The Invasion Begins

by Thomas DePrima

  “I’ve issued orders to Captain Gavin to assign one Scout-Destroyer and half a dozen CPSs to patrol duties in the Ruwalchu territory until the G.A. Senate makes a decision regarding their annexation petition. The remainder of the taskforce will return to Region Three and perform patrol duties.”

  “Seven ships to patrol a territory large enough to justify two hundred,” Jenetta said, shaking her head.

  “It’s the best we can do.”

  “I know, Brian, and I’m not putting any blame on your head. You’re doing a fantastic job. We must simply get more ships and more people. Since the Denubbewa appear to have been completely decimated in Ruwalchu space, the small force of seven ships should be adequate for the time being. And if the Senate approves the annexation, they’ll have to approve an appropriation increase so the territory can be properly protected in the future. We can’t possibly take responsibility for guarding a territory of that size with our present resources. We’re stretched so thin now that I fear any attack by the Denubbewa.”

  “Not to change the subject, but I want to remind the Board that Shana suggested sending reclamation vessels to the Ruwalchu Confederacy when we decided to get involved there. Might I echo her suggestion that we divert the next reclamation efforts to collect the destroyed ships in the Ruwalchu territory?” Admiral Burke said. “None of that waste should fall into the hands of the Ruwalchu or scavengers, should it?”

  “Good point, Raymond,” Jen said. “Shana did suggest that previously. It would be better if scavengers didn’t get their hands on any of the technology that’s sure to be mixed in with the rubble, such as CJ Gate booths.”

  “We still haven’t received any word regarding the attack in Gondusan space,” Admiral Holt said. “We believe the ships have reached their assigned patrol areas, but so far they’ve reported no evidence of a Denubbewa attack.”

  “Any update on Husteus?”

  “Husteus?” Admiral Holt echoed. “It’s too early to hear anything back from the Miami.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the Miami situation. I meant have any other reports been made by freighters or by anyone who’s been trying unsuccessfully to reach a contact on the planet?”

  “No word at all, Jen,” Admiral Holt said.

  “I have an appointment with General Winslow Scott at Harrat Island Marine Base this afternoon. We’re going to discuss the Marine Ground Force Initiative. Following approval and funding of the program by the Senate Council, response to our recruitment efforts has been very positive.”

  “Has Marine Command limited recruitment to Terrans and Nordakians?” Admiral Yuthkotl asked.

  “Not at all, Lesbolh. Terrans are the most dominant species in the new battalions, just as in Space Command, but that’s because Terrans are so numerous from having populated so many planets during the past two centuries. Nordakians also make up a substantial part of our military family. They’ve been strongly invested in space travel for many generations, which is why we opened a Space Command Academy on Nordakia. It’s helped increase the numbers in the service as the G.A. grew. You’re the sole Nordakian on the Admiralty Board, but that’s only because we don’t want to increase the size of the Board, and we couldn’t very well drop existing members to balance species. But once retirement begins to open seats here, every consideration will be given to bringing additional Nordakians on board. The selection, as always, will be based on ability, not species. In addition to Terrans and Nordakians, recruitment for the MGFI has been open to Dakistians, Flordaryns, Arrosians, Selaxians, Milora, Elusions, and Cheblooks.”

  “Milora!” Admiral Ressler exclaimed in surprise.

  “They’re part of the G.A. now and no one can dispute their ferocity as fighters. Under Maxxiloth and his predecessors, Milora were bred to be soldiers, so fighting is all some of them know. They’ve felt almost disenfranchised on Milor since Maxxiloth lost his bid to take over the galaxy. Even those in the Region Two Territorial Guard have talked of feeling useless because the main emphasis has been on peaceful law enforcement since we defeated the Uthlaro armada. I assure you they are loyal to the G.A. now, and becoming part of the Space Marine Corps will hopefully rekindle their spirit.”

  “I naturally understand why being a fierce fighter is a desirable trait in a Marine,” Admiral Bradlee said, “but why Arrosians and Selaxians? Are they going to be protecting Munchkin-land? What’s next, a battalion of Jumakas?”

  Jenetta smiled and looked down at Tayna and then Cayla, who were sitting quietly at her sides. Their heads had risen slightly when their species was referenced and they made eye contact with Jenetta. “Why not? Every species has valuable skills, Roger. Yes, Arrosians and Selaxians are short in stature, but they’re highly intelligent, and there are many times where short stature is prized. They might be at a severe disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat, but it doesn’t take a lot of strength and size to man a gun emplacement on a battlefield or fire a laser weapon at a cyborg. It will be up to the Marine commanders to decide if the recruits can bear up and contribute to our military operations. As for Jumakas, I think they would make a wonderful addition to the MGFI. Their abilities in stealth and reconnaissance are unparalleled among sentient species. And with the translation collars, they wouldn’t need another sentient being along as a ‘handler’ the way militaries needed handlers with K9 units. I’d really like to use this opportunity to coalesce the various species into a united force dedicated to protecting the G.A. We’re all threatened by the Denubbewa, and the species other than Terrans and Nordakians have every right to fight to protect their homes and their home nations. Although we’ve done our best to downplay the deadly serious threat posed by the Denubbewa because we didn’t want the public to panic, the news media has managed to learn the true situation and spread that word throughout the G.A. We have a hundred times more people trying to volunteer for military service than our budget appropriation allows.”

  “You’re correct, Jen,” Admiral Burke said. “Those other species are a part of our nation and deserve an opportunity to fight for the protection of their homes and families, just as we do. It was just a bit of a shock at first. Most of the applicants from those species haven’t been able to pass the entrance examination for the academies, so I guess I sort of dismissed their fighting skills as well. I sure wouldn’t want to face a Milora in battle. They’re probably strong enough to rip a cyborg apart with their bare hands and tentacles.”

  “They may have to if we’re forced to fight the cyborgs in a ground war,” Admiral Bradlee said.

  “I just want to say that I wasn’t suggesting Nordakians were being discriminated against on this board, Jen,” Admiral Yuthkotl said. “Everyone here knows you’re a member of the Nordakian royalty, although a member of the genus Terran. So actually, there are two Nordakians on the Admiralty Board.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Good afternoon, General Scott,” Jenetta said as she exited the CPS-14. These smaller ships, predecessors of the CPS-16s, were used for transporting dignitaries around planets where a trip in a limo wasn’t feasible. Jenetta had long ago returned the CPS-14 assigned to her for her private use while she was on an extended leave of absence. A special limo assigned for her exclusive use was now her usual form of transportation around the Space Command base and G.A. government complex, but for longer trips, including off-world trips, an unmarked CPS was her preferred form of transportation. The CPS-14 might be considerably smaller than the newer CPS-16s, but they were every bit as effective in all endeavors.

  “Welcome to Harrat Island Marine Base, Admiral,” General Winslow Scott said as he extended his hand. “It’s been awhile.”

  “Yes, it has,” Jenetta replied as she took the hand and shook it warmly. “I seem to spend most of my life at my desk or at a conference table these days.”

  “I know what you mean. I feel the same way. I’m always looking for an excuse to get outdoors. Shall we head right over to the training area?”

  “Love to.”

  As they ente
red the limo, Jenetta asked, “How’s your wife and family?”

  “Everyone’s healthy and as reasonably happy as military families ever are. How about your family?”

  “The kids are healthy, getting big, and everyone seems to be happy. I’m hoping I get a chance to see my husband before the end of the year. We share vidMails a couple of times a week, but it’s certainly not the same as being together.”

  “Military relationships are even more difficult when both husband and wife are in the service.”

  “You’re not kidding.”

  “How goes the battle to have your Jumakas declared sentient?”

  Jenetta reached down and gently stroked the fur atop Cayla and Tayna’s skulls before saying, “The Senate is still procrastinating, but the entire G.A. knows the truth, even if they aren’t yet required to treat Jumakas as sentient beings. An increasing number of planets have forged ahead of the Senate and declared them sentient. It will happen throughout the G.A. eventually. The Senate hasn’t been able to dismiss Jumaka sentience— they just haven’t declared it a reality.”

  “What will happen to your two friends when it does?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Right now they’re considered pets and protectors, so it’s not a problem. When their sentience is officially acknowledged, will they still be able to accompany you into top-secret meetings and such?”

  “I’ve given that a bit of thought. They can always accompany me if I make them my official security team and assign them a Most-Secret security rating.”

  General Scott smiled before saying, “Rank has its privileges.”

  Over the next three hours, Jenetta and General Scott toured the base and viewed numerous field training sessions and classroom instruction.

  “Winslow, I’m impressed,” Jenetta said as she prepared to leave the base. “You’ve done a magnificent job in a short period of time.”

  “Our new Space Marines are well motivated. If they didn’t know just how serious the situation was before they arrived, they certainly do now. I promise you they’ll fight as if the fate of the G.A. rests upon their shoulders because to a degree— it does.”

  “Thank you for the tour, Winslow. Thank you for all you’ve done here to advance the Ground Forces Initiative and prepare these Space Marines for the onerous engagements we know are ahead. And thank you for all you and your Marines will do when called to action.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Aboard the destroyer Miami, GSC-D1369, Captain Arthur Benjamin Caldwell was just beginning lunch in the private dining room that was part of his quarters when he received a call via his CT that a message had just arrived for him.

  “Route it to my queue, Chief. I’ll view it after lunch.”

  “Uh, it’s a Priority-One message, Captain.”

  “Priority-One? Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because it’s very unusual, sir.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The message appears to be from Quesann Command— but it has yesterday’s date. And it was sent from Ellask SCB.”

  “Ellask?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then, how can it be from Quesann?”

  “It appears to have been routed through Ellask.”

  “That’s most unusual. Why would Quesann route a Priority-One through Ellask?”

  “I don’t understand it either, sir.”

  “Quesann is four weeks by S-Band from here. Sending it to Ellask first would add at least six hours. Are you sure you’re reading that right?”

  “Yes, sir. And the origination date is definitely yesterday.”

  “Send it to my queue, Chief.”

  “It’s already sent, sir.”

  “Caldwell out.”

  Caldwell stood up and walked to his office where he activated his computer and leaned in for the retinal scan. When the process was complete, the screen lit up with a head-and-shoulders image of Admiral Holt. Caldwell plopped back into his chair to listen.

  “Hello, Captain Caldwell. If everything goes smoothly and our understanding of your approximate location is accurate, you should receive this communication in roughly six to eight hours. Our brand new com system is capable of sending a message from any point in G.A. space to any other point in G.A. space in roughly eighteen to twenty seconds. Yes, you heard that correctly. We are retrofitting the com systems in all Space Command ships and bases with all possible speed, but it will take time. Priority is being given first to bases, then larger warships from battleships down to destroyers, then smaller warships such as the Scout-Destroyers and CPSs, and finally all support vessels. At present, the system is only to be used for important Space Command transmissions where speed is critical. As the system is expanded and proven infallible, it will be used for all communications by Space Command and Space Marine personnel. The S-Band com systems will continue to be used but only for commercial and civilian shipping contact. For the time being, the new com system is to remain a Space Command secret.

  “Since Ellask Space Command Base is the location nearest you with the new system already in operation, that should be your routing location for the present. Your report on this upcoming mission should be forwarded through Ellask with a Priority-One designation.”

  Caldwell’s mouth was hanging open slightly as he thought about communications with Quesann, which was about five weeks away at Marc-One, taking just eighteen seconds.

  “Now, for your mission. We’ve received a report that all attempts to make contact with anyone on the planet Husteus have failed. Since Husteus is a non-aligned planet, we naturally have no presence there. But they’re still part of the G.A. and we have an obligation to protect them from outside interference. Your mission is to travel to Husteus and investigate. If they report that all is well, you’re not to send down any landing parties. If you get no response, send down a couple of your CPS-14s to investigate while cloaked in a double envelope. They are not to land unless the planet has definitely been subjected to outside attack.

  “We estimate that the voyage will take approximately ten days at Marc-One, so we expect to have some word back from you in roughly eleven days when you route your report through Ellask.

  “Be extra vigilant because we have no idea what you might be facing, if anything. Good luck.

  “Admiral Brian Holt, Quesann Command. End of message.”

  Caldwell sat back and took a deep breath. He had heard everything Admiral Holt had said, and absorbed it, but his mind was focused on the claim that a message could be sent from one end of G.A. space to the other in under twenty seconds. He wasn’t a scientist and had no idea how this might be accomplished, but he didn’t doubt Admiral Holt’s statement that it was now possible.

  As he rose from his chair, he touched his Space Command ring and said the name of the officer on Watch duty. When he got a response, he issued orders that they were to head for Husteus at Marc-One. Then he returned to his dining room, still thinking about the new com system.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Skipper?” the tac officer aboard the CPS-16 Freedom’s Child said aloud, “There’s someone headed this way.”

  “Someone?” Lieutenant Jules Harford queried. “A ship— not an asteroid?”

  “It’s definitely a ship, Skipper, and it’s definitely headed right at us.”

  “Helm, is our double envelope still in place?”

  “Yes, sir, Skipper. You said it was to remain around us at all times while we were in Gondusan space.”

  “Good. Okay, no one can see us. Let’s just see who’s coming for a visit.”

  “It’s probably someone else that’s been searching for the freighter,” the navigator said.

  “I don’t know,” the tac officer said. “It’s big, whoever it is.”

  A few minutes later, the tac officer said, “Holy moly, it’s a Denubbewa warship.”

  “Denubbewa?” Harford said. “Are you sure?”

  “Just as sure as I can be. I’ve seen images of Denubbewa warships from e
very angle. They all look basically the same. It’s like once they got a design that worked, they decided to turn out a billion of them.”

  “Standing orders are to destroy every Denubbewa we see,” Harford said, “but let’s wait and see what it does before we pull the trigger. Tac, do we have a WOLaR ready?”

  “Ready and waiting in the ejection tube. All I have to do is arm it, Skipper. That takes one second.”

  “Good, stand by. We’re going to use it. But first I want to see why they’re coming back, assuming they were the ones that killed the freighter crew.”

  The Denubbewa warship came into view, approaching the freighter slowly, and then came to a full stop. As the bridge crew of Freedom’s Child watched, a small yard tender appeared from behind the enormous warship, dragging a freighter section loaded with containers.

  “What are they going to do with that?” the tac officer wondered out loud.

  As the crew watched, the tender pushed the freight section into place and attached it to the freighter.

  “They’re putting it back together,” Helmsman Lieutenant (jg) Ving Villobo said. “I wonder if those containers are still loaded with whatever they were transporting.”

  “I don’t get it,” the tac officer said. “They killed the crew of the freighter to get the cargo, and now they’re bringing it back?”

  “There’s no mistaking the fact that the freighter was attacked by Denubbewa,” the tac officer said. “Those holes and the nuclear charges they use are clear evidence of their guilt.”

  Once the freight section was attached, the yard tractor returned to the warship and entered though a side port.

  “There they go,” the helmsman said.

  “Follow them, Ving.”

  “Aye, Skipper,” the helmsman said as he applied power to the envelope generator.

  “You know where the best places are to place the WOLaR, Ving?”

  “Aye, Skipper. I’ve studied the Denubbewa warship vids so many times I could do it in my sleep.”

  “Okay, but I want your eyes open this time. You call the shot. Tac, arm that WOLaR.”