Coming Home (Free Fleet Book 2)

by Michael Chatfield

  "Who are they? Have we had any communications with them?" he said, leaning forward in his chair.

  "They haven't contacted us the way the Defence Force has," a communications officer said.

  "Someone see if they can get contact with them and get me a line to the chiefs. We need to know what our response is going to be," he said as he sat back with hooded eyes. One day we'll be the ones dictating terms from orbit, he thought darkly as pictures on the main screen appeared and the chiefs of staff appeared.

  Five minutes later everyone that mattered was online.

  "What do you propose we do about this situation?" he said, his gaze focusing on the marine chief of the joint chiefs, who couldn't see the president was looking at him, but was furiously going through multiple plans that had been created after the arrival of the PDF and their stealing of the worlds youth.

  The chairman, a Marine, was put into power within the last year as the Marines were an amphibious fighting force. They where being trained to be able to operate in space, due to their ability to adapt to different environments. It wasn't any of the chiefs that responded but the director of the newly minted Intelligence Agency.

  "I believe we should attack during the confusion. These new forces are showing a disciplined front which scares me. If we attack them then even if we fail, we'll gain standing with the Defence Force," the former director of the CIA said in the same voice he probably ordered coffee or someone's assassination with. Quite the useful man, the president reflected as he patted himself on the back for combining the CIA, FBI, NSA, and all civilian intelligence departments into one uniform military organization. The military had gained back all of its power it had before and more. It controlled everything that happened in the United States.

  "What if they're here to help rather than hurt us?” One of the 'covert' analysts said, they were damned annoying but useful, their job was to second guess everything. They had been a new thing introduced by the President that had been elected into power as the last one had been 'too soft'.

  "We won't win without being decisive, we have an opportunity here.” The president surveyed the room, his eyes hard. More than one person looked away, it was hard to look into the eyes of the most powerful man on Earth. “We will attack,” he said, looking to the IA director who inclined his head as he did something off screen.

  "Yes, Mr. President," the analyst said.

  The president made a mental note to have the covert analysts replaced with people more… amenable with his thoughts, thinking of better ways to carry out his plans, instead of bringing them into constant question. He didn't want people to get in the way of making America the great country it had been before issues such as nuclear oversight committees and previous presidents helping other countries in aid had cropped up. Instead of making America stronger and armed with the weapons it needed to asserT it’s dominance. He would make America strong again, and he would do it with space superiority. "I suppose you want to begin this attack with the new Marines squads?"

  “Yes, Mr. President, I feel that would be best.” The covert analyst said.

  “General Stevens.” The president looked to the marine chairman with graying hair, where his regulation buzz cut allowed enough of it to be seen.

  “Sir, they'll be ready within the hour and in the sky for the ships." The president nodded. Let's see how you bastards like being attacked out of the blue. His face didn’t show any of his thoughts.

  "Good. Take everything you need to make sure your plan works."

  "If I may take my leave?"

  "Go." The president dismissed him with a wave, hitting the end call button for the man before he could salute. He loved salutes, but he wanted to put the hurt on these aliens more.

  ****

  Chairman General Audacious Stevens angrily dropped his hand as he was cut from the conference. He didn't know what the people of his great nation had been doing when they elected this power hungry and idiotic president.

  He had to tell himself he knew why. Hell, he had been in the same boat as them when the Recruitment had happened and collectors had dropped down, picking up twenty thousand people along the west coast of the United states, including a handful of Marines from Camp Pendelton, California. He had no idea where his people had gone in the universe as they'd departed fifteen months ago aboard the ships of this Defence Force.

  He knew the new presidents plans which he wanted to propose to the Defence Force--who weren't against force--as was apparent with the bombardments of most of Japan, Europe, an America as they'd retaliated for the Recruitment. No assistance had come afterwards when the planet had heated up from the Kinetic Energy Weapons, they worked on the same premise as the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. They caused dust and ash to cover they skies, ice caps melt and the water levels of the world to rise. America, which had been comfortable for too long, as well as other countries with populations near bodies of water had to weather the worst. Populations had gotten harder fast; they'd learned to deal with the chaotic and terrible weather. Most of them lived underground now, hiding from the world and the Defense Force who orbited their planet and whom they were powerless to touch.

  With the people powerless, this new president had come along, proposing to unite the people with grand plans for underground fields. A plan that was already in affect, he just planned to expand it. While at the same time expanding the military, and the parts of the military that had become infested with the civilian security departments turned military. They were loyal to gaining more power and to this new president. He knew that the military was directly under the presidents command and not truly connected to the Marines, Army, Navy, or Air Force.

  He hoped Captain Connolly was as ready as he didn’t feel.

  ***

  “Captain, we have a launch order from the president!”

  Connolly, who had been watching the events unfolding above Earth, now rushed out of the common room/command center of the Marines for Space Assault Force One.

  “Up you get, Marines! Into your suits and ready your weapons, we’re a go!” He rushed to his own Mecha, which had been dug from the wasteland that was Japan, where the master game creator of Mecha Assault had made a small army of the man operated machines. Combined with the armor and technology that had been spread across the globe by the missiles which had hit, collectors, and other ships, the bastardized suits they wore reminded the Captain of something out of a bad sci-fi movie where things where held together with tape. Well, the padding on the inside was; it was hell to ride them without. He had no idea how the Japanese had used them to attack and take down three collector ships. Hell, today he was expected to take down a space ship.

  His Marines readied themselves in minutes, showing his constant drilling had paid off as they used their Mechas considerable strength to get to their shuttles in seconds, running up catwalks and attaching themselves to the locking bolts and harnesses which would hold them in place while they where hurtling into space.

  “Houston, this is Roman Candle One, ready for launch,” Captain Tyler Smith said. Connolly grinned at his pilots antics.

  “Captain Smith, this is launch control, not Houston! You are known as Assault Ship One!”

  “Roman Candle acknowledges, Houston!”

  “Fine!” launch control said angrily as they accepted their new name of Houston, turning to deal with the rest of the pilots which had all thought of names for their rockets, varying from Rocket Ship Thing Three to Enterprise and I Am A Ballistic Missile. Everyone was ready. The massive bunker doors moved from above the ships as the engines warmed up.

  Houston counted down. At one the main engines fired as Connolly and his shuttle leapt into the sky.

  “We’re in the air, well, technically. Still getting out of this damned hole, ladies and gents,” Smith said a few second later. “Now we’re in the air. I would like to thank you for taking, this-is-the-worst-damn-ship-piece-of-crap-airlines today. Space is expected to be the cold annoying bitch that we’ve all
heard about. I hope you’ve all taken your rad medication to stop your bits being roasted to a tender crispiness by they sun. If you feel at all sick in this ride, for the love of god, swallow or well we aren’t taking these things back. So what am I saying: Throw up everywhere!” Smith said in an annoying happy tone as some of the Marines took his advice literally, pasting the shuttle. The lucky ones had their visors down and their air recyclers cranked up to max.

  The shuttle started shaking as Connolly thought that maybe his ship wasn’t going to make it out into space.

  “The vibration you’re feeling right now, a similar sensation to being a martini in a shaker. At least it isn’t stirred! Thank god the Brits got something right!” Connolly wanted to say something but his jaw was locked tight as he fought the pressure which seemed to come from everywhere. How Smith was talking was beyond him as the shaking stopped.

  “We’re in space. Moving to target,” Smith said in a somewhat disciplined voice as Connolly hoped he'd finally gotten on task.

  “Two minutes till link-up. Ship seems to be bigger than any of those in the vicinity, it’s holding in a regular pattern. My co-pilot has found an airlock, so we’re going to give it an old knock. Remember that we are in zero gravity, and it sounded like any sick bags we had have currently been used. Disengaging bolts, remove harnesses as needed.” I just hope he's as good piloting as he is cracking jokes, Connolly thought as he looked over his readouts. Four shuttles hadn't made it into space and had fallen back to Earth. Thankfully, they were able to set down in the Pacific Ocean, and collection was already under way. The rest were still on target, following behind Roman Candle One.

  “Ten seconds,” Smith said as a counter rolled down. Connolly and his men released their harnesses and orientated to the airlock, his lead team ready as the airlocks lights went green and they charged in.

  “Contact!” they yelled as he heard weapons fire.

  Chapter Busy Day

  I was on my first Wake Up as we orbited Earth. There was nothing I could do. I’d sent the people I could with the recovered shuttles to the station and I was still waiting for a call back from Henry if he wanted more forces for the Syndicate ships which where floating out of the system towards the sun, their engines dead. I was hoping their dead engines meant my Commandos were winning. I knew that Yasu was out on those ships too, but she’s was on her own, as much as I wished I was there instead of her. It was weird how a night spent talking—and other things—had brought us so much closer. I actually felt somewhat like a married man.

  I'd debated destroying the stations weaponry, but it didn't seem that it was needed as Henry and his Commandos were making short work of the station. We’d pasted the stations weaponry, not taking any chances with the whole of Earth at it’s mercy.

  “We have incoming missiles from the United States,” Marleen said. The main view screen changed to the missiles as they left secret silos around California.

  “Wait until they’re out of the atmosphere to shoot them down. I want to minimize as much damage to Earth as possible,” I said, moving back to overlooking everything that was happening around me.

  “Understood.”

  “I don't think they’re missiles,” Sensors said as Marleen looked to me for confirmation. I held up a finger as I checked sensors.

  I watched the missiles on screen and watched as their trajectory changed. Four of the missiles, which where duds, turned back towards Earth, fired thrusters, shot out parachutes, and landed in the Pacific Ocean, boats rushing to them.

  “Hold your fire!” I said as I watched the shuttles exit atmosphere and turn. They where wobbly compared to missiles I’d seen before.

  “Get me an optical on those missiles.” On my view screen I zoomed in on the front of the ship, and I saw two windows and two pilots sitting beside one another as they flicked switches.

  “Those are shuttles. Track where they’re going to land. I want squads along the airlocks on that side. I need comms with them as quickly as possible. Tell the teams to only stun. I don’t want any killing. Have a show of force and that should stop them.”

  “Salchar, I believe we need to think whether they have nuclear armaments on those ships. Earth might have become desperate and if they want to erase evidence, a nuke is a good way to do it,” Rick said.

  “Sensors, I want full scans of those ships. Tactical, track. If they’re carrying nukes, I want to know. Contact them to surrender if they do, and shoot them down if they come within ten kilometers.” The lull that had started at the discovery of the shuttles was gone.

  “The ships are cleared; they’re not carrying nukes.” I sighed relief. I looked at the plot of the battle happening on the main screen before checking the track of the Earth shuttles.

  “Rick, you have control. Contact me if I’m needed. I’ll go and say hey to boarders.”

  “Sir, and Henry?”

  “If he needs forces, give them to him.”

  “Gotcha.” He turned back to his work as I walked out.

  “Give them my regards,” he shot after me. I grinned and shook my head as my protection detail fell in around me. I checked my weapons and jogged down to the hangar bay where it seemed the first ship was coming in and, hopefully, the commander of this assault. I walked into the hangar as the airlock opened and soldiers rushed up and out of what was our relative down. They were wearing bastardized Mechas. I could see the first stumble, adjusting to the new gravity and tumbling over as they rolled on the deck, shooting at my closest AMC, which put three stun rounds in him before he could get more than two rounds off.

  The rest of the assaulting force used their hands to throw themselves up, coming down in a roll. They came out in a flood, being stunned after they got just a few rounds off. Finally, all of them where stunned on the ground. There were some lazy calls from my Mecha's for medics. All of them where used to wounds now and none of them were immediately life threatening.

  “There’s another shuttle inbound on that airlock.”

  “Thanks, Rick. Looks like our boys have it in had, but I have an idea.”

  ***

  It sounds like a slaughter, Connolly thought as his first men had gotten off a few rounds but it was less frequent, even with his men pouring out of his shuttle at an alarming rate.

  Great way to start humanities attempt to take back the stars. Led by Captain Connolly gritting his teeth, he moved next to the airlock. He rushed after them, learning from the first man as he threw himself up and rolled right toward a circle of Mechas, these ones with the marks of battle and looking as solid as rock. He watched as his rounds, even from his high powered rifle, glanced off of the Mechas before his own Mecha went stiff with an electronic overload and he watched as his people poured in, all of them being cut down mercilessly. He hoped they where all using the disabling rounds which had knocked him out.

  A Mecha strode into the room with a few others around him as well as a massive creature wearing what looked like a simple coverall. He strode through the Mechas as the last Marine made it aboard.

  The Mechas moved out of the way, pushing others out of respect of the new arrival that walked through them, like his men would for himself, but this was more than just respect for rank. He could see by the way all of them turned to the arrival and then snapped back to work. All of them moved to do different jobs as Connolly started to hear a heavy mechanical noise of something moving.

  A disabled shuttle came into view. Some Mechas moved to either side of the shuttle as Connolly felt a tug on his suit, and then he was in the air, stuck to the bottom of the shuttle’s pads. They’d used the shuttles gravitational fields or magnetic clamps to clean them all up. A group of Mechas pulled his men from their armor and Mechas kicking and screaming as they where quickly and deftly handcuffed or stunned again, dropping limply to the floor. Connolly watched as the second group came through the airlock. This time they didn’t even fire as they were pulled into the pads of the shuttle, stunned, and then sorted as Connolly's team was after ev
eryone had left the shuttle. Mechas ran into the shuttle, dragging out the pilots. Connolly saw Captain Smith was already cuffed behind him, for once not saying a word.

  “Alright, get these guys out of the way. Those of you assigned for relief, get a move on!”

  The leader that had walked through the other Mecha's yelled as more Mechas poured into the shuttle bay and moved on to further hangars as shuttles waited, ready to launch, and hangar doors sealed Connolly, his men, and the remaining Mechas in the hangar bay. Connolly didn't have much time to think on it as he was roughly pulled from his armor.

  “Fuck you, you alien piece of shit!” he said, spitting on the Mecha as he struggled against the strength that seemed impossible.

  “Damn, Frank, I thought Avar’s were violent; you humans are crazy! And the amount you spit!”

  “Hey! I don’t spit everywhere. I told you yesterday that was Bob that spit in the hangar. It's not like you Sarenmenti are any better at eating.” The man’s accent was clearly American. The aliens where making some damned scary translator tech, Connolly thought as the Sarenmenti made some comment about delicate salad chompers. They secured Connolly and then attached him to the posts in the floor the rest of his men were attached to. They weren't uncomfortable, but they were far enough away from one another that they couldn’t touch or talk without raising their voices.

  Whoever these aliens, were, they knew their shit. About a half hour later the section of wall that had closed opened and Connolly looked at the eight Earth shuttles that were now there, their crews being systematically searched. He made a rough head count and it looked like everyone was there, if not for some loud cursing, yelling and screaming, as well as spitting, kicking, punching, and biting in one case—he was going to need a damned good dentist.