The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by P. M. Johnson

  Linsky saw a few puffs of smoke from the League camp. Their artillery batteries were targeting the PRA camp and the column as it emerged from the protection of the hillside. PRA soldiers in the camp saw the puffs of smoke as well and ran for cover, but as the first shell approached it exploded in the air above the camp. Another did the same, as did the next dozen rounds. The explosions were quite loud, but the shells failed to reach the ground.

  Linsky smiled. The bargain he and Grand Guardian Harken had struck with the Sahiradin was already paying off. The shield dome they had given him would protect the PRA troops as they assembled their forces and prepared for the charge across the river. Linsky estimated they could fit ten to fifteen thousand troops plus artillery and tank support under the dome. The rest would remain behind the hill and out of League gun range, waiting for the order to attack. Of course, the PRA artillery could not return fire without lowering the shield, but being able to prepare without the threat of bombardment was enough.

  Linsky walked past PRA soldiers as they hurried to erect thousands of tents and establish supply depots, medical stations, chow halls and the myriad of other things necessary to organize a base camp for one hundred thousand soldiers. He carefully stepped around some muddy ground ripped up by tank treads and entered the command tent. General Vessey and his staff were reviewing the latest high-altitude images of League positions, which the Sahiradin had provided.

  “General Vessey,” said Colonel Linsky as he ignored staff officers and walked straight to the general. “I am Grand Guardian Harken’s special advisor, Colonel Alexander Linsky.” He saluted with his left hand.

  General Vessey, a stocky man in his fifties with a double chin and thick black hair, removed his black-framed reading glasses. “Ah, yes. Colonel Linsky,” he said unenthusiastically while casually returning the salute. “We received a communication informing us that you would be coming.”

  Linsky’s eyes wandered to the right and locked on to a number of view screens standing on a large rectangular table in the middle of the command tent. He tried to read the data and examine the images rolling across the screens, but General Vessey moved slightly toward Linsky, forcing him to take a step back away from the table.

  “How are things progressing?” asked the SPD officer, taking in the disapproving expressions on the faces of the general’s staff.

  “Just fine, Colonel,” said General Vessey. “But I must say it is unusual for there to be an SPD presence on the front lines. You and your colleagues normally do your work behind the lines after territory has been taken.” He smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded.

  Linsky stiffened and gave Vessey a thin, mirthless smile of his own. “Yes General. The SPD is responsible for securing newly acquired territory. As you know, just because the enemy’s defenses have been overcome does not mean the territory is secure. There are spies, malcontents, and the misinformed which must be dealt with. And because civilian authority has broken down after your troops have done their job, someone has to assume the responsibilities of the mayor, the police chief, the fire chief, and so on.”

  General Vessey wasn’t listening to the colonel, having returned his attention to the information in the view screens.

  Undaunted by the general’s lack of interest, Linsky spoke loudly and addressed everyone around the table. “The SPD takes on all of these challenges in order to cement your victories and to ensure there is a peaceful transition from violent enemy to ardent supporter.”

  “You talk a lot,” said Vessey, suddenly looking Linsky in the eye. “Grand Guardian Harken may have appointed you as some kind of advisor, but let’s be clear. I will not tolerate any interference with my command of the First Corp. We are an army and our mission is to destroy the adversary’s army, not round up women, children, or ‘the misinformed,’ as you put it.”

  Linsky narrowed his eyes and said, “You say you will not tolerate interference. I wonder what do you mean by that? Does interference include things like securing an antiballistic shield which is protecting this entire camp from enemy artillery?” He pointed his finger into the air, listening as several artillery rounds exploded overhead. “Does it include securing an alliance with the Sahiradin, a highly advanced and powerful species who will help us gain victory?”

  General Vessey took a step closer to Linsky until their faces were nearly touching, but this time Linsky did not step back. “This is not a political operation,” said the general through clenched teeth. “This is a military action and I have complete authority to prosecute the upcoming battle in the manner I see fit. Stay the hell away from me and my troops! And just for the record, I don’t trust this dome or the freak show aliens who gave it to you.”

  Vessey gave Linsky a slight push with his finger, forcing the SPD officer to step back.

  “But you should trust the Sahiradin, General Vessey,” responded Linsky with a smile, which he shared with everyone watching the exchange. Then he said in a loud voice, “The Sahiradin have been on Earth for many years, assisting us to develop advanced weapons that have saved soldiers’ lives. You’re familiar with the antiballistic shield and our high-performance aircraft, yes? We have them to thank for these and many more advances. They have shown their good will toward us time and again. Now it is time for us to show our support for them in their fight against an ancient enemy who seeks to annihilate them. They are honorable warriors. We are honorable warriors. We share common values and goals, and together we will secure victory over our enemies, here on Earth and elsewhere.”

  General Vessey’s face turned red with anger. “Colonel Linsky. I will not be lectured by you or any other SPD thug on the topic of honor. I have served in this nation’s army for thirty years, and my first duty has always been to protect the Republic. As for the Sahiradin, I will decide whether to cooperate with them.”

  The two men stared at each other for a moment. Linsky wore an impassive expression, but Vessey’s face was still red with anger.

  Then Linsky smiled and said, “I understand your position, General. But if you wish to continue to receive valuable battlefield intelligence,” Linsky pointed at the high-altitude surveillance images, “you will cooperate with me and the Sahiradin. They are providing substantial support which will save many of your soldiers’ lives. And if you cannot bring yourself to honor our bargain with the Sahiradin, I’m sure the Grand Guardian can find a duty for which you are better suited. How would you like to spend your remaining years below ground swinging a pick?”

  Linsky leaned close to the general and whispered, “No one is invulnerable. When was the last time you spoke to Guardian Castell?”

  Linsky paused to ensure his point was understood, then he looked at the faces of the other soldiers. “I am going now to report to Grand Guardian Harken on our progress, but I will be back in an hour and I expect to receive a thorough update on the status of our preparations and regular briefings thereafter.”

  He gave the general a casual salute, turned around, and exited the command tent.

  Chapter 80

  Major General Quince, a fifty-three-year-old bald man with a crooked boxer’s nose and ruddy complexion, stepped out of the Talon helicopter. Longmire was waiting for him at the edge of the landing space and saluted him as he approached. Quince returned his salute. They shook hands and walked together toward the command tent.

  “Well done, General,” said Quince as he scanned the camp and the ongoing preparations to resist the PRA assault. “You pushed the Dellians back across the river, blew the bridge, and I’m told you got a hold of this Apollo Stone I’ve been hearing about. Hell, you even got the Northrunners to pitch in. No one’s accomplished that in over fifty years of trying. Keep this up and you might get another star on your collar like mine.”

  “I can’t take credit for it, sir,” replied Longmire. “The troops were outstanding.”

  General Quince nodded his head. “You and your troops here have saved our bacon, I won’t lie. And it’s given us an opportunity to inflic
t further damage on the enemy as they cross the river. That’s why we decided to bring up two full divisions of the League’s Second Corp. That’s twenty thousand troops, plus armor and artillery. That’ll put you at about thirty-five thousand troops to their one hundred thousand, but the river and terrain will work to your advantage if you can get everything in place. The PRA is committed to executing a pincer maneuver, and to do that they’ll need to get the northern army cross the river ASAP.”

  “Yes sir,” said Longhorn, “but are we sure they’ll try to cross here?”

  Quince stopped and pulled out his field scanner. He looked at the PRA position on the east side of the river. “Well, it certainly looks like they’ve decided this is the spot. And that makes sense. If they go farther north the river widens and they’ll have to face tenacious Northrunner defenders well versed at repelling Dellian incursions. If they go south, they’ll have to contend with marshes and our fixed gun emplacements on the western side. That all adds up to one thing - they’ll try to cross right here.” He pointed his finger to the ground as he spoke.

  “Yes sir,” said Longmire. “That was our assessment too.”

  Quince nodded and said, “Still no sign of boats or bridge-building equipment?”

  “Not yet,” replied Longmire. “But they haven’t unpacked everything.”

  “Well, assume they’ve got some kind of plan to get across somewhere nearby. Be ready to move quickly.”

  “Will do, sir. What about the Sahiradin camp, sir?” asked Longmire. “If we’re facing off against the PRA’s First Corp, we can’t just leave them on that hill.”

  “Agreed,” said Quince. “That communication we intercepted about some kind of agreement between the Sahiradin and the PRA got everyone thinking that we’d better officially treat the Sahiradin as the enemy.”

  “Yes sir. But that shield over their camp is going to make it hard to take them out, though,” said Longmire. “Even if we find a way in, it’ll be hand to hand. And if it goes anything like our first engagement, we can expect a three-to-one casualty rate. And that’s an unacceptable outcome.”

  “Agreed,” said Quince. “Better find a different way to deal with them. And I can’t spare any more soldiers, so don’t bother asking.”

  “Yes sir,” said Longmire. “We were thinking of bunker busters. A few deep penetrating guided missiles fired into the steeper eastern side of the hill could cause the whole hill to collapse. In fact…”

  Longmire was interrupted by the pop-pop-pop of explosions high above them. Looking up, they saw hundreds of contrails streaming from the edges of large, rapidly descending craft. The ships were protected by V-wing fighters. The V-wings peeled away from the larger craft and headed back up where they engaged against pursuing Lycian fighters, and a dogfight quickly developed. Lycian and Sahiradin fighters fired energy pulse and guided projectile weapons at each other in a tangled confusion of swirling ships.

  Moments later, a group of the larger Sahiradin craft landed just west of the Sahiradin camp. They opened their massive payload doors and Sahiradin soldiers and heavy equipment quickly deployed to positions adjacent to the Sahiradin camp on the hill and stretching to the west.

  Then Quince and Longmire heard the sound of heavy engines behind them. They turned to see large Lycian troop transport ships landing a few hundred meters away. Their doors opened and various species composing the Lycian Alliance exited the ships. General Quince’s eyes widened with surprise as he watched the Lycian soldiers march to their predetermined positions. Behind them came a line of what appeared to be mechanized soldiers. Hundreds and hundreds of them. The machines assembled in a long three-deep line facing the newly arrived Sahiradin forces just a few kilometers to the north.

  A small group of Lycian allies walked toward Quince and Longmire.

  “Looks like things just got a lot more complicated,” said Longmire. “What’s the plan, sir?”

  Quince looked at him and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think there’s anything in the army’s playbook for this particular scenario. We’re going to have to wing it.”

  “Sir, we do have Consul Sawyer in our camp,” said Longmire.

  “Ah yes,” replied General Quince. “She pissed everybody off when she came up here against General McIntyre’s recommendation. Turns out we could use a politico up here after all.”

  “I’ll send for her,” said Longmire.

  “Do that,” said Quince as he smiled and turned toward the approaching delegation.

  Chapter 81

  The Lycian representative who spoke to Ravenwood was short, about as tall as Ravenwood’s chest, and her straight black hair reached her shoulders. Her diminutive stature and smooth tan skin gave Logan the impression she was very young, but her light brown eyes had something about them that said they had witnessed much. She had two companions. One of them was a slightly taller male with sandy brown hair, light-colored skin, and almond-shaped blue eyes. His face wore a pleasant expression. He periodically looked from face to face and smiled but said nothing.

  The other companion was enormous. He was over twice Ravenwood’s height with massive shoulders, muscular arms, and short but powerful legs. His skin was bumpy and grayish. His hair was black and his eyes were a bright green. Logan had seen them from a distance during the battle near the Blackhawk crash site, but seeing them up close made him uneasy. He knew that one swat of the alien’s massive hand would crush him like an insect.

  Ravenwood nodded periodically as the female Lycian representative spoke. Her language’s cadence reminded Logan of a birdsong mixed with occasional whirs and clicks. Ravenwood responded now and again, somewhat haltingly, but not in the same language as the Lycian. He spoke in a language that had elongated vowels and many sh, th, and oth sounds. Logan found both languages to be beautiful in their own way.

  “Well,” asked General Quince rather loudly. “What the hell is she saying?”

  Consul Sawyer shot Quince a sharp look and cautioned, “General. This is our first contact with an extremely advanced alien species. It is a pivotal moment in our history. Please be patient.”

  General Quince scoffed. “Our first contact with an advanced alien species happened two days ago when we went blade to blade with those albino bastards on that hill.” He pointed toward the north as he spoke.

  Sawyer didn’t take the bait. Instead, she softly replied, “Nevertheless, please be patient, general. We cannot assume these beings have the same attitude toward us.”

  General Quince was clearly not happy with her diplomatic, but somewhat condescending tone of voice.

  “Consul Sawyer,” he said. “I have one objective. That objective is to keep those PRA bastards on the other side of the Mississippi River. If we fail, we’ll have one hundred thousand regulars and five thousand Red Legs sweeping down to meet their friends at St. Louis, who I shouldn’t need to remind you have just launched a massive assault on that city. The defenders are already outnumbered three to one; they’d collapse under a flank attack.”

  Sawyer glared at Quince. “General Quince, I’m aware of the situation, but this discussion must be conducted with care,” she said in a slightly annoyed tone. Then she leaned close to the general and whispered, “In army speak, don’t turn this into a cluster fuck.”

  Quince was surprised but undeterred by her strong language. “Consul, we don’t have time to sit around jabbering. There is a very good chance our defenses at St. Louis will fail and we’ll all have to fall back to Deep Six. That withdrawal will be a hell of a lot harder if a hundred thousand PRA troops swoop down from the north and slam into our right flank. And now we’ve got an army of Sahiradin a few klicks to the north of us to contend with, so I’m sorry if I seem a little impatient to wrap up our little chat.”

  Sawyer was about to respond when Ravenwood cleared his throat. “I believe I have a good understanding of the situation.”

  “Finally. Please, enlighten us,” said General Quince, not trying to hide his irritation. “You can expla
in to us how you happen to speak their language later.”

  Ravenwood ignored the general’s challenge and said, “First, a little background. These three represent three of the seven allied species who belong to what they call the Lycian Alliance. The female is a Rahani, the taller male is a Brevian, and the large fellow is a Grensch. As I have previously stated, they have been fighting a centuries long war with the Sahiradin. The fighting has ravaged dozens of worlds, but neither side has been able to deal the other side a decisive blow.”

  “And why are they here?” asked Quince. “How did their war end up at our doorstep?”

  Ravenwood replied, “As suspected, the Sahiradin whom we captured was part of an expedition many years ago to resettle Earth, which the Sahiradin thought was an abandoned and long-forgotten colony.”

  “How long forgotten?” asked Sawyer.

  “I’m not quite sure,” answered Ravenwood. “Hundreds of thousands of years. Longer, perhaps. The records had been lost until the Sahiradin rediscovered them.”

  “Back to the war,” said the general. “We need to know what’s going on now, today, not thousands of years ago.”

  “Certainly,” said Ravenwood. “The Sahiradin ship that arrived here prior to Impact was damaged; apparently it had been attacked before shifting space. It managed to make the leap to our solar system, but it was crippled beyond repair. I believe they used what time and resources they had remaining to redirect asteroids toward Earth’s path, which led to the Impact years later.”

  “Did she tell you all that?” asked Consul Sawyer.

  “No, but I have little doubt of it,” replied Ravenwood. “At any rate, when that first Sahiradin ship exploded, Kurak, our Sahiradin prisoner, escaped and landed on the moon. His life-support systems were failing and he would have died, if his escape pod had not been recovered by American Apollo mission astronauts. The astronauts also recovered something called the Kaiytáva, which we call the Apollo Stone. It is the Apollo Stone which both the Sahiradin and the Lycians are after.”