Crusade of Vengeance

by Jay Allan

  The Regent realized that its defenders were programmed to kill the enemy, to fire again on wounded specimens. But perhaps that wasn’t the wisest methodology. It recalculated, and it decided to send out a command to its few surviving bots. Targeting was to be directed at untouched humans, leaving more of those hit, but only wounded, alive. That would slow down the advance. More of the untouched humans would be diverted to caring for their injured counterparts, further weakening the attack.

  It analyzed the situation, evaluated the likely area of the enemy advance. There were several places it could place its remaining resistance. It considered each of them…and then it decided. It would allow the enemy to enter the underground complex, almost without resistance…and then it would strike again, with the last of its robots. Its remaining contingent was small, but the human forces were limited, too, and it believed its numbers were likely sufficient.

  Yes…that was the correct strategy. Between the gathering of almost all its remaining forces, and the new targeting directives it had issued, it was sure it would prevail. Almost certain, at least. There were too many possibilities, too many random events to calculate accurately…but it was almost certain, at least as far as its calculations could go.

  95.723% sure. Assuming its calculations were correct.

  * * *

  Max Harmon pushed forward, doing his best to hide the wound he’d taken. The shot had been one of the last ones fired by the enemy, and it had felt like barely a graze, but as he moved along, trying to keep his people going, he’d realized it was somewhat worse than that. He stumbled a few times, but he mostly managed to keep it hidden, or at least to make it appear that it didn’t affect him in any material way.

  But it hurt!

  It had been a long time since Max had been in actual combat, much less wounded, and he could feel his age in it. He was old, there was no other way of looking at it, and he really felt it now. But his determination rose above all else, over the doubts, the weakness, the stumbling of age. He had come to destroy the Regent, and that was just what he was going to do.

  “Okay, let’s go.” He had stopped, just for a minute, but he knew he didn’t have time for meaningful rest. The longer he stayed in one place, the more chance the Regent would strike, would clear away his remaining forces. He didn’t know where they were going, not exactly, though their scanners had pinpointed certain energy emissions. He knew his data wasn’t totally reliable, that he could just as easily have focused on energy sources for weapon systems as the Regent itself. The actual entity, the sole reason he had come, could be hundreds of miles away, thousands even…but he didn’t believe that. Something told him he was on the right track, more or less, and he had given himself entirely to that. He knew if he was wrong, if he was far away from the Regent, or if he simply failed to destroy it, his people were as good as through, whether the defenders endured the battle at Earth-2 or not. He simply had to destroy the Regent. It was the only way.

  He walked for a while, losing track of how far he had gone. The mountain was just over six kilometers from the battlefield, and he was almost there. He’d lost himself for a while, and the Regent hadn’t directed any of its remaining firepower at his people…yet. He understood, knew it was waiting until they entered the mountain. He had no idea how much strength the enemy still had, whether its first assault had been a token, or whether it had been a major effort. But that didn’t matter. He had what he had, and nothing more, and that was all he was going to get. He had to get through whatever the enemy put before him, and find a way to destroy it, or all was lost.

  He understood that any realistic assessment of his chances would be profoundly negative, but somehow he endured, and all his remaining people did as well. He understood just how important the mission was, how much their people back home counted on them, even as they fought desperately to survive their own enemy assault.

  He stopped, about 200 meters from the rising rock wall of the mountain. It was the last place that offered any kind of cover, at least until he found a way inside the mountain. He couldn’t see any of the enemy, but he knew better than to assume that was true. His best guess was the Regent would hold back its next attack, launch it when his forces were inside—assuming they got that far—but he knew he could be wrong, that his people could be attacked anywhere.

  “Alright…hold up a few minutes.” He raised his hand, shrugging off the shriek that tried to make it out. His wound was hurting, badly, but he focused on the task at hand. He decided to give his people a few minutes rest before advancing. He wanted to check out the situation a bit more before moving forward, anyway.

  He looked around, at the thirty-odd people he had with him. That was about a third of his total force, at least those who were left still standing after the last battle. He had sent the other two groups to the second and third likeliest locations, but he had kept the one he thought was best, the most direct route to the Regent, to himself…and the crew members lucky enough—or unlucky enough—to be with him.

  He stared ahead, at the mostly vertical rock wall extending upward from the ground. It wasn’t entirely straight, but it was close to it. He realized that the entrance, assuming there was one within his field of view, could be totally invisible, but he spotted two locations he figured were likely spots. Both were areas where the rock wall was indented, where something that looked like a path wound into them. The more he looked, the more confident he became. One of those was an entrance…at least he was willing to bet it was.

  What should he do? Divide his force, and explore both at the same time…or pick one to start on? He stared again, looking carefully. The two sections were perhaps a third of a kilometer apart, close, but not close enough to avoid dividing his forces. He wanted to examine both, to check them out carefully, but he realized his force was already too small. If he ran into trouble, if he actually found an entry into the Regent’s lair, there was the likelihood half his force would be defeated, even more than the chance the whole thing would lose.

  He stared again, looking at both points. Then he decided. The one on the right…there was something about it. It wasn’t material perhaps. In fact, he wasn’t sure it was anything but a hunch. Still, the more he looked, the more he believed it was the right way to go.

  “Alright, everybody…in two minutes we go forward, all of us toward the entrance on the right. Stay together, and keep your eyes out for anything. And I do mean anything.”

  He gripped his rifle, checking again to make sure it was loaded…and then he looked out, across the narrow open plain to the wall of rock…to what he was banking was the entrance that would lead him to the enemy.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Bunker Under Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)

  Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two

  Earth Two Date 04.12.63

  Achilles pulled back from the station. He had been commanding the last few orbital batteries himself, doing all he could to aim—to guess—where the enemy ships would be. But now, the final weapons system on the array went silent. That portion of the fight was over, the fortresses completely wiped out…and the lead enemy vessels were even then descending on Earth-2. In a matter of minutes, the city would be attacked…and devastation would spread across the surface. He had known that would happen, at least on some level. But the city could be replaced, he told himself, the buildings the people had spent more than half a century building could be reconstructed. If the enemy bombardment was truly fierce, however, if it went on for long enough to penetrate, to destroy, not just the surface buildings, but also the underground refuges, where most of the people now hid, then it would be truly disastrous.

  Achilles knew that, and he understood completely…but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. The ground based weapons were beginning to fire, the missiles launching on the approaching enemy ships. He understood that the foe was anxious to complete its mission, that they would approach quickly…and that gave an edge to his ground-based weaponry
. He would destroy even more ships, he was sure of that, but he was just as certain that some would get through, would reach their own fire ranges. And the city, at least, would pay the price.

  He knew there were farms, and other settlements outside the city, that perhaps five percent of the population lived there, and that these sections were more resistant to assault. But they could be destroyed, too. The entire planet could be bombarded, made lifeless, given enough enemies and enough time.

  He watched the ground-based defenses firing. He’d have taken charge of those, as well, but the approaching enemy vessels didn’t have the motion they did in space…and artificial intelligences were far better at targeting in that situation. He saw one of the enemy vessels take a hit—and rip open, splitting down the middle before it exploded—then another. But the enemy was firing, too, and their beams and physical weapons targeted the ground based facilities. The defenses were very powerful, but they were vulnerable as well, and it only took a few minutes for the attackers to put all of it out service.

  Then the enemy ships, those left in the fight, began their attack on the city. The vessels came in, and they launched missiles, dozens of them, hundreds. Achilles sat where he was and watched the defenses target the incoming weapons, firing from several still-hidden caches. Many of the approaching weapons were hit, most of them as a matter of fact. But just as Achilles knew, some got through…and a second wave of enemy ships added another volley.

  The exchange continued, even as the attacking vessels were themselves targeted by Frette’s ships. Finally, a few of the weapons detonated, exploding wildly above the ground, destroying whole sections of the city below.

  Achilles watched, as all his people did, he suspected. He knew most of them realized that their city would be destroyed, or something close to it, that their own survival was the real goal…but still, watching sixty years of work wiped out in a matter of seconds was difficult, for him and the Mules, and even more, he supposed, for the regular humans and Tanks.

  He stared at the different readings, changing every few seconds as more cameras were knocked out. The view changed, coming from farther off as all the local sensors were destroyed. But he could see well enough what was going on. The city was being obliterated…utterly destroyed. Even though it was no more than he had expected, he felt it, in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He had tried to focus on the matter at hand, on the survival of his people, but he couldn’t help but imagine the ruins, and the great road back, even if they did somehow make it through.

  The first wave of missiles was over ninety-five percent intercepted, but the three or four percent that made it through did their job. They were all set to air blasts, exploding a kilometer above the ground, and destroying everything that was constructed on the surface. Achilles watched as the city was destroyed, as everything visible that was human-constructed was destroyed, washed away completely. Even the outlying farms and settlements were obliterated, and within just a few moments, everything visible was gone, replaced by great plumes of smoke and fire.

  But Achilles knew his people still fought on, that most of them were still alive, buried deeply underground. He watched as the third wave of enemy ships approached, and he knew that they would begin targeting the hiding places, that their warheads would detonate on the ground, and even below, that they would begin excavating the survivors. He knew the enemy didn’t have a map of the underground facilities, that it would take more bombs to dig up the survivors, than if they’d had specific information…and he was glad for that, at least.

  But he knew they could do it…given time. And his weapons were spent, the attacks he could control all complete. All he could do now was watch Frette, and hope that her force stopped the enemy before they located and destroyed all the underground complexes.

  And convince himself he was right to share command with her, that she had a level of skill, of tactical brilliance, that even one of his Mules couldn’t have matched.

  * * *

  Frette’s teeth grated on each other, her hands clenched in fists as she watched the bombardment destroy the capital, obliterate all of the construction on the surface of Earth-2. She knew there had been few people above ground, that the vast majority were hidden in the great bunkers, clutching each other, hoping—praying—that they survived. But it still hurt to watch all her people had built destroyed.

  She felt the urge to spit out commands, to issue one order after another, but there was no point. She had her ships maxed out, beyond that even. She had lost two vessels as a result of her overloads, of the vast strain her ships were operating under. That was only a small fraction of the vessels she’d lost, of course, but they hurt worse. Their destruction was totally her fault.

  Still, she knew her vessels were way ahead, that they had caught and destroyed far more enemy ships than they’d lost, and she gave some of that credit to the high level her vessels fired at.

  She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the fight. She might not have any orders to give at the moment, but she had to stay up to date, understand every bit of the battle that she could.

  “Sir…the first ships are closing on the planet. They need to slow down now…if they’re going to go after the enemy vessels there.”

  Frette turned, looked across the bridge toward the officer. She considered thinking for a moment, but then almost immediately, words came out of her mouth. “Decelerate…all ships.” She might have done something else, looped around the planet, come back at a good angle to take out the enemy. Any other planet, and that is exactly what she would have done. But this was Earth-2. If she couldn’t save the buildings, maybe she could protect the entrenched citizens. And if she couldn’t save all of them, perhaps she could help some of them.

  She didn’t have a good idea what number of her people would constitute a success, how many survivors she had to secure to call the fight a victory. She just knew she had to fight…to the end.

  “All vessels decelerating, sir.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and responded with a partial nod. Her eyes were fixed on the main screen, watching as her ships, her fleet, moved ahead. She saw three enemy ships destroyed, almost in rapid succession…but she realized that even as her forces moved forward, the lead enemies were still bombing the planet.

  She looked at the lower corner of her viewscreen, at the atomic destruction that had replaced the city. Her quarters were gone, she realized, as were everyone else’s. She didn’t really care about hers, but she realized that if the population did survive, if it somehow endured, they would be forced to rebuild everything. All of the structural materials, the factories and foundries, were gone. Even if her fleet did win, did destroy the attacking enemy forces…her people would be building shelters and basic food processing, while the enemy was constructing new vessels.

  She had to win the battle, of course, she realized that…but it was also clear to her that the destruction of the Regent was every bit as crucial, even more so.

  C’mon Max…you’ve got to do it, somehow. You’ve got to pull it off…

  She drifted away, for just a few seconds…but then her ship was hit. Badly.

  She turned abruptly, looking across the bridge for the report she knew was coming. But she saw only a damaged section of the bridge, and the body of her aide, lying next to the station, clearly dead.

  She turned back, looking at the display again, and realizing it was damaged as well. It was still on, but it wasn’t updating positions. She looked behind her, realized that the bridge was no longer functional, that it wasn’t tied into any of the ship’s systems. She saw another officer lying, badly hurt but still alive, and she jumped up, raced toward him, waving at the other two survivors to come to her aide. Whatever shape the ship was in, whatever direction the fleet needed, it wasn’t going to come from her flagship, not anymore. She knew she had to relocate, possibly even depart the ship for another one…but she couldn’t leave her comrade behind. It seemed absurd, amid all the dying, and the destruction of her h
ome planet…but she just couldn’t leave him behind.

  “Come on…let’s grab him and get going. The bridge is shot.” She stretched out to grab his legs, as her comrade reached under his arms. Then they made it to the elevators. With each step, she wondered if any were still functional, and she knew it would be almost impossible for her skeletal force to drag their wounded comrade down the ladders and staircases that would be the option.

  She pulled and shuffled, and got to the bank of lifts, reaching out, a pressing the button…and breathing out as one of the sets of doors flung open, revealing a lift car inside. It wasn’t much, not in the scale of things going on, but she took it as a sign that fate had not completely eluded them. Not yet at least.

  She paused, just for an instant, sucking in a ragged breath. Then she said, “Come on…let’s get him in there,” and she poured all she had left into grabbing the man and pulling him into the car. She didn’t know for certain that it would work, but then she rose and pressed the button…and the doors closed…and the thing started to move.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Inside the Regent’s Fortification

  Alpha-Omega 12 III

  Earth Two Date 04.12.63

  The Regent watched as the enemy approached. It had seven exits to the surface, seven ways the enemy could have accessed it…which it realized was too many. That was one thing it couldn’t share the blame for, at least not in terms of initial design. The structure was built along with it, itself, long before it emerged from its deactivated status. Perhaps worst of all, one of the choices was the closest one, the one that led most directly to its core systems…and one of the attack forces was coming that way.