The Last Holidays

by Grover Young

  “Our team has had a number of successes,” Sheila implored, “Please let us continue.”

  While they mulled over her statement, I added what I hoped would close our argument.

  “Sirs,” I began, “the primary threat is in orbit. Threatening what we're doing won't help take that ship down, nor deal with their beachheads, nor their base on the Moon.”

  “That's true,” the Hammer spoke again, although he was officially just an observer. “They've knocked down our missiles. Our fighters have been shot down without getting close. What ships that we've cobbled together have been blasted to atoms, so do you have any suggestions, Sergeant Elder?” The Marine looked me in the eyes.

  It was easy to see how he got his reputation as a leader. His eyes dared me to go where nobody sane would ever consider going.

  “You have me, Sir.” I could only claim insanity. Maybe it was that half-formed idea that had begun while watching my team chow down on Soylent Blue in 'space' rations like tubes. “Halcyon has flight and our Skins are good as short term spacesuits. Their energy and missile weapons are ineffective against me. Give me the chance, sir, and I'll board the bastards!”

  “No,” Spoke Atlas, the senior Pantheon trooper at the table, “the Navy, and Air Force have had their shot. If it’s the Army and Marines turn, let's do it right. We pull the best people we got and hammer out a solid plan. Then, we go and kick their asses back to where they come from.”

  “I agree,” General Hobbs gave the grim grin that earned him his nickname, “but no more of this service or that nation trying to prove who has the biggest wazoo. We, planet Earth, put every damn thing we have on the table and take our damn world back!”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Sheila was more than mad at me.

  “That a lot desperate people were going to force us to screw up the one decent contact we have with the Sha'leians,” I sighed, “Telling them why it was a bad idea may or may not have worked. Giving them another option did, and just maybe the right man heard what we had to say.”

  “I'm with her,” my team leader said from behind us, “Pantheon has a reputation for being crazy, but you take it to an entirely new level. Are you really serious about boarding their ship?”

  “Yes,” I replied, “we have to, because, like one of our reports said, they probably have other groups on the way. The odds are there is at least another warship like theirs with them and we need the intelligence, as well as the ship itself to fight them.”

  “You're going to get yourself killed!” Sheila glared at me, “Didn't Asheville teach you anything? Do you have any idea of how much it hurts me to see you climb into that damn Electric Chair, knowing anyone else would be electrocuted?”

  “You should listen to her,” Athena advised, “As tough as you are, you're not Superman. You charged the guns and paid the price once, but you got lucky and lived. That won't happen again.”

  “That's why we won't be doing it that way,” Atlas stated joining the conversation, “We will plan this as a team and execute it as a team.”

  “Excuse me,” he apologized to Sheila, “but it is no secret we are losing this War. For us to have any chance of winning, of surviving, we have to be audacious.

  “Even if they don't intend on genocide,” he gave us all long stares, “I'm not going to stand by and let mankind become second class citizens on our own planet.”

  He then turned to Sheila.

  “I promise you that if there is any way possible, I will bring this idiot home.” It was then my turn to face his wrath, “Haven't you learned anything? Geez, never volunteer, you dummy!”

  Atlas walked away, leaving Athena chuckling in his wake.

  “Go on you two,” she commanded, “work this out. We're going to need both of you at your very best. No one knows the Tweeties like your Intel Group. If this has a chance of working, it’s going to need to address every single possibility and issue.”

  “Come on!” Sheila grabbed my arm, “We need some privacy.”

  I won't say our 'talk' was make-up sex, but it wasn't just talking either. It was hard to remember sometimes that she was a part of that 'Greatest Generation' thing that knew all too well about hardship and self-sacrifice. It wasn't quite the Spartan thing of 'Come back, with your shield or on it' but it was close.

  She'd lost her father to D-Day and an Uncle on the black sands of Iwo Jima. A cousin had fought on the frozen hills of Korea, and her late husband had been an 'adviser' in a faraway, unnamed jungle. A nephew had fallen in Desert Storm, and she'd lost a daughter and granddaughters during the bombardment of Pittsburgh.

  No, she knew all too well about sacrifice.

  We both got more than a little teary, but I think we made as much peace with each other as we could.

  Okay, maybe there was some sex involved.

  Our first planning session was more of a brawl than it was anything constructive. Yes, Atlas was with us, but the Army dug in its heels, saying they needed every Pantheon Team and more besides to defend Los Angeles.

  When we presented our choices for the strike teams, we got accused of headhunting the most effective members and destroying those teams' cohesiveness. That is despite a plan we presented to reorganize those teams affected to minimize any problems.

  The Air Force just about had a cow over us including every single one of their top secret Copperhead Space Fighters, which no one was supposed to even know about. If they were upset, the Navy had babies over not only their three remaining SSBNs with ballistic missiles being included, but of the eleven that had emptied their loads and were feverishly being refitted as chop-shop spacecraft.

  And if our country's military was having a problem, our 'allies' were worse.

  China

  “General, I realize that your country doesn't trust the United States, or for that matter any of the Western Powers. However, unless your 'candidates' can match or exceed the currently assigned troopers, they will not be included as part of the assault force.” Hammer Hobbs stared down the People's Army General.

  Russia

  “Admiral Rostok,” The UN representative sighed, “I can assure you that yes, every one of your space vessels will be needed and will be matched by an equal number, not just from NATO, but specifically from the United States.

  “Yes, that does include the five converted 'inactive' LA class SSNs that did not take place in the last engagement.”

  Assembly of African nations

  “We are well aware of the history of conflicts in this region,” the French diplomat stated, as the UN's General Secretary looked on, “However, for the good of not just your own countries, or the continent, but of the whole world, compromises must be made. The UN will guarantee that forces moving through your countries will abide by strict measures of conduct.

  “That also means that any forces that do misbehave will be levied fines and other possible actions,” he looked at all the delegates, “With the rich resources of the Congo providing materials for their factories, it will not take long before you are all threatened. Already Luanda, Libreville and other cities near to Brazzaville and Kinshasa are reporting Sha'leian scouting activity.

  “I urge you all to think well on the consequences of missing the deadline we've proposed. Thank you.”

  Assault Team Sparta

  I soared towards our target. Like skydivers, we held onto each others' arms and legs, forming a living snowflake floating in the darkness.

  Nott, named for the Norse goddess of the night, cloaked us in her darkness as she held my left arm and leg. Since no one could see through her darkness, I was the periscope that could see out, trusting to my absorption power to keep us safe from radar and their other sensors.

  On my right, was Weyland, code-named after the blacksmith also from Norse legends. Behind him rode Talos and Artemis, both named from Greek myths. The odd man out was our pint sized powerhouse, Bes, who got his name from Egyptian myths.

  Reaching the long dark shape was only part of the proble
m. We had to enter without breaching the hull or otherwise every single hatch would be sealed against the pressure on the other side. That was not the best way to begin what had to be a lightning quick assault.

  Weyland prepared to shift forward to take the lead, as my hands braked us against the hull. Releasing my ankle, he let himself be guided by his grip on my arm till I could reach his ankle. Our weightless gymnastics were not easy. All it took was one mistake and it all fell apart.

  We were all safety belted to each other, but things tended to end up in a wad from even one mistake. In the interest of speed, there could be no errors.

  With his hands free and me holding him steady by the legs, Weyland's power went to work on the lock. Metal was like clay under his touch. Using the compressed block of material bought with him, our metal-smith constructed an airlock as easily as someone else might snap open a folded bag.

  Like a folding accordion, the team contracted, pulling each other close so he could enclose us all within its protection. Attaching our airlock onto the objective, he equalized what we thought was the pressure on the other side so it matched.

  A nod confirmed we were all ready. He opened the lock.

  Everything went wrong.

  Unequal pressure sent our bubble of air squirting away to the surface while we swirled around the inside like mice stuck in a washer on spin cycle.

  Unhappily, we were all bobbing on the surface of NASA's astronaut training pool. The other two teams were observing and making notes as they waited for their own turns. NASA and Navy consultants were taking notes as they worked on making this even harder for us.

  “Well, that sucked,” said Talos, our Team leader and ex-Seal who specialized in boarding enemy vessels. His steel gray metallic skin was almost like mine, but unlike me, he was flesh and blood underneath, being rather like that Colossus character from the comic-books.

  “We need some way of checking the pressure on the other side of the lock.” Weyland's eyes were still crossed from taking the whole force of the blowout right in the face.

  “Yeah, but anything we use that breaches the lock door could give an alarm to their security systems and bridge,” Talos pointed out, “It'll have to be quick and fast.”

  “Which means it has to be easy to read so I can equalize the pressure as fast as I can,” Weyland added.

  “Turkey timer or meat thermometer,” I had flashbacks to helping Sheila cook Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, “You want something with a spike to punch through the door and yet keep a seal. On the end, you need some type of gauge or indicator showing the data you need.”

  “That sounds like it might do the job,” Weyland replied, “but I will have to use my power on the airlock's door to 'soften' a spot. If it's the same material their robots are constructed from, it's not going to puncture fast. That's tough stuff.”

  “Not a problem,” Artemis spoke up, “My talent will work on it.”

  Named after the Greek archer goddess, her power 'charged' items she could touch with extraordinary penetration traits. I'd seen her half bury a playing card in a block of steel. Unfortunately, the charge lasted only seconds, so firearms were out, although there was this rumor of her working with a belt fed machine-gun crew. If true, that would've let her do her thing right before the bullet was fired which was a frightening thought. On the other hand, all those bullets spraying all over the place, able to go though just about anything, was one hell of a hazard.

  Her weapon of choice was the bow, where her physical prowess made looking at her in action like something from an Elvish fantasy movie. Artemis's speed, accuracy and skill with not just the bow, but just about anything that she could pick up and throw, were downright amazing, which was why she was on the Team. We had the hand to hand stuff down pat with all the super strong talent. She provided our extremely accurate 'shooter', because no one wants any misses in an environment where a stray projectile could puncture the ship or cause something to explode.

  “We'll have to shift you forward, so you and Weyland can work together,” Talos nodded,

  “I'll get the tech-boys on it.” Commander Simmons, who’d been running this exercise from poolside, assured us, “Now get back to your starting point and try again. Be prepared for another kind of problem.”

  “Oh joy,” Nott muttered, sealing her helmet.

  I did my best not to think about my coming session in the Chair. 'Never ever volunteer', I reminded myself again.

  Joint Alien Warfare Intelligence Center

  “This looks like our best guess,” Dean breathed out heavily, as tired as the rest of us.

  I could well understand the feeling. We'd gone though every piece of fiction in Kzon's gift of his Sha'leian Library looking for clues to how their ships were laid out. It was complicated by our Christmas gifted tablets being keyed to us and us alone. No one else could use the damn things for more than three hours at a time and then needed the owner to 'unlock' it again.

  We had, of course, printed and sent out copies as well to get as many eyes on this as we could, but the tablets did have built-in resources no copy had. Not surprisingly, those resources, a very basic glossary and dictionary which would 'explain' certain words and terms when highlighted, weren't down-loadable nor could they be copied.

  Believe me, the Department of Defense Cyber-Warfare people really tried. When they failed to crack the operating system on our tablets, they called in every expert they could think of. Hackers, NSA and everyone in-between, did nothing, but beat their heads on their keyboards in frustration – unlike a certain old movie featuring alien invaders, where Jeff Goldblum hacked and virused their computer system. The Sha'leians took their cyber-security very seriously.

  That suggested we would be hopelessly stopped by any computer systems onboard their ship. It was a good thing we had plenty of brute force as well as our secret weapon.

  “We still have more reports to sort, but I think you're right,” Sheila agreed with him.

  Saying those stories that had been translated into English was pushing the definition. More than a few words were ciphers, and some of the passages were baffling. To help in the solving, we'd printed the hell out of what seemed like our best bets and then copied them some more to get as many eyes on this as we could.

  “One request we need to make is for an improved glossary!” I remarked, taking a moment to 'swallow' the energy from my torture device.

  “I would go further and suggest a Sha'leian cultural guide book in English,” Dean snorted.

  “Either one would've been nice,” Sheila sighed, “I don't think I've had such a hard time wrapping my head around so many new concepts since college, and that was a very long time ago.

  “Speaking of new concepts, how are we going to handle Valentine's Day?” Dean brought up a good point, “It's not exactly known for its parties, and from what we've read, their culture barely acknowledges romanticism at all.”

  “I got that too,” nodding my head in agreement, “Kind of reminded me of some of the Asian stuff I've read about duty and honor overriding anything as inconsequential as physical attraction.”

  “There's some European stuff like that, too,” My girl grimaced, “Can't say I much like it. At the least the Sha'leian literature is a glimpse into another culture, but I can't see it being a real big hit. Well, maybe with the Artsy Fartsy people, but never with the romance paperback crowd.”

  “How about you and Tamara?” she asked him, “Is there anything going on between you two?”

  “Not really,” Dean replied, a little dejectedly, “we've spent time together, but the majority of that was just work. There's some friendship there, but that's about it.”

  “The only ones with the romance thing going on with the group are you two.” His eyes showed just a hint of jealousy. Not I think from desiring her, but of having a close intimate relationship. However, that did give me an idea.

  “How about we have a 'couples' dinner?” I suggested, “Since you and Tamara are friends, you can
show our 'Out-of-Towners' what just a pair of friends do on Valentines. Sheila and I can then be the example of ...”

  “Lovers?” she interjected with a smile, not daring to come near while I was in the Chair.

  “Sure,” I couldn't keep my smile away.

  “Oh, we can get each other all those embarrassing intimate gifts!” Her eyes lit up, full of mischievousness.

  Even with being electrocuted, I blushed a deep red just thinking about the sort of things she talked me into altering my Skins into. Tash really had no idea of what he did with that gift to her. He created a monster; I tell you! However, I wasn't complaining.

  “Something like that,” I choked out, as Dean laughed at my discomfort.

  “We'll need to plan this out pretty carefully,” He chuckled, “There is a lot riding on this.”

  “I know,” Just the thought of how much depended on our Valentine's dinner, was frightening, “I know.”

  The Farm

  Now that the time was nearly upon us, all I felt was more like a tired thankfulness that soon, one way or the other, it would be all over. Training, planning sessions and then my electroshock therapy had pushed me to my limits.

  We could always use more time, but for the military, that was a quantity always in short supply. Trying to time so many operations that would be taking place so far apart was nearly impossible, given the state of things. That was why we had done our best to make all of them more effective if all went well, but not dependent on any others.

  Hammer Hobbs had pushed for the best commanders available and to hell with politics. In the time allotted, as much training as possible had taken place as could be managed. Bugs and problems had been found and addressed, if not fixed, but I was certain more would be discovered at the worst possible instant. That was the way of war. Murphy made sure of it!