XIV
“Operation Garlic Ass is a silly name for this operation,” Admiral Thrane said and Yaf, standing on the bridge of the Robin, nodded in agreement.
Simla was disappointed. “Does the name really matter?”
“Yes it does. What may seem amusing now will remain in the history books for hundreds, possibly thousands, of years to come, if God wills that we are successful in our endeavours. What will our descendants think of us if humanity’s finest hour is denigrated with such a nonsense?”
“I suppose you’re right,” the Princess pouted, “In which case I’ll leave the name entirely up to you.”
The Admiral was a singularly uncreative type and this stumped him for a moment. Finally a smidgen of inspiration struck. “That message you had spelled out on Halven, that was uplifting.”
“Old Earth Stands? A bit unwieldy.”
“Standfast,” Yaf contributed, “Operation Standfast.”
The Admiral thumped the console. “Capital. Operation Standfast, the very thing. Let’s bring it into play. Helmsman, how long till we’re in position.”
“Two minutes till we join the defensive sphere, then a little while for fine tuning.”
“A little while?” the Admiral harrumphed, “there’s accuracy for you.”
“The android barges?” Simla asked.
“Returning to Old Earth on schedule, ma’am,” the Navigator replied.
“And have our probes confirmed the size of the Riaz fleet?”
“Five thousand and smaller than the one we captured, so they’re not troop carriers.”
Simla smiled, everything was going according to plan.
The Riaz fleet came out of star-drive as they entered the solar system and aligned themselves with Old Earth. The Conquest Commander sent the following message to all ships.
‘Have entered the domain of the primitives. Do not allow any ship, no matter how small, to approach. Fire and destroy it at once. Will approach their home planet in formation and then encircle. Await my command to fire upon the surface. Again, I say, allow none to approach, be they but a mote of dust. Victory and conquest be ours.’
The sub-commander came to him with his report. A handful of ships, as useless as the ones they had previously encountered and destroyed, were in defensive orbit around the planet. Other than that there was nothing but space debris between the Imperial Fleet and their prey. The Conquest Commander, greatest of their warlords, tasted victory and vengeance against those who had dared to take a Riaz ship.
“They’re coming,” the Navigator said excitedly, “Dear God, they’re coming.”
“No invitation to surrender?” the Admiral asked.
“Not in their vocabulary, according to our researchers,” Simla replied.
Yaf was positioned at another monitor. “It’s as our analysis of their ship said,” he reported, “they don’t use force fields surrounding their ships to avoid collisions with micro meteorites. They just sweep space in the direction of travel with weak beams and transfer their aim to the sides when necessary.”
“But will our boys have time?” Simla asked.
“Depends how close they are, but those weak beams aren’t going to defend them against androids who are desperate to get to grips with them. Their thrusters will get them through, especially if they open fire on the ships’ beam ports the minute they come out of their asteroid shells.”
“A masterpiece of strategy,” the Admiral crowed, “If they won’t let us get close to them, we’ll let them come right into our midst.”
“But our ships must break orbit the minute the attack begins,” Simla insisted, “and our armored human troops must be on them minutes later. We need the diversion and our androids will need direction.”
Shap floated in space, coated in rock and space dust. All his systems were switched off for he had no need of heat or light or air. To all intents and purposes he was just another piece of space debris in an asteroid belt, to be swept aside and not inconvenience any passing ship.
But with his systems unpowered, Shap and his colleagues had no way of knowing that their enemies were approaching. So one tiny sensor had been allowed to remain alert, kept alive by a barely discernible trickle of electricity. It awaited one command, to be sent from Old Earth once the Riaz ships were in the centre of the asteroid belt that would be their downfall. Shap did not dream, he was not programmed to, but before he had shut down his systems he had, once again, exercised his sense of humor. He had painted, in the alien script of the Riaz, on his broad metallic chest, the legend which he hoped would throw terror into these strangers. It was a simple message which, translated, read ‘I’m back’.
Still the Riaz ships came, dropping out of star-drive and positioning themselves in the huge ranks they wanted in their push on this home-world of the primitives who challenged their authority. There was no fear or trepidation in any Riaz heart, it was not one of their traits. What had happened at Halven, where they had lost an entire ship’s crew to one mechanical being, was in the past. Now, they would fight differently, and their mighty weapons would blast their adversaries to dust.
“How are our troops?” Simla asked.
Yaf looked unworried. “They’re itching to get going, as expected. We’ve trained them the best we could considering none of them has real combat experience.”
“Estimated casualties?” Admiral Thrane asked.
“Low, if we’re successful, but they’re not really a factor. If we don’t take those Riaz ships we’ve lost because they’ll fall on Old earth like wolves.”
“We’ll be leaving some ships behind, they’ll put up a fight.”
“Not enough, Admiral, not nearly enough. In a fire fight our ships won’t last five minutes and that’s an official estimate.”
“May God look down kindly on his creation,” the Admiral intoned solemnly.
“And what God created the Riaz?” Yaf argued, only to be stopped by a bark from Simla. “Enough, we’ll argue theology some other time. The Riaz have entered the asteroid belt, bring your command to red alert, Admiral.”
Thrane didn’t like being ordered around on his own battle bridge, especially not by a slip of a girl, but he he’d come to know and respect this Princess. He knew she’d got him this shot at glory and he would listen to her. He put his hand on his Comm. Officer’s shoulder. “Send, ‘Admiral Thrane to the ships of the Old Earth Fleet. Power all engines and prepare for battle.’ That is all.”
Simla stepped to a closet and strapped herself into her suit of powered armor. She had made small adjustments so that it now truly fitted like glove. She had spent hours practising too and could manage every possible move her unencumbered body could manage. She snapped an energy gun to her thigh before turning to face Yaf who was similarly suited.
“Ready for war, lover?”
“Ready.”
She suddenly realised that her heart was racing.
The signal came and Shap came to life. He kicked away the debris that surrounded him and orientated himself with the transmission from Old Earth. A myriad of sensors fired information at him, but most importantly, his eyes alighted on the giant bulk of the Riaz ship, only a hundred metres away. He kicked in his thrusters at maximum and headed straight for it, while broadcasting to the hundred thousand other androids the message that the time had come. Around him other asteroids popped open and revealed their deadly contents.
The sub-commander turned to the Conquest Commander lolling on his couch. “Anomaly! Activity!” he announced.
“What manner? Precision.”
“Asteroid belt, is not. Mechanicals within. They come.”
The Conquest Commander sprang to his feet. “Mechanicals? Weapons to all! Prepare! Prepare!”
But his warning came too late, Shap had already reached the hull of one Riaz ship. He didn’t waste time searching for an airlock this time but punched through the hull and stepped aside as the air inside was sucked out into the vacuum. When that had passed he inserted h
is hands into the hole and ripped open the thin metal till he had room to enter the Riaz ship. The compartment he encountered was bare and obviously used for storage. He crouched down and waited, knowing that the advantage was his. Opening the hatch to the rest of the ship would allow the atmosphere to escape and the Riaz would want to avoid that. But Shap was already sealing the breach and when he exited the compartment it would be at his leisure. His orders were simple. Till the humans in their powered armor arrived he was to cause carnage. He tapped into the Riaz ship’s communications net. They were issuing weapons. There had been three breaches, two of his comrades were aboard! He transmitted to them, asking their situation, he might know nothing of strategy but it made sense to launch a concerted attack, but quickly, before the enemy had time to fully prepare.
“Flank speed!” Commander Thrane ordered and almost as one the ships of the human fleet broke orbit of Old Earth and headed towards their Riaz enemy. “Evasive maneuvers, incoming fire,” he added. The ships began weaving in intricate patterns and the odd shot from the Riaz went whistling into the void. Everything was going according to plan and the aliens had obviously been caught unawares.
The Admiral turned to Simla. “Please order your troops to their disembarkation points. We will be within range in two minutes and will open hatches in one. We will execute a pattern around the Riaz ships and discharge boarding parties as we pass.”
Simla keyed her transmitter and sent the command before joining Yaf in their rush to the hatch where they would be joining the fray. They arrived to find the hold already full of ranks of armoured soldiers. “Good luck and God bless you all, my brothers and sisters,” Simla broadcast to them all before taking her place in the ranks.
Fire from the Riaz ships was increasing as they realised what was afoot, but some ships weren’t firing at all. Shap and his metal friends were doing their work and causing havoc wherever they went. One over-enthusiastic android had reached his quarry’s engine room where he had no qualms about throwing himself into the fuel matrix. The ship exploded with a silent flash of light. ‘No!’ the Conquest Commander screamed to himself as he saw the ship disappear, ‘not Halven again.’
Simla looked around the serried ranks for Yaf, but the armoured suits had no transparent faceplate and carried no insignia. Even her influence had not been able to ensure that they would be on the same boarding party and she didn’t know when she’d see him again. She focussed on the task at hand. The humans’ job was simple but poorly defined. They were to coordinate the android attacks and bring the Riaz attack on Old Earth to a halt. But they had secondary orders to save as many ships as possible and capture Riaz if possible. These orders had come from those who still insisted that humans could have a dialogue with their invaders. It would put a strain on her troops, Simla knew, better to have told them to go out and simply kill the Riaz, but she saw the wisdom of saving Riaz ships for their own use and interrogating any prisoners for information. Beating this fleet might not mean that the Riaz threat was ended forever.
She heard the air disappear as the hold was depressurised and grabbed a handhold against the pull of the void. The hatches slowly swung open.
The jump-master hung out of the open hatch and announced, “First party ready.”
Six soldiers stepped forward and took their position by the hatch. Soon the hull of the alien ship appeared. They had approached it at right angles and Admiral Thrane was swinging it round now to bring it in line.
“First party away!” the jump-master ordered and the six armoured bodies launched themselves towards the Riaz ship. It was hard to see them at this speed but Simla was fairly sure she saw at least one clinging to the alien hull before the Robin wheeled away to seek out its next port of call.
The Robin accelerated and the jump-master shouted for the second party. This was it, Simla moved towards the hatch with five other soldiers. A quick check of her read-outs confirmed that her suit was operating normally. She was ready. The Robin came head-on to the next alien ship like some cosmic game of chicken. The Admiral held his nerve and flicked his little ship a fraction to starboard at the very last minute.
“Second party away!”
Simla, second in the queue, braced and jumped. She sailed through the space and the hull of the alien ship came up on her surprisingly quickly. She pushed out her feet to absorb the impact and switched on the magnetic plates that would hold her to the hull. The man ahead of her wasn’t as quick and bounced off the hull and spun off into space. Simla prayed that he would be picked up by one of the other ships, already his distress signal was blaring in his ears, but there was nothing she could do for him. Her last companion had left it too late with his jump and missed the Riaz ship completely and he too spun off. They had practised this maneuver only twice and Simla had known there would be mistakes, but to lost two so quickly was unexpected. She looked around and confirmed that the other three of her squad were attached to the hull. “Let’s blow it,” she ordered, detaching a pack of shaped explosives from her belt and clamping it to the hull. She set the timer and retreated. Seconds later a man sized hole had been blown in the hull, but where Simla had expected a rush of air as the cabin depressurised, there was an outpouring of water which tried to freeze and block the gap. The pressure behind was too great however and the ice patch burst and reformed, burst and reformed, each time venting hundreds of gallons of water into space.
“Trust me to try and go in through their water supply,” she announced to her squad and imagined their grinned response.
“Is that you, Princess Simla?” a voice in her ear asked and her spirits rose.
“Yaf?”
“Tore Floj of Pendor, ma’am, glad to have you with us.”
She cursed her naïve desire, fooled by a Pendoran accent. “My pleasure, Tore. How about you guys blow some more holes in the hull to keep them confused? I don’t know how long we’ll have to wait till their water tanks empty, so we might as well keep busy.”
They spread out and began laying charges. One, too close, was blown off the hull by the depressurisation and Simla’s squad was depleted again. She cursed her luck. “Get sharp, kids, we’re down to half strength and we’re not even in yet.”
There was no pressure behind the ice shell that had now formed over the opening she made. “To me,” she ordered, kicking in the ice and her two companions bounced over to her. The tank was in darkness and Simla ordered them to switch on their helmet lights and unhitch their guns. With their hearts in their mouths they entered the alien ship.
XV
Simla sent out a signal to try and locate the androids who should have already boarded this ship, but no confirmation bounced back to her. That was worrying, she needed the sheer brawn of the machines if she was to achieve her objective. Her comrades hesitated, looking to her for leadership and she suddenly felt very small and stupid. She was no soldier, she knew that, but then again neither were they; they were probably a salesman and a dentist, but dedicated to saving their mother planet. She had to find the strength to lead them.
“We’ll stick together and head for the bridge. I’ll take point.”
She located the direction of flow of the conduits that ran through the ship and, taking her gun, burned through the bulkhead. Light flooded in from the adjoining corridor. She stuck her head through the opening and glanced to left and right. It was clear. She scrambled through and squatted defensively as the others clambered after her.
“To the right and keep your eyes open.”
They set off down the corridor which ran for almost fifty yards before reaching a T junction.
“I’m getting life-signs,” one of her comrades announced and Simla glanced down at her read-out to confirm that there were several aliens lying in ambush around the next corridor.
She took a deep breath and said, “Here we go,” before rolling to the ground and round the corner with her gun blazing. Alien fire whizzed by her. One of her shots caught one of the Riaz, sniping from behind a piece of machinery,
in the shoulder and it staggered into retreat, while Simla’s companions came charging round the corner and created a wall of fire behind which they advanced. A shot caught Simla in the midriff but the armor did its job and the destructive energy was absorbed. The Riaz were breaking and running for better cover. All except one, who seemed set on obeying her ancient instincts and coming to blows with her foes. With the humans mere feet from her and realising that her weapons fire was futile, she cast aside her gun and, claws waving, charged her smaller opponents.
Her fellow warriors went low and Simla leapt over the Riaz, twisting in mid–air so that she landed directly behind it. She grabbed it round the neck while the assault on its lower limbs brought it crashing to the floor. Simla punched it several times on its head while the smaller of her companions took metal-reinforced cord from her backpack and began trussing up its flailing limbs. At last, they had a prisoner. They left the Riaz, trying to move, and moved on. Twenty yards further on they found a large hatch that led to the forward part of the ship. Simla thumbed a code and the hatch swung open. Beyond it was another corridor, shorter than the previous one and dimly lit. At the end of it stood one of their androids, posed in mid-step and seemingly frozen. The sight unsettled Simla but as there were none of the enemy in view she and her companions rushed in, following their instinct to aid one of their own. Within seconds they found themselves walking in treacle and their suits started to weigh heavy on them.
“Back! Back!” Simla screamed, “It’s an energy vacuum, it’s sucking our suits dry!”
But it was too late, they were stuck. Simla tried everything she could think of, but the fact was that all the energy in their suits had been drained by the vacuum and that explained why the android was posed so unnaturally. It’s sheer strength had carried it further than them, but eventually it too had been stopped in its tracks.
Sex, the Stars & Princess Simla Page 15