.

  The Harrati fighters swept in with what Varen thought an amazing combination of skill and recklessness. They swept straight toward the middle line of the Vigilant’s top, an area where only a few guns could be brought to bear against them. Still, those guns exacted a toll.

  Edad launched a missile, a perfect shot, and the gun at the stern of the ship went up in a spectacular explosion.

  Then Varen saw it. There was a gap in the fields of fire of the guns all along the top. The launch bays ran most of the length, and the Elders had of necessity placed guns along the upper sides. But they’d missed something. Craft flying low and close, dangerously close, to the upper surface of the ship, could just duck under the fire of those side guns.

  Only the other top center gun, the one near the bridge, stood in the way.

  Varen decided to take the chance.

  “Edad, there is our gap! If we take that front gun out, we can do a lot of damage along the top of this ship.”

  “Come on men, to victory!” shouted Edad.

  The little squadron, only fourteen fighters now, moved in for the strike. Guns fired, planes went down, but they kept their fire up on the forward gun, and it too disappeared in flame. The surviving Harrati fighters fired everything they had against the launch bays and the remaining upper shields.

  Varen swept straight up that center line, his plane no more than a step or two above the surface.

  Only a few of the naval surface-to-air and cruise missiles had survived the lasers and particle beams. Those that did were still powerful. Massive explosions struck home against the forward shields of the Vigilant. From below, withering railgun fire hammered hundreds of kinetic rounds against the flickering shields. As the Vigilant’s massive lower guns locked onto their targets, the fire was suddenly silenced.

  But in that same moment, the shields flickered out, ever so briefly.

  Varen swept the Little Surprise past the prow of the Elder ship, ducked to catch the bridge in his back blast, then used his side jets to execute a spinning high speed reverse. The rear of his craft rotated as he slowed, then turned fully around. For the briefest second, he was facing the bridge, he could see the figures inside, looking surprised.

  He unloaded everything - missiles, gatling rockets, autocannons and railgun. The bridge ripped apart in an inferno of flame and shattered metal.

  The MSSA was already accelerating forward, and passed through its own fires of destruction. Varen could feel the heat in the cockpit as external components ripped loose and internal systems melted. He gunned the engines and skittered, like a barely controlled rock, along the back of the ship. Anti-fire devices activated, but he could feel the heat burning his lungs with each breath.

  “Slag!” he muttered, “Sorry Little Surprise, I think this is our last trip together.”

  The MSSA shot from the back of the Vigilant and now began to act all too much more like a rock. Its tremendous speed kept it going forward, but it was arcing, inevitably, toward the ocean far below.
<
br />   “Goodbye old friend,” said Varen as he pulled the escape lever, wondering if his chute would open, if he would get shot out of the sky, and if there would be anyone to find him, down in the turquoise sea below.

  ///

  The Vigilant was built with many redundancies and failsafes. Some who saw the bridge explode in flames expected the ship to plummet from the sky, or come apart in some spectacular chain reaction. It didn’t. Each gun had its own independent crew and fire control, each system, its backup. It continued to bring destruction to the aircraft around it.

  Far out to sea, the Jayesthiri naval squadron was smashed to pieces as heavy missiles struck home. Flames rose amidst the wreckage still afloat, and men screamed amidst the flames.

  However, bereft of command and navigation, the great engines of the Vigilant sputtered to a halt, and it began to drift, slowly, in the air. The guns continued, but their fire became less coordinated. The Elder fighter craft and shuttles were all gone now, and the shrinking, but still large, number of Grounder craft concentrated their fire on the crippled ship.

  Then, far overhead, a new group of Elder shuttles appeared. There were anxious looks from grounder pilots. Someone hailed.

  “Sorry we’re late gentlemen, but hold your fire. This is Air General Sellis of Tadine. These shuttles have Grounder crews, plenty of weapons, and full complements of soldiers ready to help!”

  There were cheers on the ground and in the air.

  “General Sellis, this is Haral Karden. From what I can see and what I’m being told, the top of the Vigilant is in pretty bad shape. What can you see up there?

  “The bridge and navigational rooms are gone. The topside guns are gone, and one of the launch bays is ripped clean open.”

  “That is what I’d hoped to hear. General, I have a radical proposal for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “If you are fully loaded as planned, with all the craft you’ve got, but especially that large transport shuttle, you must have upwards of eight hundred men aboard, most of them Special Forces.”