Target: Earth (Extinction Wars Book 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Then, the alien vessels reached the Moon, bombarding the surface with raw energies, creating gouges of damage to deep, hardened silos.

  Who were these aliens? Where had they acquired such devastating technologies? Could the Defense Fleet stop them?

  A static-laced message blared from the bridge speaker. “Concentrate against the lead enemy vessel,” Admiral Harold ordered. “We have to at least kill one of the alien ships.”

  The surviving fighters, the few remaining lunar laser batteries and the last of Harold’s battlejumpers concentrated on the forward alien ship.

  Before anything else happened, another of Harold’s vessels simply blew apart, spewing water vapor, shards of ship materials and twisting crewmembers into space.

  Then, the concentrated fire caused damage to the lead enemy ship. The readings—

  N7 looked up at the main screen. Moon-based heavy lasers clawed past torn alien hull armor. That should—

  The alien vessel went nova as fantastic energies exploded outward in a growing circle like a stone causing a ripple ring in a lake. The lethal destruction reached the nearest battlejumpers. Force fields vanished, and hull armor crumpled like tinfoil. Engines ignited as new explosions added to the alien frenzy.

  “Sir,” a sensor officer said to N7.

  “I have noted the situation,” the android said.

  N7 knew the officer referred to the alien self-destruction wave. It had also harmed the remaining two enemy vessels following behind.

  Why did the aliens insist their vessels explode with such annihilating force if they had taken too much battle damage?

  N7 shrugged off the question for analysis later as his squadron closed with the terrible enemy.

  The android had learned his trade from the legendary Commander Creed. N7 employed some of those cunning tactics and other tricks learned through countless military campaigns since. None of that mattered today, at least not enough to stop the enemy vessels. Yes, he destroyed one of the two remaining cruiser-class ships, and it self-destructed just as the first one had.

  The titanic wave-blast destroyed two of N7’s battlejumpers.

  The last alien ship concentrated its hellish particle beams on his flagship. The ensuing explosion ripped apart the battlejumper, but not before N7 had donned space armor.

  Due to vicious hull ruptures that sent the ship’s interior atmosphere howling into space, the android shot through the crumpling vessel, tumbling end over end as heat and radiation washed over him. It hurt like blazes, but he survived the flagship’s death.

  Afterward, while spinning in the void, N7 had a catbird seat, as an ancient saying went, while the final battle against the alien ship took place.

  The exotic vessel shot toward Earth with single-minded ferocity. At a near-orbital distance, the alien launched a frightful bombardment from its underbelly. The munitions screamed through the atmosphere and detonated in a frightful blast, causing an entire continent to shudder.

  The bombardment cost the alien vessel, however, as Earth-based fighters roared from orbital launch points, swarming the extraterrestrial warship, hammering it with everything they had.

  It went critical and exploded, and with its last wave-like detonation, it took out over two hundred and ninety space fighters.

  At that point, the fight was over, but the suffering had just begun.

  Over a million kilometers away, N7 was alive in his suit, after a fashion, but he had no way of contacting anyone. The blast and radiation had demolished his helmet radio.

  Since he was an android, he shut down just before the air-tanks went empty. How long could he survive in the vacuum, though? Would anyone find him before Earth’s gravity pulled him in and burned him up like a meteor?

  -13-

  After taking care of N7, I exited the GEV in my flitter, heading down into Earth’s atmosphere. Soon, I raced over the Rocky Mountains in the former state of Colorado. The Day, decades ago, had ended America, Russia, England, all the old nations.

  Over ten years ago, we’d had to restock Earth after cleaning up the toxic agents. Luckily, all things considered, the kidnappers of the Jelk Corporation had also stolen many Earth plants and animals, bringing them to alien planets. We’d gone to those places, picking up seeds and animals, replanting and restocking our home world.

  The Rockies looked whole again, a vast woodland wilderness. But what if the latest aliens—most likely Plutonians—had bombarded North America instead of South? All this would be dead again just like what happened on The Day.

  I was going to find these Plutonians. Then, they were going to learn why the rest of the universe called us the little killers.

  Despite my rage, I obeyed the Earth Defense protocols, moving through a pre-selected air-route. By the orders given by Earth Control, it seemed clear that no one really believed that I’d returned from the Galactic Core.

  That was okay. I hardly believed it myself. It was taking getting used to seeing the small number of stars visible in space out here. In the galaxy core, stars glittered everywhere you looked. It was crazy beautiful, like viewing a million shining gems at once.

  I banked the flitter, taking it lower, heading toward New Denver. That was the Earth’s capital, or where Diana the Amazon Queen was presently holding court. It turned out she’d held onto power all this time. What’s more, she had ruled autocratically since the Battle of Altair.

  From my study of human history, strong-armed rule seemed the most natural to the human psyche. We liked kings and queens—and we liked grumbling about them even more.

  A ping from the controls told me I was under radar lock. That was fine, as I didn’t think they’d fire.

  I’d taken the Galactic Core equipment out of the flitter before launching. On all accounts, the Curator would not want humans getting hold of any tech higher than a Civilizational 6C Category. I was going to do my best to make sure I kept as many of the Curator’s dictates as possible.

  Besides, I had an Effectuator plan up my sleeve. After watching N7’s memories, I’d listened to Earth communications for a time, getting a picture of what was going on down there. Down here, I mean.

  Before leaving the GEV, I’d debated long and hard and had finally reprogrammed N7. Normally, previously, I would never have done that, but eight years of effectuating had left their mark on me.

  I would likely need backup for my plan to work. I had to have someone I could trust, and I couldn’t think of anyone better than N7, especially after the modifications to his brain core.

  Soon, I landed in New Denver spaceport and walked out onto the tarmac to meet a herd of siren-wailing military hovers. The hovers grounded twenty feet from me, and armored marines spilled out of them. Every one of them aimed a pulse rifle at my chest.

  A larger than average armor suit clomped toward me. I half expected Rollo to whirr down the visor. Instead, a hard-eyed man with green eyes stared at me.

  “You don’t look like Commander Creed,” he finally said.

  I don’t know why he’d said that. I’d shaved the beard and the shaggy mustache, and I’d clipped my hair as best I could—and I didn’t believe I’d aged much the past ten years. Maybe I was the legend to him, and someone in the flesh could never seem as grand as the heroic person of imagination.

  “Should I know you?” I asked.

  “I was an assault trooper once,” he said. “These days, I’m General Briggs of the Terran Defense Force.”

  “That’s why you’re so big?”

  He nodded. “Jelk Corporation thugs injected me with steroid 68 and inserted neural fibers in my muscles. I was with Commander Creed when we went to the Karg dimension in a Lokhar dreadnaught.”

  I gave General Briggs a careful scrutiny.

  “No, you weren’t,” I said. “I’d remember your ugly mug if you’d gone. Not many assault troopers survived the portal planet.”

  The general’s eyes narrowed as he studied me.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If you strip off
that tin-can of a suit, I’ll beat the living crap out of you. That will prove you’re no assault trooper.”

  “Hmm…” Briggs said. “Creed was arrogant.”

  “If you were an assault trooper, you’d be wearing the combat skin instead of the tin can.”

  “Okay,” Briggs said. “Whoever you are, you’re well briefed. I’ll give you that. Now, hands up. We have to search you.”

  I did as requested.

  Briggs motioned to a pair of MPs in regular dress. They searched me, and they didn’t find anything interesting. They did take my .44 Magnum. I’d brought it along for old time’s sake, and as a piece of authenticity.

  “This could be the commander’s old revolver,” an MP told Briggs.

  “Which means he might have killed the real Commander Creed,” Briggs said. The general turned to me. “All right, get in the hover. We’re taking you to interrogation.”

  “Take some x-rays of me first to make sure I’m not carrying a bomb in my body. Then take me to Diana. She’ll know it’s me. In case you don’t realize it yet, Earth is running out of time.”

  “Get in the hover,” Briggs growled. “In case you don’t realize it yet, we’re running the show here, not you.”

  I eyed him before shrugging and headed for the hover he’d indicated.

  -14-

  The interrogation took five hours of relentless questions by a small man with a humped back. He was Police Proconsul Ike Spencer. The man had a neat little mustache and plastic seeming eyes like a shark.

  While under my Effectuator AI-brain-probe, N7 had shown more emotion than this Ike Spencer did.

  Finally, the Police Proconsul sat back. “I’m sorry,” he said in a voice that indicated he wasn’t sorry at all.

  I raised my eyebrows, wondering what kind of crap he was going to pull now. So far, I’d kept my temper in check. Now, I felt it slipping.

  Before I could tell him exactly what I thought about his techniques, he said, “I’m sorry. You are definitely Commander Creed. There’s no doubt about it.”

  “Then, why are you sorry?”

  The Police Proconsul grunted as he stood. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m afraid.”

  A hatch slid up behind me.

  “It’s Creed,” Spencer said. “Tell the Prime Minister there’s absolutely no doubt about it.”

  Clearly, the Police Proconsul wanted to keep something secret. I had a good idea what it was, but played dumb because of my plan.

  An honor guard of suited marines entered the room.

  “They’ll take you to the Prime Minister,” Spencer told me. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  “Wonderful,” I said.

  The small Police Proconsul eyed me anew. “I haven’t detected any advanced equipment on your person. That would belie your story about becoming a Galactic Effectuator.”

  “I haven’t said anything about that.” I said, in case the Curator had just started watching from his special viewing room in the Fortress of Light.

  “I’m well aware you haven’t,” Spencer said. “But you told Ella about it at Saint Petersburg ten years ago. Do you remember the incident?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “Ella left before the…” I trailed off. Had Ella spied on me that day? It was hard to fathom. How had the Police Proconsul come to learn about my occupation otherwise? He was trying to trick me into giving away secret knowledge.

  Obviously, he knew about the Curator. Ten years ago, the assault troopers had gone all over the galaxy in the Curator’s teleporting Moon-ship. The others must have told stories afterward, but none of them had learned as much as I had during that time.

  “Yes?” Spencer asked me.

  “Nice try,” I told him.

  “You do not seem to understand the situation,” he said. “The Prime Minister is under siege from many sides. She’s guided Earth through these perilous times. We need her.”

  “I don’t disagree with that.”

  “I am not a modest man, Commander—”

  “It’s just Creed these days,” I said, interrupting.

  Spencer nodded. “As you will. Neither of us is modest. Thus, I wish to tell you that I am one of the key reasons the Prime Minister has retained power against all comers.”

  “Oh?”

  “Some say that Earth has become a police state. There might be some truth to that.”

  “Because of you?” I asked.

  “Like you, Commander—Creed—I wish to see the human race survive. We won’t if we’re divided against ourselves.”

  “Okay…”

  “The Prime Minister needs your help. Remember that, please.”

  “What are you trying to hint at?” I asked.

  “She has hard decisions to make. With the last attack from out of the blue— Well. We can’t afford to let the Lokhar Empire use our sudden weakness against us. There are many alien races that would like to see humanity eliminated.”

  “That’s why I’m here, to help stop that.”

  Spencer eyed me anew and then nodded to the marine guards. “I shall see you in a few minutes. Please keep in mind that we are under a heavy burden. This latest attack is the last straw.”

  I turned to the marines. “Let’s go. I’m tired of his pussyfooting.”

  “I’m sorry,” Spencer said to my back.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You already told me. Come on,” I told the marines. “Time’s a-wasting.”

  -15-

  Prime Minster Diana of Earth and the Terran Confederation of Liberated Planets had come a long way up in the world. Once, she’d ruled an alien freighter grounded on Earth’s toxified surface, ruling through tough henchmen, a razor-sharp mind and a willingness for brutal decisions.

  I doubted much had changed since then.

  Despite the passage of time, Diana was still a tall woman, with wider hips than before, startlingly magnificent breasts and well-kept handsome features. She had long dark hair, maybe even more luxurious than before. She wore a long dress with a low-cut front to reveal much of her charms. She also wore glittering jewelry. There had always been a seductive way to her, especially her voice.

  She used to liken herself to Diana the Huntress of Roman myths. The Greek name of the goddess had been Artemis, the sister to Apollo.

  Personally, I would amend the analogy. I think Diana was more like the legendary Cleopatra of Egypt, the lady that had seduced Julius Caesar and later Mark Antony. Both women used their feminine charms and wiles to climb the ladder of power. Each possessed a razor intellect and a tough streak to do just about anything in order to keep power.

  The marine guards ushered me into a spacious chamber with various maps on large tables. Room-sized statues stood around the high-domed chamber. They looked like old Greek statues, some of them missing arms.

  More than anything, the chamber reminded me of pictures of Imperial England in the days of Queen Victoria. There was even a throne toward the back of the room, with a semi-circle of curule chairs facing the throne. I had no doubt that’s where Diana sat during discussions or pronouncements.

  Diana looked up from a map as the marines marched me toward her.

  Several tough-looking guards were in various spots throughout the chamber. They were big men in red suits, again, akin to Imperial British guardsmen. I noticed that each of the guards had modern hand-weapons on his person.

  General Briggs stood with Diana, wearing a tan army uniform. He was a large man, but Diana stood a little taller.

  There was one other person with them, a petite woman with short blonde hair, wearing a long gown and less jewelry than Diana had. The petite woman struck me as the Prime Minister’s personal secretary. She noticed me first, or looked up first and smiled.

  It was dazzling enough to cause a stir in me. I didn’t recognize her, but I knew the up and down look that she gave me.

  The petite, possibly sexually hungry secretary nudged Diana.

  Diana had to have noticed our entry. But she looked up now as i
f surprised. Her gaze went straight to me, locking tight and seemingly searching my soul.

  “Creed,” she breathed in her seductive way.

  I found myself blinking, having forgotten the depth of strength to the Amazon Queen’s particular power.

  “Diana,” I said, grinning with delight as I approached.

  Diana held up her right hand, palm forward.

  The marines halted, forcing me to halt.

  “Wait by the door,” she told them.

  The marines turned around smartly, without hesitation, marching to the double doors, taking up station there and standing at attention.

  As they moved away, the members of the red-suited security detail moved closer to Diana. She hardly seemed aware of them.

  As an Effectuator, I was always aware of such details.

  “Creed,” Diana said again, beckoning me nearer.

  It would never be her way to rush up to greet me with a warm hug. That wasn’t how the most powerful woman on Earth should act, and she knew that.

  I marched toward her, keeping my grin and cataloging the various reactions, hers and others, particularly the security detail. They watched me closely as if ready to draw and fire. They also watched Briggs like that, which I found telling.

  Instead of embracing like old friends, Diana reached out and grabbed my hands. She held me at arms-length, studying me the way a mother might her son.

  “Creed, Creed, Creed,” she said. “You pick an odd time to show up again.”

  I shrugged.

  “Come,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

  She pulled me to the map table where General Briggs and the petite secretary stood.

  “You’ve met the general,” Diana said.

  I nodded to him. Briggs gave a stiff nod back.

  “Now—”

  “I’m Creed,” I said to the secretary.

  She gave me another dazzling smile with plenty of teeth and promise in her eyes.