Multiverse 2

by Chris Hechtl

  Once he began to take fire, the guardsman hit back using his automated systems to target the smoke dispensers and the snipers. With the armor using his cloak, his energy shields were down. He took damage until he abandoned stealth and activated his shields.

  Mortars were called on the location, but the guardsman heard the encrypted communication signal go out.

  Before the rockets could strike, he switched to a full frontal charge. His attack made his shields return as his cloak faded out. He charged across the battlefield for the company's HQ, shrugging off heavy weapons. His shields sparkled like rain was hitting them, but his stride didn't slow.

  “Madre de dios,” the general's chief of staff murmured, eyes wide in shock and awe. “He's a juggernaut! We need to evac, sir!”

  The former captain pulled his top sergeant aside and gave him a hurried order. A moment later claymores went off in a line in front of the charging cyborg, but the juggernaut's shield rippled with purple as it absorbed and reflected the hits but didn’t fade.

  The laser armatures on the cyborg's back snapped and fired at heavy weapons targeting him. Targeting lasers were countered by effective jamming. The unguided rockets, however, couldn't be blinded. Their explosions ripped off behind him, peppering the area with shrapnel. A pair of rockets struck at the same time slightly off target but again, no damage. The cyborg dropped his head and charged at an incredible speed.

  The last ditch automated weapons fired as the purple blur entered the trenches. Desperate soldiers scrambled to fire at the monster in their midst or get away as the cyborg fired on full auto slaughtering people with his laser and Gatling gun. His arms swung about hammering at the soldiers. Anything that got into his grasp was torn apart in a welter of gore.

  The captain grimly called in a kiloton antimatter artillery round over the area. The major opened his mouth to object but the general waved him to silence. The spotter targeted the ground near the trench, not the cyborg. “Splash over,” a voice said over the artillery net.

  “Splash out,” the top kick said. “Hit the dirt!” He barked just as the round hit the area a moment later, slaughtering the few retched survivors and peppering the cyborg's shields from above as it's directed munitions pounded into him and the ground around from above. The captain murmured to a heavy weapon's detail to aim for the trench and strike when the cyborg emerged. He could see laser pointers sweeping the smoke.

  Momentarily finished with his slaughter, the cyborg jumped out of the trench just as a pair of pops from a plasma cannon made him stagger. He turned and from the other side again a pair of blinding purple pops hit his recharging shields. The overheated shields finally failed and a third set of plasma fired as well as a lone sniper struck like a revenging hammer. The cyborg's body was nearly cut in half. He went down with a titanic groan.

  The general waved his security detachment forward, but the relieved officer barked at them to take cover. The top sergeant and troops were already doing their best to turn into gophers. Hastily they did as well, just as the guardsman self-destructed.

  The general and his staff instinctively ducked at the antimatter explosion. Most of the damage was reflected upwards when it hit the slanted shields protecting the HQ. Still the structure shook and dust floated in a cloud in the room. When they came up warily, they noted the captain studying the bunker to make certain there wasn't a follow-on attack. “Sometimes they use one as a distraction for a second one or a pair,” the former captain said.

  “All clear … for now,” a voice said near the CIC post. The captain grunted.

  General Bernard straightened up and dusted himself off. He looked across the battlefield, bewildered by the carnage. The fall out and radiation in the area was nothing to sneeze at, he thought. Anyone who had been within a kilometer of that … thing would need to be decontaminated. And they had been holding off how many? For two days? He shook his head in wonder. “To face such horror and still continue to fight …,” he murmured as he gathered his wits. Something in him pitied the men and women around him.

  The captain didn't even bother to brush off stirred-up dust and debris as he turned to his superior. “As I was saying, sir, the only known ways to take a guardsman out is with a nuke, EMP, KEW orbital bombardment, or behind; nothing else works. Believe me, sir, we tried.”

  The general was shaken but recovered quickly. He nodded and looked to the captain almost pityingly. “My mistake. I didn't understand the situation. Carry on then, Captain.”

  The adjunct major seemed to protest, but the general waved him off. “He is right. In the tunnels the guard will be murder on the troops. Our small arms won't cut through those shields, and we can't get heavy weapons like that plasma cannon into the tunnels,” he said.

  The major blushed slightly but nodded dutifully. “I see, sir.”

  “They have left a tunnel entrance open from time to time to see if we'll take the bait. I won't. We're taking the attrition view, sir. The long view,” the captain said as he passed on orders to his troops. “By holding up like this, the emperor is sending out his guard in small packets, allowing them to be picked off in small lots. Eventually they will run out of troops, or reinforcements will arrive to help dig him out.”

  “I see. Defeat in detail. Good work,” the major said with a nod.

  “It's the only thing that seems to work, sir. Cut them into smaller more manageable chunks then hammer each in sequence. If we try to take them all on at once, we're screwed. We'd have to back up and call in an orbital bombardment.”

  “And our orders are to capture the emperor, so that is out,” the general observed. “I'll look into getting you some reinforcements, son, you just try to hold on,” he said.

  “We'll do our best, sir.”

  ~~~<*^*>~~~

  The emperor's family had fallen one by one in the war; his son Gregory had died when his flagship exploded by a lucky strike during the battle of Minos. His son, Piotr, had died at the hands of a suicidal assassin a year ago. His last surviving daughter has fled to a neutral star system but disappeared from view. Only Imperial Intelligence knew where she was; not even the emperor was certain. He had attempted to get his wife, the dowager empress, to run. But her escort had been located, and the hunt had begun. They were now pinned down and most likely captured.

  When word of her capture was picked up in a news brief by the captain, he sent in a bot with a white flag to tell the emperor. The robot delivered its message and was then promptly destroyed by the auto defenses, seemingly out of spite.

  “It is a trick, sire,” Admiral Terell insisted. “Even if it is true, we can get her back, sire or clone her ….” He shut up when he caught his liege’s dirty look.

  “It is over.” The emperor rumbled. He had no other contact with the outside; the Republic was jamming all of his communications. The last of his fiber optic lines had been severed the day before.

  “Sire …”

  “I say it is over. Enough. We are the Emperor. We have lost.” The star lords in the chamber with him all bowed their heads in shame.

  The broken Emperor began communicating with Captain Sloan. He sent out a robot envoy to negotiate terms. The captain was tempted to shoot it but held off. He kept it from transmitting, however; he refused to allow it to radio back any intel it had gathered.

  Instead he had his top kick dig up the fiber optic line they had cut while digging a trench and then had his communication's team tap into it. They immediately passed on the communications to the brass, who quickly cut them out of the loop.

  The Republic president negotiated strict terms. In exchange for fair treatment of his wife and surviving people, the emperor and his lords offered to surrender. It was a magnanimous move on the emperor's part. It put his own head on the chopping block to protect his people.

  When the agreement was finalized, the emperor left the bunker in his show of surrender with the remainder of his guard, ordering his people to stand down. One of his minor terms was to surrender to the hero of th
e last battle, Captain Sloan.

  When the emperor came out into the light, he ignored the harsh smells and paused to enjoy the sunlight on his aged face. The troops were shocked at his appearance. The guardsmen protectively encircled their charge, protecting him with their unarmed bodies until the emperor ordered that they stand down.

  The emperor met Captain Sloan in full dress splendor. He was surprised at the unassuming captain but followed protocol and turned over his sword. When Sloan and his top kick escorted him to their HQ, the emperor put out the call to his people to stand down. He also sent out a signal to shut down his ships and industry and then destroy it. His technology would be destroyed and not used against his people.

  “We had the best science, best technology …,” the emperor mused and then fell silent. He saw a broken soldier's body still on the field of battle and looked away in pain.

  “Wars are not won and lost by technology alone; they are fought by hearts and minds,” the officer quietly informed him.

  The emperor turned to look at him. He studied the officer for a long moment then nodded slightly. “Tell me then, what was our greatest failing?”

  “Your superiority complex your majesty. By setting yourself up as better than everyone else, you underestimated everyone else, and by treating people poorly, you angered them to the point of retaliation. Mankind cannot and will not tolerate a tyrant. We may like to be special, but we enforce equality in all. You forgot that lesson the Nazis and others have taught us and have reminded us of it once again.”

  The emperor frowned thoughtfully and then looked to him, as if studying his every cell. “You are the one who bested our guardsman in the Imperial Center on Minos as well as here?”

  The captain nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well fought, young man … and well said, young man. I hope to meet you again,” he said as General Bernard took the sword from the captain's top sergeant and handed it to his adjunct.

  “Thank you, sir. If you don't mind, sir, I need to attend to my men and duties.”

  “Very well. We shall await our fate,” the emperor rumbled, hands gently resting together in front of him. It seemed General Bernard had gotten word of the emperor's encrypted destruct signal and was not happy. Things could and most likely would go bad for the emperor, but he was at peace with it.

  ~~~<*^*>~~~

  A week later the Republic had the capital planet in hand and were nearly finished mopping up the last pockets of major resistance on the planet. Refugees and civilians were increasingly becoming a problem as the city's utilities shut down. Captain Sloan was passing a refugee camp; he witnessed some abuse by Republic soldiers towards a woman and peasant family. Immediately Sloan intervened and helped the woman to her feet. He was gob smacked with her shy beauty and poise, despite her rags and dirt smeared face and arms.

  For her part she felt an instant attraction and connection as well. It was electric; a sudden feeling of emotion that made her speechless.

  “Can I help you, miss?” the captain asked. He turned to the men. He admonished the men, and ordered them to treat all of the civilians with respect. He reminded them they shouldn't be poor winners; they were perilously close to falling into the trap of superiority that had made the empire fall. “Don't. Let's break that cycle, shall we?” The corporal in charge of the detail nodded.

  “Ma'am, if you have any more problems, please let me know.” He turned and gave her his contact info. She took it thoughtfully.

  ~~~<*^*>~~~

  Later that day General Bernard assigned Captain Sloan to the head of the imperial guard detail, much to the captain's dismay. He would watch over the emperor and the surviving imperial lords. He had also been promoted to the rank of major. The general silently pushed over the jeweler's box as if it was a prize. The newly promoted officer took it like it was a live hand grenade. The adjunct helped him change out his rank insignia.

  As he got the full story, Sloan felt a bit of a sinking sensation. The deposed emperor had personally requested him, stating that he was a man of honor and a worthy adversary. He had asked that Sloan meet with him regularly. Since the military command was still mopping up cells of resistance, high command had decided to humor him. “Sir, can I please have this order in writing?”

  “What for?” the adjunct asked, eyes narrowed in speculation.

  Sloan didn't look at him but kept his pose gazing above the general's head. “Sir, I'd like it to be put in writing and in my file for later. I do not want to be considered an enemy sympathizer in the future, sir,” he stated flatly.

  The general nodded. He was amused by the request.

  “Covering your ass, Major?”

  “No, sir, just respectfully requesting, sir. I don't know what the future holds, but I want a fair accounting, sir.”

  General Bernard and his chief of staff nodded at this. “The reporters and historians always find a way to muck things up with their spin,” the general muttered. “Approved.” He nodded to his chief of staff. “Make it so.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. And sir, congratulations on your own promotion,” Major Sloan stated, nodding to the general's newest star.

  “Thanks,” the general said, now bemused. “Go on, get out of here. Go meet with him, then meet Lieutenant Lincoln for a debrief afterward at 1800.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ~~~<*^*>~~~

  Major Sloan took the time to inspect the guard, make a few changes, then he changed into his cleanest day uniform for the next step. He realized he was dithering a bit, so he finally broke down and just stepped forward to the door.

  He met with the emperor in the atrium and made a wry comment about Napoleon's exile right off, which made the emperor smile. “A student of history I see.” He nodded.

  “I dabbled in high school, sir,” the major admitted with a nod. They played a game of chess before the emperor was called away for dinner. The major declined the polite invitation; he had to report for duty in a half hour. “Besides, sir, I know General Bernard is interested in discussing the future.”

  “Ah yes, for his memoirs,” the emperor said with a slight smile and sniff.

  As he exited the suite, he was ordered to follow an intel lieutenant to another room where he went through a grueling debrief.

  A comment from the emperor during the dinner with General Bernard about how Major Sloan would have made a worthy donor for the star lords got him more grief. It took hours to prove his loyalty. He finished the interview angry and tired. “I'd rather tangle with a damn guardsman than go through that again,” he muttered to himself. He still didn't know what had happened to them. Scuttlebutt said they had been taken somewhere and then dissected or destroyed.

  He turned on the news for a brief moment then shut it off in a pique of disgust. From the report it was pretty much apparent that the movers and shakers in the Republic were unhappy about the tech destruction. Many powerful industrialists and senators had banked on getting a piece of the tech for themselves to make their fortunes on. Now that was all gone.

  The act of lobotomy had stripped the conquered empire of all technology, which had led to a deepening already humanitarian crisis. The good news was that the destruction had destroyed the gestation chambers however, so no more super soldiers would rise again. But the rank and file of ordinary citizens who depended on vats to grow their food or special filters to recycle their water waste for use were now starving. There were some mutterings that the emperor had planned on that, planned on his own people's suffering creating contrition in the Republic, or even bringing about their own government's fall from guilt. The major stripped off his jacket and shook his head. He was pretty sure things were more than they appeared, but he acknowledged that he for one didn't care. He was a soldier; he'd follow orders.

  ~~~<*^*>~~~

  The next evening he received a call from the woman and met her at the gate to the refugee camp. She had gotten cleaned up but was still dressed in what he thought of as rags. He got her a fresh coveral
l, and she gratefully took it. He stood by with his back to her as she changed in a closet. Food for the imperial refugees was still rationed, so he signed her out and took her to the officer's mess and let her eat.

  Apparently it was now customary for the Republic soldiers to do similar things. He'd heard rumors that some were taking advantage of the desperate people. Some were turning into predators. It troubled him, but he knew there was no way he could control it. It would be up to the IG and JAG office to get a handle on such things. As an officer he intended to treat the lady with every modicum of respect she deserved.

  She was reluctant to go to the mess, “Others are starving and yet …,” she waved helplessly.

  He shook his head. “I can only deal with the problems I see in front of me. I can only do so much.” He spread his hands in supplication. “Do you want to eat or not? The food will give you strength to help those you can later as well.” She gave him a long look and then nodded slowly. He ignored the sidelong looks from the other officers as they ate in companionable silence.

  He also turned a blind eye as she took a bag of food back with her to the camp.

  ~~~<*^*>~~~

  Over the course of the next week and then into the following one, the unlikely duo met several times. For him it was a reawakening, a time to relax, decompress, and feel again. Some of the outpouring of bottled-up emotion from combat came pouring out, and he needed comfort. He'd heard that the stress of combat made soldiers horny and vulnerable. He wasn't sure if that was true or not.

  He did his best to channel his more animal instincts into more positive avenues. He didn't want to lose her; he treasured her contact. He helped her in line, sent her materials to help the small medical clinic, and even walked with her when she seemed frazzled. As their relationship deepened, the emperor drew the major out into talking about the relationship.

  The emperor seemed oddly distant at first before he seemed to reconcile himself to the distraction. Sloan wasn't sure what that was about but was amused to receive the “approval” of the monarch. The couple had a whirlwind romance when Cecily kissed him. He admitted his vulnerability to her, his love but stubborn refusal to take advantage of her. She chuckled softly and took his chin in her gentle fingertips and then kissed him again. “Silly boy. I'll have to take advantage of you then,” she teased wickedly, eyes glittering with mischief. She kissed him again so thoroughly time seemed to stand still. After that he gave in to his passion and followed her lead.