by Chris Hechtl
“What do you want?”
“A fresh tuna fish and bacon sandwich spiced with catnip would be nice. Barring that, your head on a platter or more importantly, your surrender. I'm following protocol to give you this one chance to spare the lives of your people, General. Please consider it carefully. I won't give you a second opportunity.”
“Fuck you and fuck off,” the general snarled. “We'll never surrender to the likes of you!” There was a loud click.
“He's disconnected the circuit, sir,” the comm rating said.
“Well, that's protocol followed, I suppose. You can't say we didn't try,” the captain said mildly. The XO nodded. “Fuck off,” he murmured. “How … quaint I suppose. Rude though to not invite a guest to dinner.”
“If it's just the same, Skipper, I'd rather stay up here where they can't hit back,” Chubs said dryly.
The captain eyed him in sardonic humor. “Not very sporting, but I suppose you are right. It is nice to be on the dishing-out side instead of the receiving I suppose. Zeus program loaded?” he asked. The ATO nodded as did the TACO. “Then initiate, Guns, and send them our answer,” the captain said, settling himself.
“Our turn now, you bastards,” the TACO said as she keyed the firing sequence.
The two ships puffed rounds out in rapid succession. Those rounds were unguided but moving at incredible speed for their small size. Their carbon tungsten bodies seemed to shed the plasma from reentry with ease as they hammered through the atmosphere with grim purpose.
<)>^<)>/
General Drier's driver floored it through the base at the jeep's maximum speed. He zigzagged around the obstructions protecting the base's main entrance, then plowed through pedestrians in the way. The General urged him to keep going faster as he and the sergeant hung on for dear life. There was no time to buckle up, and with the truck's antics, they couldn't take their hands off whatever handholds they could grab in order to buckle in.
They managed to put a hill between them and the base when lightning brightened the sky behind them. The driver cried out and covered his eyes from the bright flash in the mirror. The general lashed out to grab the wheel to steady it. He realized what was coming so he pulled over behind a berm just in time for the blast wave of wind and heat rushed over the area.
Their screams of pain and anger were drowned out by the howling winds.
<)>^<)>/
Captain Zhukov finished listening to the exchange with a grim face. Sergeant Scornlan saw that face and knew things didn't bode well for them. “I think we need to suit up. Like now,” the captain said as he waved to everyone. “Get suited up now!” he barked. “Get everyone inside! Move! And close the doors and air vents!”
“It's going to get stuffy, sir,” someone whined, but then shut up when they saw the set expression on the captain's face as he strode through the corridor to the armory morgue. Lieutenant Zevaya and Sergeant Scornlan were hot on his heels.
<)>^<)>/
Straightline bright thunderbolts racked the heavens to slam into the ground in the exact center of each Horathian military facility. The rounds carried the equivalent of a one-megaton bomb. Their impact energy tore everything apart for kilometers around.
The tactical departments had targeted facilities far from the population centers or concentration camps. Vehicle parks, bases, training and recruiting stations, spaceports were all obliterated in a wave of destruction that crisscrossed around the planet until the ships ran out of ammunition or targets.
It was the definition of a textbook hit and hype. Chester Puller's team couldn't come fast enough the captain thought darkly as the division broke orbit at last. There was nothing left in orbit and craters on the ground where the main concentrations of Horathians had once been. It would help, but also hinder the marines once they got there. After all, the enemy now knew they were there.
“We'll be back, you bastards,” the captain murmured, eyes slits as they watched the ball recede. “And we'll be bringing friends. Marines to dig you out; you just wait and see,” he said ever so softly. “Justice will be served.”
<)>^<)>/
Captain Zhukov received the alert and then the evac order a few seconds before all hell broke loose. His entire platoon had been inside the cave he'd carefully chosen more out of aesthetics than serious orbital protection. If he'd wanted security, he would have stayed in the center of the main base. But he'd wanted something else; he'd wanted the mystique … as well as to be away from the HQ, which would be a natural target for anyone who might come calling.
And, to be honest, he'd wanted the security of the cavern walls and stone overhead. The main base had wood and brick structures that just bothered the hell out of him.
Fortunately, General Drier had humored his request and allowed them to set up shop in the cave. He'd taken over their old site and used it for a proper armory for his troop. The general had insisted they control the drones from the site and so they'd received a satellite dish network and antenna farm on a nearby hillside a few weeks ago. Captain Zhukov hadn't minded at the time; he had skimmed enough ammunition, MREs, and other material for his troops and tucked it away in the cave and in supply caches his people had hidden all over the planet.
He saw his suit open up as he sent the key and strode through the bustling morgue. Each trooper had a black, red, or purple armor. Most were black. Everyone had some sort of skull adorning their suit, usually as a face mask. His was gold. Some were chrome, white, black, blue, or silver. Some glowed, or just their eyes and teeth glowed. His had a holographic flame effect that he mostly kept off since it affected his vision.
The captain managed to get suited up just as the KEW strike rained down on the base. The underground base shook heavily, knocking the lights out, and dropping debris on their heads. The cave entrance collapsed outside, burying them. Earthquakes rippled from the center of the blast, knocking everyone off their feet. Equipment fell, stores toppled and collapsed, cracks opened up in the walls … it seemed dire and was.
Captain Zhukov felt the occasional pounding on his darkened suit. When it was over, he keyed the suit's start-up. The HUD told him the suit wasn't damaged. He looked about him and then began to dig himself out. “Anyone else around?”
“Did someone get the number of that earthquake?” Sergeant Scornlan said weakly over the net. His customary burr was forgotten in the heat of the moment.
“Sir, the main entrance has collapsed. What do we do?” Lieutenant Sng reported, voice quavering in fear.
“Get to the morgue people. Suit up. The suits have their own internal air supply and food. We'll go from there,” Captain Zhukov ordered. “James, you better have put in that back door,” he growled, eying the sergeant severely.
“Ah mon, donna fas yourself. Of course I did, sir,” the sergeant drawled.
“Good. Come on people, work the problem. Triage the wounded and get your asses suited up. It's hot as Hades out there, but it'll pass. Besides, that's nothing for us, right? We know we're going there anyway!”
“Right!” Sergeant Scornlan and others answered him at full bellow.
“Damn right. Now move it!”
<)>^<)>/
Bordou picked up the transmission as well since it was an omni broadcast in the clear. The Neocollie called everyone in to hear it.
Harambe and most of his senior leadership who had been in the camp at the time showed up in time for Bordou to listen in on the general's response. Bordou turned excited eyes on the others. “Who the devil are they?” he asked, tail wagging in his excitement.
“Does it matter? The enemy of my enemy! They are demanding the Horathian surrender!” Kiki said waving a black handpaw. She had come to the camp the night before and was resting before she returned to the town. It was getting harder and harder for her to slip easily in and out of the towns Harambe knew.
Well, harder when she didn't go naked. He'd seen her turn into an apparition in the distance, fading out of view. He didn't know how she did it, but he
was glad she could do it.
“Yes, but do they wear white hats or a darker shade of black?” Harambe rumbled thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin.
“Look! Look outside! It's like lightning but so bright and broad! Whoever saw straight lightning?” Freya demanded rushing in and pointing back the way she had come. Chuck looked at his wife in confusion. Since they had arrived, they'd been tasked with handling the groups medical and blacksmithing needs.
Bordou slowly rose from his chair at the bright flash of light. When Freya had come in and said that, he set the speaker he'd been cradling to his ear down and went outside. Others followed.
They saw mushroom clouds rising from the ground far away, where the invaders had set up bases. Then winds rushing about like a tornado. “Take cover!” he bellowed as he bent over into the sudden unexpected gale force wind.
“Still think they wear white hats?” Chuck demanded as the howling wind tore at them. He snagged two of his kids and one of Harambe's and sheltered them with his body as they clung to his limbs. Tree branches cracked with thunderous bangs to topple and fall.
“Widow-makers! Get under cover!” Harambe called out urgently, waving them back inside as he looked up to the tree line.
“What do we do?!?” a woman asked, clearly frightened out of her wits.
“Shut up and get in the cave!” Chuck snarled, grabbing a kid who was getting lifted off her feet. He tucked the grateful ape girl under one arm and then practically crawled with her and Bobby on his back to the entrance of the cave a dozen meters away. He felt Freya grab his belt and hold on tight as he dug his feet in and used his thick thighs and their combined weight to get to shelter.
<)>^<)>/
Wade Oberon saw the lightning. It tickled at his distant memory for a moment. Then he saw the rising mushroom clouds and turned. “Storm shelter! Now!” he snarled, grabbing the kids and Kadir. He forced them to move into the basement of the old farmhouse and away from the windows as they blew out in explosions of glass as gale force winds hammered at them. Jean Claude cried out and then followed them. They could hear the unsecured doors pounding open and closed over and over as they got to what safety the basement could provide.
<)>^<)>/
Isabel had been stitching Corporal Lishman's sleeve back together … he'd dropped it off with a day's rations if she could get it back to him in an hour … when some sort of storm hit the town. Dust and heavy winds forced her to stop and close the shutters and then take her sewing into the basement to wait out whatever summer storm had been brought down on their heads.
It was fine with her; they needed the rain. But oddly, she heard distant thunder but there wasn't a drop of rain to be heard or seen.
<)>^<)>/
Jon looked up to the bright lights on the horizon, then rising clouds. He wiped at his brow, and then waved for the kids. “Thunderstorm. Best get under cover before it hits,” he said.
“Aye papa,” Kevin replied.
“Get the stock rounded up and under cover. I'll get Gretchen on the chickens while I close up the house,” Jon said as he dusted off his cap and headed to the house.
Kevin grimaced but obeyed. He whistled to his sister and brothers to lend him and Gretchen a hand.
Chapter 23
Convoy PA -114's arrival brought a small domestic Neocat into the Antigua star system and to Antigua Prime three-days later.
She was unsure of what to do; she had no money. Once she was through customs, she looked around the massive mall complex. The station smelled of bodies and machinery. There were people everywhere. It was fascinating and appalling for her; she'd never seen so many people. It frightened her. She wanted to find a small out-of-the-way place to hide, but she noticed the vents were bolted shut and far out of her reach.
“Move along cat, you are in the way,” a gruff voice said. She looked up and up and up to what looked like a 2-legged cow with a turtle shell. The being snorted at her and then continued on its way.
“Do like she said,” another voice said. Lil Red turned to see a Veraxin with a brass police badge attached to his vest. He had a black tool belt with what she assumed were his tools of his trade. “What?” he asked.
“What was that? You said it was a she?” she asked, cocking her head.
“New here?” the Veraxin clacked, wiggling his mandibles and feather like antenna. Three of his eyestalks swiveled to watch the crowd while the nearest one kept an eye on her.
“Yeah, I just got off the ship,” Lil Red said, pointing back the way she had come.
“Well, you need to find somewhere else to be. Go,” the Veraxin said. “Beat it.”
“I don't know where to go. I'm new here,” Lil Red said, giving the flatfoot her best pitiful expression.
“Figure something out, kitty, not here or you'll be sited for loitering,” the cop said with a motion for her to move along with both truehands.
“Well, you're no help,” Lil Red said in disgust as she flirted her tail and then joined in the throng of people moving out of the area. She looked about her, unsure of where she was going, but willing to follow the current for the moment. Her tail went up like a flagpole to keep it out of the way of trodding feet.
<)>^<)>/
They had underestimated Satet's sleeping cycle. She wasn't available to help make parts initially, though that picked up nearly a week after she came on line. The following week they were happy to see that Tungulria and Tikaani's suits were completed without incident, though the suit's exterior armor was virtual clones of Jethro's and Letanga's. They looked weird with the wolf internal frame components under them.
Tungulria would be next, but the suit would have to be rekeyed to him and his body. With Satet's help, they completed the two suits for the foxes the following week, just in time before Admiral Irons' arrival to initialize the suits and Tungulria. Before they went to the Resurrection Medical Complex, he stopped in to see what they had achieved. “A quarter there,” he said with a nod of approval.
“At least this phase,” Jethro said. “I understand you are already looking for more candidates, sir?”
“We have our eyes on a few, but they are just starting out. A few aren't even in the Marines as of yet,” the admiral said as he and Proteus used the suit nanites to alter the suit to match the spec files on each of their planned occupants. “We'll have to see if it worked right.”
“Yes, sir.”
While the Neowolves and foxes tested and admired the final suits under Ox and Riley's watchful eyes, the admiral took the time to check in with Letanga. “They are still sleeping a lot,” Jethro said in amusement as he showed the admiral where Letanga was stored in his suit.
“I see,” the admiral said with a smile as he noted the Neoleopard asleep in the armor. “Isn't it uncomfortable?” he asked, turning to Jethro.
“Somewhat initially. You get used to it, sir,” Jethro said with an ear flick as Bast smirked at him on his HUD, then gave him a phantom caress on his cheek. “It's easier if you aren't dressed. The fur can be annoying over time, more so when you are wearing clothes. I understand the nanites do something about the smell that builds up.”
“Which we can be forever grateful,” Riley said from where he was working on Shiku's suit adjustments. “I wish all suits had that ability.”
The admiral turned to look at the armorer and then he shook his head and chuckled. “True,” he finally said.
“Satet is helping us a little more each day. When she's awake that is,” Jethro said. Bast nodded and flicked her ears. “I guess if they each follow Bast's pattern, they'll take a year to grow to full size and ability.”
“The more they and their hosts are in their suits, the faster they will develop,” the admiral said. He looked over to Tungulria. The black Neowolf finally had a suit that matched him. He looked good, though his tail was thicker and shaped a bit differently than the cat ones. The whole head too for that matter, Jethro thought.
“Are you ready?” Admiral Irons asked.
; “Yes, sir. Do I go in this?” Tungulria asked. “What about prep for surgery, sir?”
“I think the nanites can take care of the prep. Do you mind napping in the suit? I'd like to see if we can get a jump-start on your integration,” the admiral said, indicating the travel casket.
Tungulria looked at it and then snorted. “I'm not the right kind of monster to come in and out of a casket, but okay, I'm game,” he said as he climbed in.
“Right kind of monster?” Ox asked, looking up from the hand he'd been working on.
“I'm a werewolf. Caskets are for vampires and zombies,” the wolf replied. The others snorted. “Mind not closing the lid until we get ready to leave?”
“Claustrophobic?”
“Not that I know of,” Tungulria stated. “But I'd rather not find out,” he said wryly. He hesitated then froze.
“Problem?” Riley asked, reaching out to the wolf.
“Something … odd. Like something's moving inside. Ants? It's starting to freak me out,” Tungulria said.
“It's the nanites. Let it happen,” Jethro said. “Sometimes they hit your nerves in your skin on the way in,” he explained.
“Lovely. Another thing to get used to,” the Neowolf said as he slowly relaxed. He backed into the casket, moving his tail to one side. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now we get you to the Resurrection facility. Hopefully without someone taking notice of the contents of the box,” Jethro said with an ear flick.
“They'd better notice. But then they'd better forget what they saw,” Admiral Irons growled.
<)>^<)>/
Tungulria's upgrade was the simplest to date. They left him in the suit and worked through ports in the armor. Doctor Thornby used nanites to pass on material and instructions to the suit's nanites. She also injected samples of viral nanites that she had cultivated from Jethro and Bast to help jump-start the wake-up process. Then she was more or less hands-off as Protector, Proteus, and Admiral Irons finished the final wake-up procedure.