Multiverse 2

by Chris Hechtl

  For now he classified the dogs as drones. They might be good for base security. They certainly were intimidating enough. That was why, once they had been landed, he put them on perimeter patrol around the spaceport.

  Within hours of their landing, they encountered a few civilians. Most were immediately ordered to shelter in place, usually in a basement if available or an interior room. One or two pulled out weapons, and a few near friendly fire incidents had come about. There were fortunately no hard feelings on either side. Lewis organized the partisans as he called them into their own unit and had Ensign Xe coordinate with them.

  >*…*<>*…*<

  Colonel Zin trotted to a window when the first kinetic strikes lit the summer sky like vertical lightning bolts. He wore his traditional white lab coat; he pulled off his blue latex gloves and then reached down and pulled out a long pipe and put it in the corner of his mouth. “Sir, we're getting reports of kinetic strikes worldwide! Our own people are hitting us! Is this a purge?” Captain Jade demanded. “They aren't broadcasting anything!”

  Zin admired the captain. She was good as an intelligence officer normally, but this time she had failed him utterly. He was tempted to execute her but contained the rash emotion. He would need her, possibly everyone he had soon enough.

  “Calm yourself, Captain. It is nothing of the sort. At least I hope not. You should have known had one been in the works,” he said mildly, studying the fire. It was precise, beyond what his own people were capable of. He caught the woman's reflection in the imperfect glass. She was standing at attention, clearly aware that she was on thin ice. He was glad he was in the lab; he'd set it up a few weeks ago to continue his experiments. Now he blessed the spirits of space for his prescience. He heard a soft weak mew, one of pain and exhaustion near. He would deal with that soon enough.

  “Send a runner to Major Abercon or whoever is senior in command. Put them on alert. Order the second, third, and fifth, no, make that the fourth platoon to attack while the others hold for now. They are to fight a holding action, defend the spaceport. I believe third was just wiped out. I'll take first and you'll take fifth into the hills to disperse. Start your intel now. I need answers, Captain,” he said.

  “Yes, sir! On it. Why a runner though?” she asked, writing the order down and then folding it before passing it to a private. He nodded and took off like a scalded neo.

  “Because I want to stay off the radio. Order our best to do the same. They may be tracking it and beware of being out in the open. Obviously the enemy has the high ground; we have to fight as the natives did,” he said. The irony over the turn of events wasn't lost on him.

  Of all his subordinates, Jade was the most intelligent, the most worth saving. He realized the others were most likely doomed. “Figure it out on your own time. Keep off the radios. Pass orders with runners. Get our people underground and out from the open. Do that now. And get as much equipment as we can secured or dispersed,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a nod. Her lips pursed in a half smile. “I suppose it is fortunate we mapped those caves then, isn’t it?” she asked. He grunted.

  “Someone is going to pay dearly for this,” he snarled, picking up a pistol. He went over to the Neobear he had been working on and placed the pistol to the female's remaining eye and then pulled the trigger. The shot barely made the brown-haired female captain flinch. “Sterilize this facility. Take only what you can carry and move out,” he snarled. She nodded and moved out at a trot.

  “A pity,” the colonel murmured as he heard klaxon begin to wail. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw men and women scrambling out in the open hallway. “I was so looking forward to mapping your pain responses further, my dear,” he said, stroking the dead bear's black and brown pelt. He made a note, the .22 pistol was indeed too small a caliber to penetrate the bear's skull, even from the inside. There was no exit wound he thought, turning her head by the tape-wrapped muzzle slightly to check. He would have to pass that on to his peers if he should survive this. “And I have no time to skin you either,” he said to the dead bear, shaking his head. Another bothersome thing, he hated to rush. He shot her two cubs casually as he left the room and divested himself of his lab coat. He would love to stay and see how long it took them to die, but he had to be elsewhere soon.

  >*…*<>*…*<

  Heavy fighting in some of the towns and the capital lasted weeks after the invasion. They couldn't bring the civilians down at first; some were adamant about remaining in the ships even when the spaceport was declared secure. Most were tasked with running the spaceport with the few civilian dirt siders left in the area who were willing to come out and help.

  Lewis has to concentrate his forces to hit them in succession, using defeat in detail to first isolate pockets, then chew them up until they were broken or surrendered. His limited amount of armor couldn't be everywhere and took hits once the Horathians got back on their feet mentally and physically. For the first ten days, they didn't have any fatalities, though they took some casualties. Fortunately all were minor, and their implants or modern medicine could get the marines back on their feet and back into the fight within hours.

  His grim marines had to fight off attacks on the planet's single spaceport field as well. That was one place they had to keep; it was their one link to resupply from the ships in orbit. Fortunately, it was near the capital city so the covering force could draw on forces or even squid volunteers from the ships if they felt threatened. The Skyhawk and armed drones were a godsend. They could play over watch while also offering fire support from well out of the range of the enemy.

  As combat resumed on their planet, the natives wisely took cover during the initial engagement, unsure who was fighting who. But eventually, they had to come out for food and water. The marines saw them duck out, run like scared rabbits to various places, nervously looking over their shoulder. They didn't molest them or fire on them. The natives took that as a sign after a short time and slowly came out of hiding.

  Lewis didn't have the time to meet and greet people, nor did his marines; they had a mission to perform. But he did send a couple of medium-range drones out to do circuits around their perimeter with speakers to announce that the Federation marines had landed. That brought people out in the streets, at first in confusion, then in celebration.

  As they realized the turn of events, they turned on the Horathians with a vengeance. Those that were too afraid to attack them directly turned informant. When the retreating Horathians killed them to keep them quiet, they left a string of bodies, which was almost as good an indicator of their location and direction. It was painful to the marines to witness, however.

  Wherever they met the locals, the marines handed out spare MREs, water treatment kits, med kits, and blankets. Many were mistrustful, but others that took the gear seemed pathetically grateful. It tore at his heart to see it. They patted the marines or handed over various things for them to use. Some would point to where the enemy had been or was. Many begged that the marines stay on their block to keep it safe. Unfortunately, they couldn't do that. They had to keep moving, as Race said, “March to the sound of the guns. Someone somewhere needs our help.”

  Wherever his people found a mass grave or body of an alien or neo hanging in display, they marked the location on their maps and documented it they best they could. For now they could do little for the dead; the living had the priority. But they would eventually get justice they vowed.

  Lewis made contact with the surviving native leadership with some difficulty. Trust was in short supply to the natives; they thought they were just caught in the middle. They were all volunteers, either relatives of slain leaders or friends who had stepped up to try to keep some semblance of order under the occupation. Some of the natives were not looked on favorably by their friends and neighbors for collaborating with the enemy. He passed the links on to Captain Herschel. Perhaps the captain could make better headway with them. The reality was, he was still stuck with people wh
o didn't trust him. And people he wasn't sure he could trust either.

  Part of the problem was the initial landing and appropriation of gear. They needed vehicles; that was one thing the admiral couldn't really outfit them with. He'd sent three LAVs, some universal part kits, some add-on armor and weapons, and a pair of grav scooters, but that had been it. Ensign Xe had captured the Horathian vehicle park as well as several large vehicles for the marines to use. Apparently the Horathians had also taken vehicles from the locals, and when the marines had flat out refused to return them, immediately some bad blood had been born. Hopefully time would smooth the mess over. Besides, they didn't need the vehicles forever, just long enough to move his people around and capture or kill the pirates.

  In the meantime Ozzie and his overworked and underappreciated brood had spent hours with a couple volunteer mechanics fixing the best of the vehicles up and tacking on add-on armor whenever they got their hands on a motionless vehicle. Those vehicles were the most popular with the marines; they had the highest survival ratio. But each of the vehicles were magnets for enemy weapons fire. They'd lost two to plasma weapons. Some of his marines and others had been burned in the inferno.

  Lewis and the marines had also picked up volunteer partisans to hunt the Horathian bastards down. At first he wanted to reject them; they were most vulnerable since they had no training, support, or weapons. Hell, most were starving even with the MREs the marines had handed to them. They'd insisted on fighting though, stubbornly picking up fallen enemy weapons and ammo and following behind or even diving in ahead of the marines. He had made certain the medics treated them as they would a marine.

  He didn't have a hard count on them; hell, he didn't even know most of their names! Some dropped out briefly to sleep. There was no organization to them; they were just willing to fight—dozens, hundreds, possibly thousands of them. Hunters and their families were pouring in from the hinterlands to help too. Apparently they'd been sniping Zin's forces in their area, and now that the marines had landed, they wanted to help.

  Sixty of the partisans had expressed an interest in signing on with the marines to him or to Ensign Xe. Xe's reported statement to them was classic, “Get in line.” Craig's lips twitched in an involuntary smile. No training, but they had heart. Yeah, they'd make damn fine marines in time. Every single one of them had also vowed to make sure this didn't happen again. He agreed.

  He frowned again, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. They had to do something, get food and utilities going again. Get civilization functional, something. He didn't need riots on his head; he had enough to think about. His thoughts strayed back to the leadership problem. They were getting organized but agonizingly slow. They had to not only get their own area under control but then reach out and reestablish ties to other community leaders. Trust took time to develop. He was afraid they were running out of time though. Zin's forces were hardening. They had retreated out of many of the urban centers and into the back country. He'd assumed that would make them easier to identify with the drones but apparently the large number of local wildlife had disabused him of that assumption.

  His partisans had again come to the fore. They were out, scouting ahead of his people, making contact with farms that had survived. They were also most likely to commit war crimes, not that he cared, but it was a concern. It wasn't just the war crimes against the Horathians though, he reminded himself. It was against their own people. In their zest for revenge, some might step on toes … or misappropriate something. Looting was a niggling worry as was rape or a death. Fortunately, the civilians were volunteering hoarded supplies right up front to help out.

  Race had warned him quietly about other concerns as well. They had to be concerned with the possibility of a traitor, someone who would feed his own people into a possible trap. They could do it out of stupidity or if blackmailed with a hostage. But he knew his manpower was finite; they had to trust someone sometime. That helping hand would go a long way in the future; he knew it. To get the job done and secure the population centers, render aide, as well as hunt the pirates, he had to make compromises, take risks. Sometimes with safety. He just hoped he could live with the dead later.

  He scowled blackly. Six of his people were down, two fatalities, Private Kublecuot and Private Rionov. The other four were upstairs in stasis pods. The medics couldn't do anything for their injuries on the ground, just stabilize them and get them upstairs as quick as possible. They'd have to wait to get back to a real medical team to put them back together again.

  Everyone in his unit had been injured by now. Two were walking wounded. One, Private Ebony, stubbornly soldiered on despite losing her right hand and being burned over a third of her body. He wouldn't put her in the field, so she took over the mechs for him, freeing up another pair of eyes for him. She had an intensity that was sometimes frightening to watch.

  He was proud of them, damn proud, he thought. They had all earned purple hearts, hell a host of ribbons. Not that they would care about it, any of the accolades. He expected a lot of empty bunks when the campaign finally ended.

  “Sir. We've got intel on Zin, but it's old. We know he's alive; last report was he was headed for the deep hills,” Private Ebony said from across the room.

  “Damn,” Lewis muttered, picking up his helmet. “I'll be right there,” he said, gathering his gear wearily.

  >*…*<>*…*<

  Lieutenant Herschel Captain of Collier 2 used his ties to the planet to try to untangle the vacuum left behind in the leadership and make ties to the planet's authorities. Most were suspicious of him and the marine's motives. It took him time to find someone who he had known, even if vaguely. He was gratified that several cousins had survived the invasion, and one on his late wife's side even remembered him enough to use as a reference.

  The captain grimaced in distaste. He had one last contact to try; one he knew he would dearly regret. But he had no choice now. He nodded to Benny to put the call in. The communication's rating turned, then gave him a thumbs-up and gave the universal hand sign of someone on a phone.“Mrs. Yutzle?” the captain asked.

  “Miss. Definitely Miss. I didn't, you know, never mind that now,” the woman said with a strident voice that made him cringe. She was just as bad as ever with tones that could bend metal even this far away. “I presume I am speaking to the captain?”

  “Captain of Collier 2, ma'am, one of the ships in orbit that brought the marines here. My name is Lieutenant Azul Herschel. I don't know if you remember me, but we met a long time ago, a social function about twenty-six years ago,” he said helpfully. He tried not to picture the woman in his mind's eye, but it was hard. She'd been his age then, a woman in her teens with money since she'd been born into a well-off family. She'd tried to set herself up as some sort of socialite, someone who set fashion trends with the fashion elitists on the colony. She reminded him of a clown with the pink ruffled skirts and petticoat, white face paint, and heavy rouge, eye shadow, lipstick, and coiffed blond hair.

  “Ah yes, Herschel. The family down the street. I seem to recall the name now,” the woman said with a slight smile in her voice. “I am sorry to say your family moved away some time ago.”

  “Yes, ma'am. I left the planet to begin a career in space with my late wife,” the captain explained patiently.

  “Oh. Oh dear. I was about to ask you how it was working out. You have my sympathies, young man.”

  “It was … Well, as you said, now is not the time. I am calling because we are attempting to re-establish the planetary government and my marine counterpart is having difficulty getting through to anyone. Since I have the contacts, I thought I'd give it a try. Do you think you can help, ma'am?”

  “Help?”

  “Yes, ma'am, to reform the government. We, that is, Lieutenant Lewis and I, as well as your fellow citizens, need someone in charge. The lieutenant is too busy fighting the Horathians to oversee the process.”

  “Well, I dare say you came to the right place, young man. I do
indeed,” she said sounding excited and a little smug. “You said you are a widower?”

  “Yes, ma'am,” the captain replied with an unseen nod as alarm bells rang in his mind. There was a silky predatory sound in her tone, one that sent chills up and down his spine.

  “Well then, perhaps we can get together to discuss old times and reaffirm old acquaintances with new? Oh dear, I was going to invite you over for tea, but the estate is in such a dreadful state.”

  “I can … make accommodations, ma'am. In the marine HQ … or perhaps a local business if possible.”

  “Well, it would be nice to get out of the house I suppose,” the woman said. “That would allow the staff to air things out a bit. Are you certain it is safe?”

  “It is getting safer by the minute, ma'am,” the captain said, wincing. He was going to take one for the team here; he just knew it. But he'd damn well better find a way to keep the woman's claws off of him. Now he remembered what a letch she was, how she preyed on men. He'd lucked out that his wife had chased her off, but now he had no such protection. He tugged on his collar.

  “I am currently in orbit, ma'am, but I'll see if I can catch a shuttle down in a few hours. I am not sure about security arrangements, but I am certain we can do something,” he said.

  “That would be most excellent. Ring me with further details once they become available,” she purred.

  “Yes, ma'am,” he said, flopping back into his chair as he cut the channel. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh, this is so going to suck,” he murmured. He heard a snicker and turned a glower on his XO. The XO smoothed her face out into a polite innocent mask that didn't fool him in the least.

  “I should bring you down to keep me safe,” he growled.

  “Hide behind me? I'm shocked you need my help to defend your virtue, sir,” she said wickedly. “You'll be fine, sir,” she said soothingly. “Besides, someone has to stay behind and mind the ship.”