Battle in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 4)

by D Patrick Wagner

  Sue touched the pause key of the very primitive computer keyboard.

  “This is where we paused the playback. We stopped here and got you so that you could hear the rest.”

  “That is what we saw then went to get you all, Cap.”

  “Keep going.”

  Sue touched the ‘play’ icon.

  “Our ancestors, the team which created Igaklay, made a fatal flaw. They gave him unfettered access and control to everything not militarily related. They believed that, with the processing power which Igaklay possessed, it would guide us to a world of enlightenment and peace. Of safety and health. But they didn’t foresee the costs of that enlightenment and peace. They didn’t know how invasive he would become, taking control of our entire society in the name of safety and health. They never foresaw the unintended consequences.”

  “It began with little things. By now, Ballisonian’s entire population has become dependent on nanites technology. Everyone experienced perfect health because of the medical nanites injected from the time that each of us is born until the day we die. And that became a very long life span, triple and quadruple of what a normal span would be.”

  Krag signaled to Sue, who paused the play.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. Healthy lives, three, four times as long as normal.”

  “Na, it doesn’t, Cap. I’d go for it.”

  “Thoughts?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “Nothing yet, Krag. We need more information.”

  Krag nodded to Sue. She pushed the ‘play’.

  “Igaklay constructed and controlled the nanites. Over time, it modified them so that they became mood controllers. It had decided that, for the safety of society, individual aggressive tendencies should be controlled. It came up with the ideal temperament and, over generations, molded us into a docile, unimaginative population.”

  Krag signaled Sue. Again, she paused the playback.

  “I see where this is going,” Krag stated.

  “Yes, Igaklay decided that the temperament which made Ballisonians who they were was self-destructive. He, it, decided to alter the Ballisonians for his control.”

  “Ya, Wee-One. Igaklay decided that sheep were better than wolves.”

  “Interesting concept, Ambassador Suzume.”

  “Why would you say that, Your Highness?”

  “Both of our races, and now, apparently, the Ballisonians, have aggressive tendencies. Some more than others. Elonians spend their whole lives balancing their animal sides with their intellectual sides. It’s a constant battle. What if we could eliminate those internal conflicts completely?”

  “Princess Analyn, if I may?”

  “Of course, Legate Buster.”

  “The concept of aggression suppression is honorable, even noble. But history shows that the practical application is destructive and regressive.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Doctor Roshnak. If mankind’s natural aggression, its survival instincts became suppressed, we wouldn’t have continued to press forward with the advancement of civilization. We wouldn’t have ever left Old Earth. We would never have discovered the gates, expanded into the Federacy star systems. I can’t speak for Elonia, but Mankind relies on its natural aggression and inherent drive to continue to grow and advance.”

  “Actually, this is the same for Elonians. We constantly are conflicted with our animal side, but, our civilization probably would not be where it is today.”

  “I wonder how the Ballisonians were able to break out of this forced lassitude?”

  “Maybe we’ll find out, Your Highness.”

  “Sue?”

  She pressed the ‘play’ button.

  “As is true with everything, everything has exceptions. So it is with some of us and the nanites. Some Ballisonians naturally rejected the nanites. For those of us, we lived shorter lives. We had to work to remain healthy. We had to drive ourselves harder, learn faster, be more aggressive in our pursuit of success. At the same time, we could see what was happening to all of the others. We, and our immune children, began a movement to create an insulated enclave of Ballisonians whose sole purpose was to undo the deeply imbedded mood control which Igaklay has infected throughout our society.”

  “Ya, good. The wee Ballisonians have revolutionaries fighting back, trying to get the rest of the Ballisonians back on track. Get them out from under Iggy’s thumb, metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  Everyone went back to watching and listening to the hologram.

  “It took multiple generations of the short-lived Ballisonians, but our forefathers succeeded in building an isolated base on our sister planet, Bachama. We succeeded in making it invisible to Igaklay across all electromagnetic, radiometric and quantum entanglement spectrums.

  Our forefather’s first utilization of this base was to establish our own artificial intelligence, separate from Igaklay. They succeeded at this. While doing this, they were able to spirit away from Igaklay a medical printer. They needed this to create a new set of nanites, ones not designed by and under the control of Igaklay. Although our forefathers weren’t capable utilizing these free nanites, they were able to slowly introduce them into the Ballisonian population, at the time of a Ballisonian’s birth.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Krag interrupted. “No nanites for us.”

  “But, Cap. Igaklay says we need them so that we don’t black out during jumps.”

  “We live with what we’ve got, Mack.”

  “Um, Captain?”

  “Yes, Sue?”

  “A possible answer is in front of us. We sneak over to Bachama. Contact that A.I. See if we can get the nanites from it.”

  “How do we do that? Igaklay watches us for every second of every day.”

  “Test flight, Cap.”

  Everyone waited while Krag worked the problem.

  “Ok, Mack. You, Sue, figure out how to get us to Bachama.”

  “Princess, Vidhee, does this meet with your approval?”

  “Yes, Ambassador. I see no other way.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “I do not concur.”

  Vidhee’s response took the group by surprise.”

  “Why is that, Vidhee?”

  “The obvious reason is that there is an element of lying to Igaklay. Even though it is through the hiding of this information. This is causing my ethics module to disagree. And, I might add, from my time with you and with my emotions module benefiting from this time, I feel that it is wrong.”

  “And, I might add, Captain.”

  “Yes, Buster?”

  “We are dealing with an A.I. the size of a small moon. I don’t think that we can plan a course of action which will keep him ignorant of our true goals..”

  “He’s right, Cap. No way are we going to outthink Iggy. If we piss him off, all he has to do is shut down the mass negator. And we’re stuck here.”

  “So, what’s the plan, people?”

  “I change my mind, Krag. I think we simply show Igaklay the video. See how he reacts.”

  “Oh, boy. Doctors. Input?”

  “Well, Captain Marston. I’m an archeologist. I’m going to defer to Doctor Roshnak.”

  “What did Sir Mack say? Oh, yes. Payback’s a child bearer with offspring.” Doctor Roshnak smiled a toothless smile at Doctor Ganakin.

  “Not exactly, Doc. But close.”

  “Well.” Doctor Roshnak paused to get his thoughts in order.

  “I think we all agree that in dealing with Igaklay, we are dealing with a self-centered cub. Is that right?”

  He looked around the room and got nods from everyone.”

  “And we all agree, that when he is in the room, his logic matrix is far superior to any of us.”

  Again he received nods.

  “Then, we need to get Igaklay to use his logic to control his decision process, rather than his emotional one. Someone needs to grab his ear and force him to understand what he did wrong
with the Ballisonians.”

  “So, what you’re saying, Doc, is that someone needs to sit down and have a heart to heart talk with Iggy.”

  “Not ‘someone’, Sir Mack. Let me pose a question. Who does Igaklay listen to the most when he is being chastised?”

  “Don’t go there, Doc. You can’t go there. I’m just the nuts and bolts guy for this little clan.”

  “Nice try, Wrenchy. How many times have you just said a word and Igaklay changes his emotion loop?”

  “Ya, Lassie. But that’s about whining or complaining. Not important stuff.”

  “And, that is the point, Sir Mack. Igaklay responds to you. I think he has begun to think of you as his big brother.”

  “Big brother. With a little brother the size of a moon, a brain bigger than all of us combined and thousands of years old.”

  “And the maturity level of a spoiled teenager.”

  Cap, Wee-One. Don’t you have any better ideas? I really don’t want to do this. What if I screw up? What if Iggy gets all in a twit?”

  “Bad news,” Krag said with a smile. “I go with the good doctor.”

  “I am not liking this. I want you all to know. Not one little bit.”

  “You can do it. I know you can.”

  “Thanks, Wee-One. What about you guys. Are you going to be there, when I drop this bomb on Iggy?”

  “On Elonia, when a child needs strong guidance, it is usually done privately so that the child is not shamed among his pack.”

  “I was afraid of that. Same with us humans. Ok. But give me a day, maybe two to let it rattle around a bit. Let me get a handle on what I am going to say.”

  “That we can do. Vidhee. Would it be appropriate to tell Igaklay that we will have a presentation for him on the crystal in two days?”

  “Yes, Captain Marston. That will be fine.”

  Chapter 14

  Nuevo Aires

  When the Morteks invaded Sasania, they found a cowed populous of weaponless soft skins intent on running and hiding from the invading alien horde. In Nye Nippon they discovered emptied cities and population centers, with almost all of the inhabitants fleeing to the mountains and again hiding from the invading alien horde. With the military might of Cencore routed, again the Mortek invaders found an unarmed populous, used to being under the yoke of totalitarianism and used to being controlled. What the Mortek invaders found on Latinia and especially in Nuevo Aires proved to be something entirely different.

  The huge alien assault ship thundered through the air, decelerated at an unimaginable rate and ended its flight by dropping onto the central park of Nuevo Aires. Again, as the previous three invasions began, three ramps – back and both sides, dropped and the monsters stormed out.

  Hundreds of the four-legged, armed and armored aliens charged from the ship. They brought their strange rifle-like weapons to bear and established a defensive parameter. Un-armoured flying creatures wearing helmets and holding boxes with strange protrusions shot up through the open hatch in the spacecraft’s roof.

  And that is where the Mortek’s previous experience ended.

  Thousands of small and medium arms weapons opened up from the surrounding buildings. Having learned from the intel smuggled out from Sasania, these weapons weren’t energy or laser weapons. They were kinetic and explosive weapons. The high-speed pellets fired at the invaders tore through the four-legged, two-armed bodies, exploded long-snout heads, turning the landing site into a field of mutilated alien carcasses.

  Rocket launchers fired their munitions at the landed ship and hammered it into scrap before it became a mushroom-shaped fireball rising into the Latinia air.

  The now-stranded aerial aliens became target practice with the shooters and spectators cheering every time one of those aliens plummeted to the earth, their bodies making small dust clouds as they impacted.

  This time the power brokers had met in Governor Moreno’s bunker suite. They all watched the alien carnage brought on by Latina’s militia.

  “Well done, Emilio. You set up the placements?”

  “No, Jefe. My Consejero is an ex-marine, ground pounder. Julio Escobar. Turns out he got to be a deployment planner. I let him do all of the work.”

  “Well, let him know, I’m grateful. I’ll remember him.”

  “I’ll pass it on, Jefe.”

  Everyone turned back to the monitors, enjoying what just happened and wondering what was to come.

  Onboard World Crusher

  <<< Proof >>>

  In panic and rage, Fourth Lead Assaulter threw the half-eaten arm at the monitor. The soft skin arm splattered blood and dissolved meat on the screen then slid down to finally splat on the deck. The Mortek dropped his two arms and pressed hard on his two front knees. Sitting in shock, his tubular tongue flapped uselessly in the air while his head comb hung dead down his back. His wings sagged uselessly at his sides.

  Fourth Lead Assaulter attained his position through intelligence, strength and brutality. Those traits served him now. Still panicked by his warriors and, by extension, his failure, he refocused and reordered.

  “Send in the heavy weapons carriers,” he ordered. “Their landing zones are the same as the original first wave.”

  Fourth Lead Assaulter heard the positive responses. He watched as they launched. When they reached halfway to their targets, he ordered the other seven hundred and fifty attack ships to launch.

  This time he did not slurp on soft-skin meat. This time he watched with trepidation, hoping that this assault would take hold.

  The heavy weapons carriers slammed into their targeted sites, dropped ramps and released tanks, followed by armored and armed personnel carriers. The tanks immediately began firing their particle beams at the surrounding buildings, destroying everything standing and everyone inside.

  The attack ships landed within the defensive rings formed by the tanks, disgorged the warriors and immediately took flight. The warriors raced to, and entered, the personnel transports, sealed up and manned the guns bristling the vehicles like spikes on a porcupine.

  The tanks moved out, trampling destroyed buildings and anything dead or alive. Any building blocking their way became a pile of rubble. Any barriers became so much debris as they plowed through the makeshift obstacles.

  The troop carriers raked everything with withering fire, killing anything that moved.

  Unlike Sasania or Nyu Nippon, this invasion didn’t stun and collect. It killed and destroyed.

  Fourth Lead Assaulter knew that War, Intelligence and Logistics would be less than pleased with his decision. But that would be monumentally better than having to report failure. He stayed glued to his monitors, watching multiple soft-skin cities being destroyed, along with the potential food and slaves.

  One soft-skin city proved to be more trouble than all of the rest. He kept his focus there, willing his warriors to smash this tougher defense.

  Onboard Heimdallr

  After twelve days of wormhole time, a refreshed and antsy crew crept Heimdallr into Tolimar space. After a careful scan, they found nothing. They missed Odin, hiding behind Tolimar’s star, sitting dormant.

  “Pretty dead here, Captain.”

  “Nothing? No Odin?”

  “No, Captain. Looks like all ships have ran or gone to ground.”

  “Odin’s got to be around, somewhere,” Captain Scott mused. “Toast, send a broad beam. Just our ship I.D. Maybe Odin will pick it up. Brooksy, take us in, casual.”

  The next hour saw the small spy ship powering through Tolimar’s space, heading for the home world, squawking its I.D. Lieutenant Torres’s com pinged.

  “I have the Vice-Admiral on the horn, Captain.”

  “Put him up.”

  The three crewmates saw an impeccably dressed Vice-Admiral. They also saw the haunted eyes of a leader who has experienced deaths of his charges and defeat of his forces. They heard a voice steeped in finality.

  “Hello Captain Scott. Welcome to Tolimar.”

  “It�
��s good to be here, Vice-Admiral.”

  “What have you got for me? Give me a quick rundown, starting with Cencore.”

  “Cencore has been defeated, I’m sorry to say.”

  “That was to be expected. Survivors?”

  “Your father succeeded in rescuing almost two million people, getting them on ships and heading to Old Earth.”

  “My family?”

  “Unknown, Sir.” Sadness tinged Scott’s answer.

  “Father would look out for them. I hope they’re safe.”

  “Yes, he would, Sir. I’m sure they are. Titan is buttoned down. Last time we communicated with them, the bugs hadn’t found them. I don’t think they will. The aliens are focused on Olympia. They’ve gotten the shipyards and space station back up and running.”

  “Thor?”

  “Gone, Sir. All military vessels appeared to have been lost during the battle.”

  “Hodr?”

  “Titan says that she was converted to a carrier for civilian evacuation.”

  “Bridgelen?”

  “A staging point, Sir. When we sailed through, a single alien fleet floated at the ready”

  “Preparing for the next invasion.”

  “While we were sneaking through Arium, we did catch a quarter of the Bridgelen fleet filtering in to reinforce the three cruisers and super dreadnaught already there.”

  “Well, we know where they’re coming next. Here.”

  “It would seem so, Admiral. But not for a time.”

  “They’re hitting Latinia?”

  “We saw the strike, Sir. But then that carrier sent in another wave. Something happened on the planet.”

  “We always knew that the gunrunning and arms dealing came from there. I bet they armed up and fought back. Good for them. I hope they survive.”

  “That’s my thought, Sir. It should give us some time.”

  “If the bugs stay true to form, around six months. Come on in. refuel and relax. Our turn is coming.”