Free Fleet Box Set 1

by Michael Chatfield

  “Who are they? Have we had any communications with them?” He leaned forward in his chair.

  “No contact yet,” 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 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 who mattered was online.

  “What do you propose we do about this situation?” His gaze focused on the Marine chief in their little assembly, 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.

  The chairman, a Marine, was put into power within the last year as the Marines were an amphibious fighting force. They were being trained to operate in space, due to their ability to adapt to different environments. It wasn’t any of the chiefs who 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, even if we fail, we’ll gain standing with the Defense Force,” the former director of the CIA said in the same voice he probably ordered coffee or someone’s assassination.

  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 the 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 inspiration, introduced by the president who had been elected into power as the last one had been deemed “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 looked 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 getting in the way of making America the great country it once was. Before the UN, NATO, nuclear oversight committees, and domestic aid to foreign countries, America had been strong. They had become weak trying to play peacekeeper and the current president had been seeing to arming America with the weapons necessary to assert its dominance. He would make America a great nation once more, and he would do it with space superiority. “I suppose you want to begin this attack with the new Marine 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 headed into the sky, directly 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 couldn’t fathom what the people of his great nation had been thinking when they’d elected this power hungry idiot of a 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 Pendleton, 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 Defense Force.

  He knew the president’s supposed proposal. The United States would look to keeping the people of Earth in line and they wouldn’t get bombarded, and they would be able to pick the people who were taken away by the PDF.

  When Japan had retaliated, the PDF simply sat in their orbiting ships and bombed the nation into nothing. With the forces attacking the PDF ships, they were throwaways; they were being sent to find out who the hell was up there and show how they were with the PDF by attacking these enemy ships that had shown up.

  They simply couldn’t go up against the PDF; they had all seen the damage that the kinetic strikes had done not only to Japan but the world. The planet heated up as dust and ash covered the sky. The ice caps had finally melted, and water levels around the world rose exponentially. Countries with populations near bodies of water were driven inland as weather the likes of which had never happened in recorded history battered the humans of Earth.

  Populations got hard fast, as they’d learned to cope with the chaotic and terrible weather. Most of them lived underground now, hiding from the world and the Defense Force who orbited their planet because they were powerless against them.

  With people feeling helpless, this new president came along, proposing to unite the people with grand plans for underground fields. A plan that was already in effect; he just planned to expand it. While at the same time expanding the military, especially the parts that had become infested with the civilian security departments, who turned military. They were loyal to gaining more power. Thus they clamored after this new president. He knew that the military was directly under the president’s command.

  ***

  “Give the order for launch.” The president’s eyes hardened as people seemed to pause for a second, understanding where this decision might take them before setting it into motion.

  ***

  “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. America had sent people to Japan in order to gather samples, taking Hachiro Ono’s plans where they could find them, and putting together the bastardized suits Connolly and his people wore. They reminded the captain of something out of a bad sci-fi movie, where things were held together with tape. Well, the padding on the inside was and it was hell to ride them without. He had no idea how the Japanese had used these to attack and take down three collector ships. Hell, today he was expected to take down a spaceship.

  His Marines readied themselves in minutes, showing his constant drilling had paid off. 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 that would hold them in place while they were hurtled into space.

  “Houston, this is Roman Candle One, ready for launch,” Captain Tyler Smith said.

  Connolly grinned at his pilot’s 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 who had all thought of names for their rockets, varying from Roc
ket 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 seconds 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 from being roasted to a tender crispiness by the 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, plastering the shuttle. The lucky ones had their visors down and their air recyclers cranked up to the max.

  The shuttle shook violently. It occurred to Connolly that perhaps his ship wasn’t going to make it out into space.

  “The vibration you’re feeling right now is perfectly normal, I’m sure. It’s similar to the sensation of being a martini in a shaker. At least it isn’t stirred! Thank God the Brits got something right!” Smith said easily, reading Connolly’s mind and simultaneously making a few people laugh.

  Connolly wanted to say something about professionalism, but his jaw was locked tight as he fought the pressure that 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 air lock, 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 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 air lock, his lead team ready as the air lock’s lights went green and they charged in.

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

  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 to see whether he wanted more forces for the Syndicate ships, which were floating out of the system toward 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 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 station’s weaponry, but it didn’t seem that it was needed as Henry and his Commandos were making short work of the station. We’d disabled the station’s weaponry, not taking any chances with the whole of Earth at its 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 moved 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 were duds, turned back toward Earth, fired thrusters, shot out parachutes, and landed in the Pacific Ocean. Boats rushed to them.

  “Hold your fire!” I watched the shuttles exit atmosphere and turn. They were 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 next to each other as they flicked switches.

  “Those are shuttles. Track where they’re going to land. I want squads along the air locks 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. That should stop them.”

  “Salchar, I believe we need to think about whether they have nuclear armaments on those ships. Earth might have become desperate and if they wanted 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 in 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 the 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 as well. I walked into the hangar as the air lock opened and soldiers rushed up and out of what was our floor. They wore 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 rolls. They came out in a flood, being stunned after they got just a few rounds off. Finally all of them were stunned on the ground. There were some lazy calls from my Mechas for medics. All of them were used to wounds by now and none of them were immediately life-threatening.

  “There’s another shuttle inbound on that air lock.”

  “Thanks, Rick. Looks like our boys have it in hand, 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 humanity’s attempt to take back the stars. Captain Connolly gritted his teeth and moved next to the air lock. 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 solid as a rock. He watched as his rounds, even from his high-powered rifle, glanced off their Mechas before his own went stiff from an electronic overload. He watched as his people poured in, all of them being cut down mercilessly. He hoped they were all using the disabling rounds that 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 away out of respect for the new arrival who walked through them, like his men would for himself. But this was more than just respect for rank. He could tell by the way all of them t
urned 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 shuttle’s gravitational fields or magnetic clamps to clean them all up. A group of Mechas pulled his men from their armor, kicking and screaming, as they were quickly and deftly handcuffed or stunned again, dropping limply to the floor. Connolly watched as the second group came through the air lock. 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 everyone had left the shuttle. Mechas ran into the shuttle and dragged out the pilots. Connolly saw Captain Smith was already cuffed behind him, for once not saying a word.

  “All right, get these guys out of the way. Those of you assigned for relief, get a move on!” the leader who had walked through the other Mechas yelled. More Mechas poured into the shuttle bay and moved on to farther hangars as shuttles waited, ready to launch.

  The 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 spat on the Mecha as he struggled against the strength that seemed impossible.

  “Damn, Frank, I thought Avarians were violent. You humans are crazy! And the amount you spit!”

  “Hey! I don’t spit everywhere. I told you yesterday that it was Bob who spit in the hangar. It’s not like you Sarenmenti are any better at eating.”

  The man’s accent was clearly American. The aliens were 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 with the rest of his men. They weren’t uncomfortable, but they were far enough away from one another that they couldn’t touch or talk without raising their voices.