The Star Chronicles: Book 01 - Battle for Earth

by Rod Porter

  “My troopers will be prepared for anything.”

  “General, you will not be facing sentinels and the usual soldiers. The prison break showed the aliens tanks, helicopters, humvees. Their means of combat will evolve. And the Council does not want to launch a major offensive on a remote island with absolutely zero idea of the kind of resistance there will be. About all we can count on is that the aliens will now be more formidable in combat.”

  Troy hated to admit it, but he knew that the other officers present had to agree with the Council member. There was no telling how the aliens had evolved from sentinels. They had been difficult enough to deal with before, but now…He didn’t even want to think about it.

  Troy continued to keep to himself in Jade. A few times, he had considered visiting the local bars and theaters where resident actors put on live plays and other performances in front of an audience. From time to time, he would get lonely and entertain thoughts of some companionship. He missed his wife terribly, and thought about her every night before he closed his eyes, only to think of her again when he awoke. He wondered what it would have been like to rear his son in a place like Jade, with so many more opportunities than in the regular underground colonies of the wasteland.

  Jade had a good educational system. It had a functioning economy. Here, you could guide your child down a path that would lead to something; there were a wealth of different jobs that a young man or woman could grow into. Apprenticeships were common and taken seriously. But in the end he could only wonder, because he had lost his child.

  Troy’s keen intellect and capacity for military and combat tactics were astounding. He scored very high on his aptitude tests as well as his combat training exams. It was no secret that he enjoyed a special relationship with the General, but he was earning his stripes and more. And it was not only the military higher-ups that saw potential in him.

  It was the end of another long day of military training. The day had ended with a thirty-mile run in full gear, and Troy was exhausted. He sat in the mess hall, gratefully throwing back a tall glass of water. The Unconformed mess hall was definitely not a social club. Riker’s Tavern, back in his home colony, had been such a nice place to relax with friends after a long day. For a moment, Troy actually felt homesick for his old colony.

  Troy was distracted from these thoughts when he saw Demoskeena enter the room, flanked by two younger males, whom Troy had learned were called altar boys. The mess hall got a little quieter with the entrance of the head priest of Jade’s Catholic Church. Distrust for the Church, and Demoskeena in particular, was widespread throughout the Unconformed, no doubt following Jackson’s ideals. Yet the elder priest made his way around the room, making small talk with the more obliging soldiers.

  One of the altar boys discreetly made his way to Troy and handed him a note before slipping back to the priest’s side. Troy opened it up. The note read: ‘meet me at the church at dawn. I have a proposition for you.’

  BROADCAST

  Troy stood off to the side of the room. Jackson was sitting at a table in front of a ham radio with a written statement in front of him. The Unconformed put out broadcasts from time to time that would reach most radios that were still functioning out in the wastelands. The broadcasts were aired to update the people-in Jade and in the wastes-on the current state of the resistance. Anyone in the wastelands with any kind of radio turned on would pick up the broadcast message. Jade’s tech and comm experts saw to it that each and every broadcast put out by the resistance was cloaked and untraceable. It had been a long time since the Unconformed had put out a broadcast, Jackson had told Troy. The people were due for an update. Finally, the room went silent and Jackson spoke into the receiver.

  “Good evening,” he began. “I hope this broadcast finds you alive and safe. Friendship, family, security, community. There is no substitute for these luxuries during these trying times. By now, some of you in the wastes have heard murmurs that an alien prison camp was assaulted successfully by resistance fighters earlier this week. This information is, in fact, accurate.

  “Hundreds of human prisoners were freed,” Jackson continued. “The resistance fighters met with heavy opposition. Soldiers and sentinels still are the plague’s weapons of choice. Dozens of aliens were killed in the operation. Once the prisoners were out of the building, it was destroyed. A powerful network of explosives brought the entire building down. We are not sure about how many more aliens were killed in the explosion, but we are certain they sustained heavy losses. Make no mistake, we have dealt a serious blow to the enemy. There will be more to follow. You have our word on that.

  “We cannot go into detail, but another major offensive is already set in motion. Humanity is ready to strike its second major blow to these trespassers. It is vital that you all listening to this broadcast have faith in us. But most importantly have faith in yourselves, because you are the reason that the resistance is possible. You who keep your heads down and continue to push forward, not knowing what tomorrow will bring for you or for the ones you love.

  “I make you this promise. Your sacrifices will be rewarded. Your diligence will be repaid. A new day is coming. Those who would hunt us down today will become the hunted tomorrow. Those who have betrayed us to the aliens, the clock is ticking. Soon you will have to answer for your treachery. A war is coming, and God help those who are not on our side, for you will reap what you sow. We will never stop.

  “This is Jackson Anderson. We are the Unconformed. And we will survive.”

  Jackson ended the transmission.

  OFFERINGS

  The booth Troy sat in was slightly uncomfortable. His reason for being here contributed to his nervousness. Demoskeena’s aide had delivered the message that he wished to speak with Troy privately. No doubt the elder priest wanted a friend inside the resistance. Why else would he want to meet? Troy guessed that none of Jackson’s soldiers had ever given in to Demoskeena’s advances, and with the recent success of the prison break, it would be nearly impossible to flip anyone in the Unconformed.

  But Troy was not here to cut a deal. He was here because he believed knowledge was power, and he believed that, phony or not, Demoskeena was eventually going to be a very powerful man through his Catholic Church. It had unsettled Troy that Jackson completely dismissed politics in Jade. Troy believed, particularly after educating himself with the books Jackson himself provided, that the way toward real progress was together rather than divided. The system of checks and balances he had studied were foremost in his mind. One day, things would not be able to be accomplished by brute force alone. Slippery politicos had to be dealt with, albeit carefully, and he was here to do just that. Government and politics were part of the solution more than the problem. However, Jackson’s well-being and the well-being of the Unconformed were Troy’s top priority.

  “I am glad you came, my son.”

  Troy had forgotten that Demoskeena was on the other side of the booth’s wall. They were in what had been called a confessional. Apparently, it was some kind of booth where one confessed to the priest on the other side all the violations committed contrary to the church’s teachings.

  “This is not a pleasure call, Demoskeena,” Troy began. “I am here as a resistance fighter, with their interests at heart. So speak your piece and get it over with.”

  Troy could sense the priest grinning from ear to ear. “Right down to business. I like you, Troy. You recognize the need for diplomacy, yet you remain a soldier, committed to your cause. You are loyal, but you acknowledge the need for alliances and cooperation. Troy, I was initially against the raid on the prison camp, and it did turn out that I was perhaps wrong. But this offensive that the Unconformed are mounting, it troubles me. It troubles me deeply.”

  Finally, Troy thought, they were approaching the elder priest’s angle.

  “Like all skeptics of this mission,” the priest continued, “our fears are based in the aliens’ ability to evolve. They will be tenfold as volatile to deal with as th
ey have been since the invasion. General Anderson’s way of doing things is coming to a close. He will not be able to defy the Council, the Quorum, or the Church forever. All it will take is one major fiasco for people to start exploring different avenues to implementing policy.”

  “Get to the point, Father.”

  “My son, I fear that this offensive will be that fiasco. Many fighters will be killed, and the enormous public support and momentum for the resistance will fade away.”

  Troy knew that Demoskeena wanted the offensive to be just that. The priest was right that politics and military might, would eventually have to be on a level playing field. But, at the same time, Troy also knew that Demoskeenadid not want the resistance disbanded. The priest and councilmen wanted a military that the Council and the Quorum could control.

  “As a priest, I am a man of peace. I need someone in the Unconformed I can trust and rely on. Believe me when I say I only wish to keep General Anderson’s authority intact. After all, he fights to keep us all safe. All I ask of you, Troy, is to keep me in the loop. It is no secret you are close to the General. If you could-”

  “Let’s cut the bullshit,” Troy interrupted. He was not quite sure what the priest’s angle was, and it was that lack of clarity that urged him to end the conversation. “I’m with the resistance, not the Church. You’re right. I do see the need for diplomacy. But I’m not going to be your lap dog. Unless you have something to flat-out say, this conversation is over.”

  Troy got up and left. He was frustrated because he could not quite figure out what Demoskeena wanted. Obviously he wanted a snitch and informant, but to what end, what purpose? He would have to watch the elder priest very closely.

  It had been nearly a month, and Tommy’s condition was not improving. He had been moved from the thermal water chamber to a regular infirmary bed. Mickey rarely, if ever, left his side. The teenager had been fortunate to see Jackson and Troy again, and they came to visit regularly. Yet there was one person whose visit resonated the most.

  Demoskeena had made it a point to visit the wounded and infirm resistance fighters who had been hurt in the prison break. The priest visited, along with his aides and with some of his “parishioners,” as he called them. He had shown particular interest in Tommy. Tommy’s story of his rescue of Mickey was the most romantic. Mickey talked with Demoskeena for nearly an hour on one particular day. The Bible was the thickest book Mickey had ever seen. Over the past week, he had devoured nearly half of the gargantuan book. Demoskeena had given Mickey his very own copy and told him that it would get him through hard times; Jesus would always be there to listen even when no one else would. The more he read, the more it drew him in, and he had decided to leave sick bay to pay a visit to the city of Jade’s First Catholic Church.

  “I was told to come see you specifically, Father.”

  Mickey was sitting across from a young man in his thirties. Father Jennings was one of the youngest priests of the Church, but Demoskeenahad seemed confident when he referred Mickey to seek out Father Jennings if he ever felt the urge to get answers about the Catholic faith and the mysteries that surrounded the readings in the Bible.

  “He will be patient, and he will direct you in the path that is most appropriate,” Demoskeena had said when referring Mickey to the priest.

  Here he finally sat, in front of Father Jennings. The man did not look like much; Mickey had expected someone with a larger than life aura about him. Father Jennings did, however, have a voice and a tone that commanded attention.

  “What is it you are seeking?” Jennings asked.

  “I don’t really know. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here in the first place. I’ve got a friend who is very sick, and I should be by his side. He saved my life by risking his own.”

  Father Jennings nodded. “I see. Is it guilt that you feel?”

  “I guess a bit. Yes. Yes, I do.” The fact that Jenning’s face carried no blame but was one of genuine interest and encouragement inspired a wonderful feeling that influenced Mickey to open up.

  “We were cellmates in the prison. He always looked out for me more than he had to, and I never really knew why. He didn’t have to.” Mickey paused reflectively. “I just wish I could return the favor for once, and make things okay for him.”

  “Your heart is in the right place.” Father Jennings was a moral man. Mickey found himself wishing that priests like Jennings were running the Church, instead of Demoskeena and his senior clergy. “I see you carry the Bible with you. It can be a frustrating read.”

  Mickey laughed and nodded. “Yes, Father, it can.” It felt good to call someone Father.

  “You must have questions.”

  “I think this book is pure and complete nonsense. I mean, you have this God who creates everything and kind of cruelly plays games with those people who he asks to trust in him. Then eventually you have this Jesus Christ.” He stopped to look and see if his words were causing offense. They did not seem to be. “Here is a guy who is performing miracles, curing blind people, walking on water? It seems a bit much.”

  “This Church is made up of a lot of people with different views of the Bible’s teachings,” Father Jennings began. “We have fundamentalists, who believe that the Good Book, which we call it sometimes, is meant to be taken literally: that every word in the Bible is accurate and that is how it happened. Then there are those that believe the Bible is not meant to be taken literally.

  “Let me tell you what I believe,” Father Jennings said to an attentive Mickey. “Is there a God? I don’t know. Nobody does. But I have faith that there is.” Father Jennings paused to look at Mickey. “Faith can save peoples’ lives. It can bring people together and make things better for us all; I have seen it. It’s about faith, my friend,” the priest said, placing his hand over his heart. “And I am confident that that is something that you can see. That perhaps, after finding your own faith, you could help others to find theirs.”

  OFFENSIVE

  “Operation Flemming will be the call sign.” Commander Wheeler stood in front of the six battalions charged with ground operations in the upcoming offensive. The plan of attack was simple enough. Six battalions were called to handle the ground operation. They would be ferried onto the shores of the island by boat. The ramps would come down, and they would storm the beach, expecting the possibility of heavy resistance.

  Delta squad was widely regarded as the most elite special forces ops team in the resistance, and Troy found himself among their ranks. Troy had great potential as a soldier, but most of the soldiers ridiculed him for becoming Delta because of his close ties with the General. Delta’s mission was different from the others. They would approach the island underwater. Intelligence put a drainage pipe underneath the island that the team could use to access a small storage structure.

  Once ground troops had taken positions close enough to the compound, and with ample cover, Delta would begin disabling the electricity that coursed through the gates surrounding the structures believed to house the targets. Six battalions, six structures.

  Command was going to be coordinating the entire operation from a barge, miles from the island. The War Council did not like the resistance brass being so close to the enemy, but the Unconformed were cocky these days. Resistance was expected to be firm, but nothing unmanageable. The aliens had no idea that the Unconformed even knew about the compound.

  Troy’s stomach had been in knots for the entire trip. The second submarine ride of his life had been much more nerve wracking than the first, courtesy of the knowledge that he was about to embark on a mission that could lead to his death. Delta squad was made up of seven soldiers. Commander Rollins was probably the toughest son of a bitch Troy had ever met, and it was fitting that he commanded the Unconformed’s best of the best. The first thing he had told Troy when he put in his papers for the special ops squad was that he didn’t have a chance of making it through basic training. It had more than satisfied Troy to not only prove him wrong, but to have th
e highest overall aptitude scores of any recruit ever to test for Delta squad.

  ‘Balls’ was the demolitions expert. Since Troy had been the only recruit to have a higher aptitude for explosives than Balls, they had become close. Ernest Balls Wells was a real cowboy, and never seemed to have much regard for his own safety when dealing with explosives, which came in handy.

  Corporal Michael ‘Mac’ Roberts was a machine gunner and as big as a house. His heavy-ammunition machine gun would lay down cover and support fire that could keep an entire squadron at bay. He was fond of having the high-caliber ammunition wrapped over his right shoulder and around his waist. Mac had a quick temper, and he took the same position as most of the Unconformed in resenting Troy for his meteoric rise through the ranks. Troy had heard Mac had taken five years and a twelve-gauge to the bicep to earn enough stripes to even try out for Delta squad.

  Randall ‘Doc’ Patterson was the team medic in the field. Like Mac, he had had to pay some serious dues before being assigned to protect the best. Also like Mac, and most of the rest of the resistance, he did not much care for Troy, but the man definitely knew his stuff. Patterson was the best medic in the resistance.

  Amy ‘Trigger’ Jenkins was a riflemen, and absolutely deadly with her carbine M16 assault rifle. She had applied to Delta squad at the same time Troy did, but she had put in three years with a resistance battalion before that. Her real reason for rising so fast was her marksmanship. With assault rifles, pistols, even heavy weapons to a degree, Jenkins was dead on. She knew all the special tactics like the back of her hand. Since they were both the new blood of Delta, she and Troy had a healthy bond; they didn’t say much to one another, but there was a mutual respect. Troy’s marksmanship was not that far off from Trigger’s, and Troy had spent his previous years living as a civi.