REV- Rebirth

by T. R. Harris

  Then his mind cleared and he became aware of where he was. He sat up and looked across the room. To his shock, there were no barriers or huge objects covering the floor. Instead there was only open ground, with nothing between him and the NOV standing a hundred feet away near the doorway set at ground level. The alien wasn’t activated, but he watched Zac with an amused look on his yellow face. He could tell Zac was injured and drained of energy, while the NOV was healthy and soon to be at full strength. Watching the Qwin, Zac got the impression the alien believed he could take Zac out even without activating. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be up to him. Still, he began a slow, determined stroll Zac’s way.

  That’s when the NOV’s chest was zipped open by a line of high-velocity shells ripping through his skin. Zac recoiled from the echoing sound of gunfire, something that sounded vaguely like the rounds from an M-101 assault rifle.

  He followed the sound up, to the railing around the arena.

  “Did you miss me?” said Kyle Johnson’s smiling face, the barrel of a deadly projectile rifle resting on the railing.

  Angus and Donovan Ross ran past him on the catwalk, their own weapons firing in a symphony of staccato discharges. Zac heard other weapons firing, mainly flash bolts with the occasional bang of alien ballistic guns. Someone was returning the Human’s fire, and the REVs were taking cover within the lower seats surrounding the arena.

  Kyle lifted his head again and dropped a braided rope over the side of the railing. “Courtesy of the stage hands,” Kyle yelled down at him.

  Zac limped to the side wall and took the rope. He tried pulling with his right arm but discovered it was broken from the fall from the portal.

  “I can’t make it,” he yelled. “You’ll have to pull me up.”

  “Can’t even pull your own weight, sheesh.”

  Zac wrapped the rope around his chest and tied it off. Kyle—with the cascading he was experiencing at the moment—could pull Zac up by himself. But Angus ran over while Donovan continued to lay down covering fire.

  Just then, the side door to the chamber opened and another bloodshot-eyed NOV raced through, focusing immediately on Zac hanging halfway up the outer wall. He ran at full speed, covering the distance in only a couple of seconds.

  The REVs pulled. Zac was a little higher by the time the NOV reached him. But it wasn’t high enough. The Qwin super-warrior jumped, grabbing hold of Zac’s left leg.

  The rope gave way and Zac fell back to the ground. He rolled to his left, looking for the NOV. The alien rose to his feet a short distance away. And that’s when a short burst from Angus’s rifle sent five rounds entering the top of the alien’s skull.

  Zac looked at the dead alien, thinking he’d been right. Congin was never going to let him out alive, not with a fourth NOV waiting on the other side of door number three.

  The REVs tried again to lift Zac from the chamber. This time, he made it. Zac was in pretty bad shape, with each fall and hit he’d taken causing more damage than the one before. Angus and Kyle hauled Zac over the barrier leading to the seats and its cover from the incoming gunfire.

  There were a number of Enif guards in the arena area, along with about ten Antaere. Fortunately, none had come equipped with heavy assault weapons, only small, hand-held standard issue.

  Still, the incoming fire was horrific. The REVs huddled together behind a concrete barrier as shells and plasma bolts tore into it. Occasionally, one of the Humans would poke the barrel of his weapon over the top and set off a few rounds, just to keep the enemy honest.

  And then something happened that made everyone stop in their tracks.

  A voice rang out from the huge speakers lining the video screens hanging from the ceiling. It was a voice Zac knew well.

  “Now this brings us to recent events,” the voice said.

  The image of Zac’s hospital room was displayed on fifty-foot wide screens, on all of them. And there was Congin Bornak, seated in a chair at Zac’s bedside, his legs crossed, looking comfortable and confident.

  “The war with your kind had not been going well, yet not from the actions of the Antaere, but because of our weak-minded alien followers. They enabled your kind to gain victories on the Colony Worlds, almost to the point where Antara would be threatened next. So I devised a plan, one that would turn the Grid against the Earth and expose the Humans to their eventual extermination. I planted the story of the Corollaries. I provided the false document which you and your REVs took from the Temple. And yes, I destroyed the Temple of Light.”

  There were audible gasps from the Enif, who moments before had been firing on the Humans. The recording continued to play.

  “It was the catalyst for the loyalty shift I needed to happen within the ignorant masses on the Colony Worlds. I even devised the recent trap on Kaus to show the Colony Worlds the ineptitude of the Humans, with the added benefit of making Earth distrustful of any overtures from the Colonies. All has worked to perfection.

  “And when you were captured, I continued with the deception. You have not been aware, but we have used your computerized image to confess to a multitude of wrongs, and not only the Temple destruction. Through clever digital manipulation, I have turned you into the greatest terrorist the galaxy has ever known!”

  Congin Bornak sat in the control room of the production center, his mouth open, his eyes wide, watching the recording play on the big screens. But not only that, this was being sent all across the Grid, and even to the ships in battle above the planet Earth.

  “Turn it off!” he yelled to no one in particular. Enif and Antaere technicians scrambled for their controls. But still the recording kept playing.

  “And the Corollaries; they have recently become a minor hinderance to my plans. The fake document you retrieved on Iz’zar was never revealed, yet the true texts are now being broadcast. We are countering the truth with our own deception, yet the message is slowly penetrating.”

  “Turn it off!”

  “We cannot, my Lord,” shouted an Antaere tech. “We do not control the signal.”

  “Yes, the Final Glory is real; how could it not? There is no room in the Universal Order for anyone other than Antaere. It will only be Antaere, now and forever.”

  Congin could see the glaring eyes of the Enif on him. There were four times as many of them in the control room as Antaere. But the only person with a weapon was Congin.

  He blasted the first of the Enif who made a move toward him. This set off a chain reaction from the others, as Enif fell upon the unarmed Antaere while Congin shot his way out of the control booth. He sprinted down the corridors, past other Enif, many of whom had not heard the broadcast, not yet. He had to get out of the building and to the cover of armed Antaere. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of them left on Enif. Most were with the fleet nearing Earth.

  25

  First Insir Bensin Noloc was in command of the Antaere fleet. He called it the Antaere fleet because that was what it was, even if a third of the ships were crewed by the Enif. Besides, he knew the strategy. The Enif would be the first sent in to sacrifice their bodies and ships to soften the Human defenses. It would be enough to open a breach through which Noloc would send his forces. Sparing Antaere lives in such a one-sided battle was his objective. That and the destruction of Earth.

  But Noloc was also frustrated. He had been instructed by the Rowin not to commence the attack until after a specific broadcast had been received and viewed by the fleet. It was supposed to be some inspirational event, something to help bring honor to the upcoming battle. Noloc didn’t need any such incentive. He hated the Humans as much as any Antaerean, having fought them for the past twenty years. He knew that all within the fleet felt the same way.

  But Andus Zaphin had insisted, so Noloc joined him in the officer’s dining area to watch the broadcast before resuming his duties on the bridge.

  Noloc grimaced when he saw it was to be an execution—although an elaborate execution—of the alien known as Zac Murphy. The Insir knew of th
e Human, what Antaerean didn’t? His image and exploits had dominated the vids for half a year, to the point Noloc was growing bored of all the repetition. But he knew the broadcasts weren’t for the benefit of the Antaere, but for the natives of the Colony Worlds.

  He settled back to watch the show, vaguely intrigued at how much trouble Lord Bornak had gone through to stage the event. But then it got even more interesting when three Antaere, using Human weapons, showed up and started shooting up the studio.

  Remote cameras and drones picked up the initial moments of the battle, including the rescue of Zac Murphy from the floor of the arena.

  What happened next was completely unexpected.

  The once chaotic scene of battle was abruptly replaced by a placid single camera view of a room with two figures inside. One was Zac Murphy, lying strapped to a hospital bed. The other was Congin Bornak, and he was speaking some of the most incredible sentences Noloc had ever heard from an Antaerean.

  Andus jumped to his feet. “Stop the recording! Stop it now.”

  “We cannot,” someone said. “The broadcast was ordered to be played.”

  “I ordered it to be played,” yelled the Rowin. “And now I order it to be stopped!”

  “The signal will have to be broken in comm, my Lord. I will see to it immediately. And then it will only affect this ship.”

  The Antaere rushed away, as the rest of the senior officers in the room continued to watch the video in silence. They were all Antaere, so the subject matter wasn’t shocking. Instead, they could all understand the potential repercussions of the broadcast.

  Insir Noloc stood before his troops. “This changes nothing,” he said. “Return to your stations. Begin the assault immediately.”

  Inside the production center, the four REVs lay back against the shot up seats, looking up at the large screens on the ceiling. There was silence all around, until the men were shocked into action by the sudden eruption of gunfire once again.

  They peeked over the barricade and saw a number of Antaere firing on a much larger number of Enif. The natives had watched the video—which was still running—and then slowly turned to look at the Antaere. The moment turned from tense to nuclear a second later. The Antaere fired first, fearing the mood of the natives. Seconds later, all the Antaere lay dead, having been cut down by the vastly superior number of Enif security forces.

  Then the REVs heard more gunfire—distant—some coming from inside the building, some from outside.

  Without waiting to see how things would settle out in the arena, the REVs retreated the way they’d come, through back corridors and freight elevators. Angus led the way, while Kyle and Donovan helped Zac. By the time they exited the building through a side loading dock, Zac was unconscious, either overcome by his injuries or the alien drugs in his system.

  There was chaos across the quad, but nowhere did the REVs see any Antaere—except for the three of them dress as Antaere. What they did see, however, were fifty heavily-armed Enif security troops coming their way, anger on their faces.

  The REVs stopped and held their ground. The Enif stopped, too, their weapons pointed at the Humans. That’s when Angus slung the weapon over his shoulder, and with considerable effort and angst, removed the offensive contact lenses from his eyes. His baby blues reflected the bright sky above. Kyle and Donovan followed suit, one holding Zac while the other removed the contacts. Then they took Zac by the arms and held up his comatose body, proud and defiant. Three against fifty, even those odds were a little much for the REVs.

  The Enif were well-armed security personnel coming to the aid of their comrades in the production building, and originally intending to square off against the three Antaere who were reportedly shooting up the place. Then came the broadcast. Now slowly, the mass of Enif troops began to separate. With quiet reverence, they stepped aside, creating a path between them for the REVs to pass.

  Angus didn’t have to be asked twice. He moved ahead with Kyle and Donovan close behind, dragging an unconscious Zac Murphy along with them.

  Andus Zaphin and First Insir Noloc were on the bridge of the mighty Antaerean battleship, one of six such vessels commanding the various elements of the massive assault fleet. The mood on the bridge was solemn. Word of the broadcast had spread, even to those crewmembers who had not watched it.

  Noloc tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. Once the Humans were destroyed, the natives of the Grid would have to submit to Antaerean will. Even so, there would be bloodshed, but mostly alien blood. Antara would prevail. The Order would survive.

  “Send in the Enif,” Andus ordered.

  Noloc bristled. It was his job to give the orders, not the Rowin’s. But he kept his tongue. He knew Andus was anxious to turn the page on this terrible episode in Antaerean history and rid the Grid of the Humans. There were other aspects of the broadcast which did not reflect well on Andus, and which would be addressed at a future date. Noloc was sure those concerns were also on the Rowin’s mind.

  On the large tac screen at the forward section of the expansive bridge, icons of Enif ships began to move and cluster. The Humans had more ships aligned for planetary defense than had been anticipated, five hundred eight to be exact. Yet that was still only a third of what the Antaere had brought to the system. But it was the weapons platforms that posed the biggest threat to the fleet. These were huge circular stations with over a hundred guns each. There were six platforms in orbit, each with overlapping responsibilities. The planet wasn’t entirely covered by them, but it did leave only narrow gaps for the fleet to enter to get at the individual defenders between the stations and the upper atmosphere. It was decided early on, that in order to expedite the effort, at least one of the platforms would have to be taken out to form a hole in the Human defenses. And that was the job of the Enif.

  “Assemble in sector six-b,” a tactician said to the Enif fleet commander. “Attack formation Neop-one.”

  The three hundred ships of the Enif contingent slid to the left and formed into two long columns. They would approach the platform head on, and then peel off to either side, laying down fire while also taking heavy casualties. The last fifth of the ships would not change course, but instead follow the torrents of plasma bolts to strafe the station from point-blank range. Again, casualties would be heavy, but acceptable. All the Enif needed to do was take out one of the platforms. The other stations were in fixed orbits and wouldn’t be able to change position to fill the gap. What Enif ships that remained after the attack would cycle back around and speed through the opening, taking the brunt of the Human fire from the amassed warships behind the shield.

  At one point, it would be time for the Antaere to advance, swarming through the breach in the defensive line like gendich hornets with the scent of a kill. Even the Humans mighty battle-carriers would fall to the overwhelming firepower brought to bear upon them.

  The Enif were now in position, the first of the units touching the outer range of the platform’s weapons. That’s when they began to peel away…yet without firing a shot.

  The dual lines of warships veered off, turning ninety-degrees up-bubble and racing above the plane of the ecliptic and away from the planet.

  “Enif command, report status!” a voice cried out on the command bridge of the Antaere flagship. “Enif command, return to station.”

  But the Enif kept going, streaking away and fanning out to engage their gravity-drives at the earliest opportunity.

  Noloc knew what was happening. It was Bornak’s accursed video.

  He turned to a pale Andus Zaphin. “My Lord, we still outnumber the Humans two-to-one. In light of the alien betrayal—as well as the anticipated repercussions of the transmission—it is imperative that we continue with the objective of destroying the native population of Earth. To suffer the consequences of Lord Bornak’s admissions, while leaving the Human race intact, would be a grave mistake.”

  “I have no intention of committing a mistake, grave or otherwise,” Andus snapped at the fl
eet commander. “I understand the strategic advantage we have and I will not abandon it. Our goal is the same; a weapons platform must be eliminated for the attack to succeed. First Insir, allocate your ships.”

  “Yes, my Lord!”

  Noloc was bursting with energy and pride. He had never been a supporter of using alien crews aboard Antaere ships, even if the aliens had built them. The truth was, aliens built all Antaere ships. It was the quality of the crews that made the difference, as had just been demonstrated.

  “Force Four, Five and Six, prepare for strafing attack, sector six-b,” Noloc ordered through his command comm. The initial strategy was sound, but now it would be Antaere leading the way.

  The same attack pattern was used, but this time with two-hundred eighty-five Antaere-piloted warships. The weapons platform lit up the vacuum of space with a blinding array of pink flash bolts, pink because of the incredible temperature of the elemental energy. Platform-based cannon were the largest deployed in space, with twice the power of even battleship-grade weapons. Yet each platform only carried six of the heavy guns, along with forty standard and the remainder smaller, more target-specific weapons. There were also several batteries of ballistic weapons available, yet these were used primarily for closer-in, last-ditch efforts to ward off missiles or suicide attacks. All in all, the platforms were formidable, but even they were susceptible to overwhelming incoming fire.

  Such was the Antaere attack plan. With enough incoming, the Human gunners would have to concentrate the bulk of their efforts on defense of the station, rather than targeting the crossing enemy units. By the time the Antaere had spiraled past the first time and lined up for a second attack, ninety-one of their ships were either damaged or destroyed, but the platform was operating on only its short-range ballistics. The last spear of assault ships shattered the base of the platform, creating a chain reaction that quickly consumed the station.