Galactic Assimilation 2:: Empire Rising

by J. K. Mabrey

  “Reinforcements?” Zavik asked.

  “For them, maybe,” Davis said.

  The rookies ran along the sides of the training ground, firing their lasers lazily at the tower.

  “You’re showing your position too soon,” Mike shouted over the com. “Take cover, now!”

  Heavy fire from the tower rained down on them. Jones was behind cover, and Smart just managed to reach safety before the blasts lit up the ground.

  Troopers exited the dropship and began their march down the grounds, firing indiscriminately along the way.

  "Why are we fighting against people again?" Zavik asked. "I thought we decided that wasn't good enough."

  "It's all we have," Mike responded with a slight shake of his head, "besides, our mission is to infiltrate the command center which will be crawling with Sequoia. A laser blast to the chest will drop them all the same as it will you and me."

  "What about getting to the planet's surface in the first place?" Davis asked.

  "You leave that up to the Admiral," Mike said, "it's above our pay grades."

  "Rodger that," Zavik said and managed a lazy salute his way.

  “Let’s go!” Mike ordered Khan and Davis. “Covering fire!” was for the rookies to obey.

  He poked his head out of cover and aimed at the approaching troopers. The troopers dispersed at the sight of oncoming fire, and they moved up to the next cover spot.

  “We can’t poke and run all the way there,” Zavik said.

  “I got this,” Davis said and stepped out from their position. He walked forward, unloading his weapon on the troopers. A few of them fell, but he was hit in the shoulder. Zavik ran after him and tackled him to the ground as he stumbled back. A laser blast zipped through where he had just stood a moment before.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Khan!” Davis shouted clutching his right shoulder. “Complete the mission!”

  “We all complete the mission, or no one does,” he said.

  “Khan, is he all right?” Mike asked.

  “He’ll live, I imagine.”

  Mike ran up to their position. “At least the rookies are making progress.”

  They advanced further down the training grounds while the troopers were focused on Davis, but now their attention once again turned on them. The towers hit their position hard. Their cover chipped away under the fire.

  A trooper flanked their left and struck them down with ease.

  “They were,” Zavik said.

  “Can’t save’em all, Zav,” Mike said. “Tough thing about being in command.”

  “Good thing this is just a training exercise then.”

  “Training to simulate the real thing. Those Sequoia will sure hit us harder than this for invading their planet.”

  Zavik propped Davis up against a crate. “You just wait here. Shall we finish this training exercise?” Zavik asked Mike, aiming his rifle at the tower.

  “After you Captain.”

  Zavik shook his head. “How did you get to outrank me?”

  “I listen to my superiors.”

  “Right, I gotta work on that.”

  Zavik moved out of cover and fired at the approaching troopers. Three fell and the others dove for cover. Mike emerged from the other side of the barrier and the two closed in on the remaining troops. They were quickly disposed of. The tower’s fire was constant but erratic.

  “How do we take out that tower?” Zavik asked.

  “You have a grappling hook?” Zavik nodded. “Get to the top while I draw their fire.”

  Zavik loaded the grappling extension into his blaster and fired a hook just below the left guard. Mike stepped out of cover and fired off a few shots that weren’t close to connecting.

  Zavik ascended to the top and climbed the rail behind the guard. A quick kick to the back of the knee followed by a chokehold and that guard was taken out. The other guard swiveled the gun around and fired at Zavik who could only dodge the blasts as they whirled past his head. They weren’t lethal shots, but each blast would burn and leave a nasty bruise for at least a week. Zavik hit the floor and fired at the guard. Mike fired as well. The guard clutched his chest and fell to the floor.

  Zavik stood up and set off the signal. They had succeeded. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t too efficient, but it was effective. He could live with it.

  Zavik climbed down the tower and helped Davis up. Smart and Jones joined them, each rubbing their chest and shoulders.

  “It’s a good thing Commander Snyder took down that last guard, Khan,” Smart said.

  “What are you talking about?” Zavik responded. “I took both guards out myself.”

  “Ha! You wish,” Mike said. “I got that last one for ya.”

  “I believe you both hit me,” the guard said as he shoved past their arguing.

  “Yeah,” Zavik said, “but I hit you first.”

  “Either way,” Mike said, “we’ve got to get better out there men. When we’re on Sequa, they won't be firing these weak blasts. It’ll be for keeps.”

  “What are you saying, sir?” Jones asked.

  “I’m saying, we’re going again.”

  Chapter 4

  Mike's eyes opened as the transport landed with a thud. He could only wonder why Zavik chose this planet to settle on. Zalif was lawless and crawling with degenerate aliens. Not exactly his idea of a good place to get back on your feet. "Stay here with the ship," he said to the pilot.

  "But, sir, I thought this was an official assignment. Protocol requires all officers on official duty to be accompanied while not on Earth controlled territories."

  "That's all well and good, son, but this is more of a personal matter than a U.E.F. assignment. I'll take full responsibility for any discomfort my being alone creates."

  “You’re sure? This guy was discharged. You’re not worried he might hold some resentment to the Force?”

  “Not all discharges are the same, I’ll have you know,” Mike said. “One could only hope to be discharged under similar circumstances, instead of for cowardice reasons.”

  Mike stepped through the door of the third rundown bar he'd visited that day. His hopes of finding Zavik had slimmed. The bar looked like a disaster from the outside, and the inside didn't impress much either. A foul stench crept up his nose and nearly knocked him to his knees. Rotten food or bad drinks, he couldn't tell which, lingered behind an overwhelming amount of unkempt creature odor. He quickly longed for the re-circulated air of the ship. Even its metallic sting was more pleasant than this. Most establishments had some type of air filter. This place's must have broken a long time ago and no one deemed it worthy to fix. The crowd inside didn't seem to mind too much.

  Mike looked around at the patrons. The bar was small but packed. His eyes slowly adjusted from the brightness of the falling sun outside to the dim yellow that cast a pale shadow on the well-worn floor. Three Chokmnd sat with a Bacarian, locked in what appeared to be a heated argument, but there was no sign of violence. Two humans were in a corner sipping a drink and watching the viewscreens showing an off-world match of dashball. At least that's what humans called it. Riding around on high-speed flying bikes sounded fun but extremely dangerous to Mike. Throughout the Galaxy, though, billions loved watching the matches. There was almost always at least one major injury per match and about every five matches resulted in someone dying. He thought it was barbaric, but people seemed to love it. Modern day gladiators, if you asked him.

  A mixture of aliens occupied the other tables. They were minding their own business and seemed to pay no attention to him. He picked out the humans in the place and made his way around to each table. Two guys were playing a variation of chess, something not seen off of Earth too often. Neither were Zavik. A guy sat alone, an electronic device in his hand, personal business. Not Zavik. A guy and girl sat in a booth, holding hands. His spirit rose as he walked over. The guy shot him a harsh look and motioned for him to get outta there. Definitely not Zavik. Mike turned around
quickly and his spirit lifted. He saw him sitting at a booth, eyes fixed on the dashball match.

  Mike quickly sat down without Zavik noticing him and without waiting for an invitation. "Hey, Zavik, good to see you," he said.

  It took a second for a response. "Mike Snyder?" he asked in a voice that was barely audible over the rustling of the bar. His face was wrinkled and confused. "It's been a while."

  It had. Mike strained to remember the last time he talked to Zavik, much less the last time they saw each other. He came to the conclusion that it had been three years. Mike was promoted to Admiral. He no longer dealt with updating the weapon systems on the space stations, or his secondary interest in the logistics of shipping and procuring supplies for Earth. That was something he took up after the Red Moon Rebellion. He helped make sure Zavik received a few of the more valuable shipping contracts available just after the fighting stopped. Zavik continued to receive contracts for shipping after Mike was promoted, but things had changed. The U.E.F. began demanding that freelance shippers have lightdrives installed on their ships.

  Lightdrives were a new technology developed shortly after the Red Moon Rebellion. Their creation was top secret, the Council refused to say where the technology was created or who invented it or even how long it had been in development. They provided a means of traveling across the Galaxy without using the portals. Lightdrives generated a small local portal around a ship. This portal allowed travel across the galaxy at speeds much greater than the laws of physics would suggest. The rip in space-time mirrored that created by the conventional portals stationed around each planet, but without the destination already opened by another portal the travel time was not instant, as it was for the stationary portals. The lightdrives would take days to travel across the entire galaxy, but a ship was free to do that without needing access to the portals. In some cases, that was a very valuable trade off.

  The U.E.F. wasn't concerned with the increased shipping time that the lightdrives would create. They were concerned with the increased tolls the Council had levied recently on portal traffic and the tariffs placed on bulk goods moved through the portals. The conflict with Red Moon cost the Galactic Community greatly and the Council decided the fairest way to recoup that cost would be through increased fees, primarily on shipping.

  For most systems, this was a minor annoyance, but Earth was different. The influx of supplies for Earth's restoration helped return the planet to self-sustainment, but the increased fees took a lot out of Earth's economy. The Earth Council felt it was unfair for Earth to have to pay when they themselves lost so much during the conflict that was aimed at them.

  As a means to reduce shipping costs, the Earth Council began requiring the U.E.F. to give preferential treatment to shippers with access to lightdrives. For now, these new drives provided a way to get around the portal fees, but the tariffs on shipments were still levied on them. The Galactic Council had debated raising the tariffs on ships using lightdrives, but in reality, they wanted to encourage the new technology. The legacy portals were prohibitively expensive to repair and maintain. In recent centuries the traffic the average portal experienced had more than tripled as more species were incorporated into the Community and populations, with the exception of Earth’s, grew.

  The increase in colonies being settled with fewer portal connections also increased traffic around the central systems. Each time a ship moved through a portal, the energy crystal embedded in the structure to sustain the connection was diminished. The crystal, known as a getrino stone, was capable of converting its mass into pure energy with relative ease. Over time it needed to be replaced. Recently the lifespan of the crystals had fallen to about six months. Each replacement took the portal offline for two weeks and cost the Community over one million credits. The Council had been desperate to reduce traffic through the portals, however possible, for years. The new lightdrives provided the best opportunity to shift interstellar travel away from the portals and put the burden on the individuals.

  The lax fees associated with lightdrive use prompted the U.E.F. to begin favoring them over shippers who still relied solely on portals. The Rinada, Zavik's personal ship, did not have a lightdrive installed and his contracts with the U.E.F. had all but ceased.

  "That it has," Mike finally said as he settled into the stiff booth. Zavik sat across from him, looking quite well for where he was. His eyes were a little red though.

  "I thought you might have forgotten about me," Zavik said.

  "You know I could never do that."

  "Right...Since you tracked me down, what is I can do for you-" he eyed the front of Mike's shirt "-Admiral, still?"

  "Yes, well, I'll cut straight to the point. I want to offer you a contract."

  "A contract," Zavik said, his eyes lifting from his half full drink, "for what?"

  "Earth has approved the colonization of Garos. Exploratory science missions have deemed it very suitable for human life. The Council has given their blessing seeing as the planet has no intelligent life evolving on it. We've already begun settling people on the planet."

  "Garos is that new planet discovered in the Outer Spiral, right?" Zavik asked.

  He had kept up with Earth. "Yeah, those new lightdrives have really helped increase the number of known habitable planets in the Galaxy. Our Starfleet missions to discover new worlds found Garos pretty early on. It's the best location to expand our influence and settle our first colony."

  "You sure about that?" Zavik asked. "The Outer Spiral can be pretty rough. The Council doesn't have as strong a presence like they do in the inner systems. These planets are run by crime syndicates like the Blue Blazes, and the remnants of Red Moon. Those fancy new lightdrives take about three days to reach out here from Cedona. It's almost twice that from Earth. Portal jumping that far will cost an arm and a leg."

  "It's not the money that's the problem," Mike said. He could sense Zavik's hostile tone towards the Outer Spiral, and he wasn't wrong.

  "So the U.E.F.'s contracting with non-lightdrivers again?"

  "They always were," Mike said. "I heard you just didn't like the rates they paid."

  "It was insulting," Zavik said. "I could have gotten paid more for delivering salt to Tragun wives on Doval."

  "Why didn't you?" Mike asked.

  "Doesn’t interest me."

  "What does interest you? Going after a broken down remnant of Red Moon?" Mike asked.

  "They're not broken," Zavik said as he gripped his glass. "Not yet."

  "But Varin is gone."

  "Maybe he is," Zavik said, "but..."

  "You want to destroy everything he built."

  "It's what he deserves." Zavik gritted his teeth. "No, what he deserves is to die, not have the luxury of living out his years in the Dark Sector."

  "From what I hear that's not much of a luxury." Mike let out a slow breath. "When are you going to give that up? It's not good for you, you know. The anger. The hate. The rest of the Galaxy moved on, why not you?"

  "I don't know," Zavik said. "I try. I want to. It's just I keep having this feeling that I need to make sure his plan is finished. That he's beaten so bad there's nothing to come back for."

  "Zavik," Mike said in a slow, drawn out way, "even if there was something to come back to, he can't."

  "I know. Like I said, it's just this feeling I have."

  "And that doesn't concern you?" Mike asked. "That you're the only one who thinks he'll come back, and to what? A fractured organization that would take decades to rebuild to where it was before the rebellion? And a Galaxy that knows all about him?"

  "I can't explain it to you, can't explain it to myself," Zavik said. He now just wanted Mike to leave, and take his job to someone else. It was a nice reunion, but he didn’t need his job.

  "No, I suppose you can't," Mike said, "but eventually your crew is going to start asking their own questions, if they haven't already. What then, Zavik? What will you do when Dani gets tired of chasing ghosts only you see?"

&
nbsp; "I already promised them that our next job would have nothing to do with Red Moon."

  "Then what's the problem with taking my offer?" Mike asked. "It has nothing to do with Red Moon, and Garos is out here in the Outer Spiral, just the part of the Galaxy you seem to like best."

  Zavik took a long slow sip from his cool drink. "I'm not a cargo taxi."

  "It's a good job, that will help a lot of people live better lives," Mike said. "It's got to be more exciting than this." He waved his hand across the bar and Zavik gave a slight nod.

  "The dashball matches are exciting at least," Zavik said with a short laugh at the end, more pity than anything. "You ever see one in person? Ridiculous how fast those bikes go without even a shell around you for protection. I've got fifty on the Ricketson Stelbachs to cover."

  "Cover?" Mike asked wondering what the spread on a dashball match was.

  "Yeah, they're favored to win by 20. It should be easy to do. Their riders are better and besides, the Iren Waluds just lost their best tosser for the rest of the year."

  "What happened to him?"

  "A detonator went off too close to his power core and sent his bike crashing into his own wall. Cost them the match and he broke almost every bone in his body." Zavik saw the shocked and disgusted look on Mike's face and added, "Don't worry, he'll be back to form before the start of next season."

  "I see...So how does one win by 20 in this match?" he asked glancing up at the screen. "It looks like they're just trying to blow each other up every few minutes."

  Zavik leaned in. "Well, you see those glowing orbs that drop into the ring every few minutes? Those are the detonators. They'll explode at some random time, usually, a few minutes after being dropped, only the guy holding the detonator knows how long they have. He has to try and get that to the other team's wall. Over there," he pointed to the screen as it showed a concrete wall, half destroyed and crumbling. A device landed on the ground next to the wall and exploded. Slabs of concrete were flung into the air, burying a rider too close to the blast. A number flashed on the screen. Thirty-five.