* * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
~ November 13th, 2292 ~
The operation was coordinated down to the millisecond. The rear cabins of the shuttles were standing room only. Filled with as many Marines and their weapons as could be stuffed into the area, the shuttles were poised to attack every internment center selected for Phase One at the same instant.
The shuttle piloted by Lieutenant Dwayne Carmoody was high above the prisoner pens in a domed sports coliseum. Upon entering the coliseum while the shuttle was cloaked in a double envelope, copilot Brad Newscome activated the targeting systems and identified the location of all visible cyborg shapes.
As the seconds ticked down, Carmoody announced to the Marines in the rear cabin, “One minute to go.”
Ten seconds before the action would commence, Newscome had the targeting system verify the previously identified cyborg locations. Two cyborgs had moved, but the system had already tracked them to their new location.
One second before the attack began, all communications frequencies around the planet were filled with static. At the same instant, Carmoody canceled the double envelope and Newscome retracted the covers over the shuttle’s lasers, allowing the guns to rise up through the roof, front and rear.
All hell broke loose as the shuttle’s guns were activated by Newscome. Laser beams shot out too fast for the human eye to follow as the guns loosed a barrage at the system’s preselected targets. If a target moved during the barrage, the guns tracked it and continued firing until the target stopped moving.
When all targets were down, Newscome had the targeting system again search the coliseum, but it found no new cyborg shapes.
Carmoody quickly lowered the shuttle to the chosen landing location and punched the control button that would drop the rear cabin ramps. Marines poured out of the ship, with the first squads taking a knee as the entire platoon searched for any signs of danger. No fire came their way, so they spread out in pairs to search the area and check the downed cyborgs to make sure they weren’t about to get up— ever again.
The situation remained tense until the coliseum had been thoroughly checked. When the “all clear” was given, the shuttle crew was free to build their double envelope and return to an assembly point where other Marines were waiting.
~
Roughly fifteen minutes later, the shuttle returned with another full load of Marines and set down in the coliseum. After the Marines had disembarked, the pilots were free to relax— for a moment.
“All done here!” Carmoody said as the ramps in the rear cabin area retracted.
“Then let’s head to our secondary target.”
Eighteen minutes later, the shuttle landed to pick up Marines near the next cyborg HQ to be cleared. When they couldn’t squeeze another body into the rear cabin, the ramps were closed and the shuttle rose into the air, building its double envelope in preparation for entering the next internment center in the nearby city.
Twelve minutes later, they were inside another large sporting-events building.
“It appears they haven’t gotten the word over here,” Carmoody said.
“Perfect,” Newscome said. “Give me a few seconds to locate all of our targets.”
Once the targeting system had done its job, Newscome said, “Ready to go, Skip.”
“Okay, here we go.”
As the double envelope dissolved and the shuttle lowered slightly, Newscome opened up with the shuttle’s guns. When the targeting system indicated that all targets were down, Carmoody lowered the shuttle and dropped the rear cabin ramps.
As the last of the Marines piled out, Carmoody withdrew the ramps and raised the shuttle, building the double envelope as they went.
After returning with another full shuttle of Marines and opening the ramps, Carmoody asked, “How long until the fecal matter hits the rotary cooling device?”
“Uh, about eighteen minutes. The captain wanted to give us plenty of time to take control of the Hustean prisoners before we let the cyborgs communicate with each other again. By now, the Marines have had time to check every cyborg body we took down and finish off any that were still functioning with a kill shot to the brainpan.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that we’re killing so many?”
“Nah! They’re not really alive, even if they once were. They’re just mechanical bodies controlled by a biological brain that’s basically brain dead. They can follow their programming, but that’s all. I sure wouldn’t want to live like that. That’s not life. I’d rather be finished off.”
“What do you think will happen when the cyborgs learn they no longer control the internment centers around the planet?”
“Anybody’s guess. Some might foolishly attack, giving us a chance to further reduce their numbers. I’ve also heard some speculation that they might be able to escape the planet using those booths they have, if there are any booths outside the internment areas.”
“You don’t think any will surrender? I mean, the matter is pretty much settled.”
“Nah, I’ve been told they never stop until they’re dead. The Marines will slowly mop ‘em up. I wish they’d let us fly though the streets and help clean up the cities. Now that the remaining Husteans are safe, it’s clobbering time.”
“Maybe they will. We’ll know soon enough.”
~
“The communication frequencies are all clear,” Newscome said. “And we’re getting a message from the Artemis Command Center. It’s going out to all shuttle crews.”
~
“Now that’s what we wanted to hear,” Carmoody said after they had listened to the message and received new orders. “We now control every internment center on the planet and we’re free to support the Marine operations outside. Let’s head out.”
Carmoody had to build a double envelope in order to exit the coliseum, then drop it so they could assist in destroying the cyborgs.
As the shuttle flew through the streets in the city’s center, Newscome manned the weapons while Carmoody concentrated on flying the ship and avoiding obstacles. For the first ten minutes, the shuttle’s laser guns never stopped blazing for more than an instant.
~
After they had been flying for twenty minutes without seeing a live cyborg, the shuttle crew requested permission to return to their ship orbiting the planet. They were told instead to return to the city of their first assigned internment area and aid the Marines in clearing the city streets of cyborgs outside the sports coliseum.
~
With a renewed sense of accomplishment, Carmoody again requested permission to return to his ship in orbit. He was told to remain where they were and wait in their ship for new instructions.
“What do you think this is about?” Newscome asked.
“Beats me. Maybe they need us to ferry injured Husteans up to the fleet for medical attention.”
“I heard the Marines were setting up mobile hospitals at all of their Command Centers.”
“Oh. Maybe there’s a reason they can’t provide medical care to Husteans aboard the ships. Maybe it has something to do with the species, or maybe it’s because Husteus is a non-aligned planet. We’ll find out eventually. Right now they say wait, so we wait.”
~ ~ ~
“It appears to be over,” Captain Critarian said to the senior officers in the planning room as she entered. “It was even more successful than I dared hope. None of our shuttles were damaged, and no Marines were lost or injured in the assaults on the internment locations. There are a half dozen reports of injuries sustained by Husteans inside the internment areas when they were caught in crossfire situations, but only one death. Our medics are doing their best to patch them up, but we know little about their physiology so they’re doing the best they can to staunch blood flows and close wounds while we try to find medical personnel among the prisoners. Congratulations all around and especially to Commander Carver for an excellent attack plan. Today we saved over half a million people and may have p
revented an entire species from becoming extinct.
“One of the Marine units has reported that a woman identifying herself as the Grand Princess and ruler of the planet wants to speak with whomever is in charge, so she’s being brought up here on a shuttle. Does anyone know what she looks like?”
When no one spoke up, Captain Critarian said, “No? Then I’ll have someone check our database to see if they can find an image and history. Thank you for your efforts and that of your crews. You can all return to your ships now. Once we have a plan for how we’re going to help these people get reestablished, we’ll have a conference call. That’s all.”
The officers stood and walked out of the room, but as Christa started to pass Captain Critarian, the captain put out a hand and lightly held Christa’s arm. “Stay a moment, Commander. I’d like to speak with you.”
As the doors to the planning room closed, Critarian said, “I’d like you to join me in the meeting with the Grand Princess.”
“Of course, Captain.”
~ ~
The meeting was to be held in one of the smaller reception rooms aboard the enormous battleship. Captain Critarian and Christa were standing when the person identifying herself as the Grand Princess was escorted in. Her clothes were a bit dirty and ragged, but she matched the image pulled from the ship’s database so there was no reason to doubt her identity.
“Welcome aboard, Grand Princess,” Captain Critarian said as she extended her hand. The Grand Princess looked down at it, then walked past her without taking it. Critarian lowered her hand without expression. It was possible that the Grand Princess wasn’t familiar with the custom of shaking hands. She preferred to believe that rather than assuming the woman was being rude.
Christa got a good look at the woman. She was about five feet, six inches tall with pale, yellowish skin. She was thin, and her small hands had just four fingers on each. Her clothes were a bit dirty, no doubt a testament to her captivity.
The woman who had identified herself as the Grand Princess took a good look around the room before turning to face Captain Critarian. Critarian had set her translator to the main language reported to be used on Husteus.
“You are the leader of these people?” the Grand Princess asked.
“I’m the captain of this ship and in command of the taskforce sent to assist you.”
“How could you wait so long? Millions of my people are gone— probably dead.”
“We came just as soon as we heard there might be a problem and were able to get a taskforce out here.”
“This is the G.A. You’re supposed to protect us.”
“You chose to be a non-aligned planet when the G.A. took over this space after the war with the Uthlaro. You have no regular contact with the G.A., and we’re not permitted to have anyone stationed here to provide regular updates on activity. As a non-aligned planet, you’re free to do what you wish as long as you break no G.A. laws. Self-isolation does sometimes create other problems, but that was your choice.”
“You’re blaming this holocaust on me?”
“I’m not assigning blame, Grand Princess. I’m merely stating the facts.”
“I demand you establish an observation satellite in orbit around our planet so you’ll know immediately if those creatures return.”
“That’s not my decision to make, Grand Princess, so I cannot make any promises in that regard. Should you become an aligned planet, we’ll certainly establish a small outpost here and you’ll receive better protection.”
“But the G.A. will charge us a fee if we do that.”
“Ships and personnel cost money, Grand Princess. The fee goes to pay for the equipment and the salaries of the people who will protect you on a regular basis. You can remain a non-aligned planet and not pay a share of the military cost, but we can’t station people and ships out here. However, if we become aware of another invasion by Denubbewa cyborgs, we’ll get here as soon as we can.”
“But by then they might have taken the rest of the population.”
“That’s the best we can offer to planets who choose not to help cover the costs of their military protection.”
“And what of helping towards reconstruction of my planet? The enemies of the G.A. have devastated our lands, killed off most livestock, and massacred whole families. It could be years before we’re self-sufficient again.”
“I’m sorry. The G.A Charter does provide for limited humanitarian assistance and provision of emergency food, medical attention, and clean-up, but that’s as far as I can go. For the record, the species that did this are not just enemies of the G.A. They’re the enemies of every living, sentient species in the galaxy. It didn’t matter to them that you’re in G.A. space. If you’d like to record a message to the G.A. Senate, I’ll be happy to forward it.”
“If I want to send a message, I can do it myself.”
“That’s true. I merely offered because our new com system can reach Quesann in days now.”
“Days? Not weeks?”
“Days. With faster speeds to come. Within a few years we expect the transmission time between all aligned planets and Quesann will be measured in minutes.”
“Minutes? I must have one of those com systems. How many G.A. credits are required?”
“I’m sorry. They’ll only be available to aligned planets.”
“This is blackmail.”
“It’s nothing of the sort, Grand Princess. No harm will come to you from not having such a system.”
“No harm? And no help either.”
Captain Critarian just shrugged before saying, “There’s nothing I can do about that. I promise we’ll come as soon as we know of an attack and are able to respond.”
“But aligned planets get top priority?”
Captain Critarian just shrugged again. “I don’t make the rules, Grand Princess. You should direct your demands to the G.A. Senate.”
The Grand Princess snorted in anger, turned, and stormed out the door as it opened in response to her approach.
After the door had closed, Captain Critarian said, “What does she expect? That we’ll simply ignore the planets that pay to support the military so we can come here first?”
“She understands, Captain. She might simply be attempting to create an incident in an effort to achieve better terms.”
“Her planet is largely agrarian and has a low GDP. That’s taken into consideration when the tax levies are established. And now, with their population reduced by possibly eighty percent, the tax would be very low and definitely within their means if they chose to protect their planet.”
“Are we permitted to tell civilians about the new com system now?”
“No one said it was restricted information when I learned about it. And so many people know about it now that it’s not much of a secret. Oh, by the way, speaking of secrets— ”
Captain Critarian removed a gold band from the index finger on her left hand and handed it to Christa. “This is from Admiral Holt. He ordered me to give it to you personally if we were successful out here and there were CJ Gate booths that hadn’t been destroyed.”
“CJ Gate booths?”
“That’s all I know. The data ring will probably tell you everything. Holt said that you were to have authority over this entire taskforce if you needed it to complete this mission.”
“The entire taskforce, Captain?”
“Yes, including me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. You’re the boss if you need anything to complete this new mission. All of the answers should be on the data ring, Commander.”
“Aye, Captain. I’ll review it as soon as I return to the Koshi.”
~ ~ ~
“Hello, Christa,” the image of Admiral Holt said after Christa had completed the retinal image verification required by the recording. “Captain Critarian was ordered to give you this data ring only if the mission there was successful. Since you’re viewing this data, at least one Personnel CJ Gate bo
oth survived the fighting. You are being given complete authority on this project and can call for any resources you require.
“Now to the heart of the matter. Our people here continue to make excellent progress on the CJ Gate project. We’ve now mastered the programming of the control unit that operates each Personnel CJ Gate. We can enter a location code into the Gate destination field and activate a transfer, although we naturally haven’t initiated any transfers yet. Once we do that, the Denubbewa might learn of it and begin making changes to the code that would render our current decipher useless. We need to learn much more before we initiate any activity with the booths. Our principal effort at this time is to create a map of where the location codes will send a Denubbewa traveler. As you can imagine, that could be anywhere in the universe, depending on the amount of power available to the Gate.
“SCI has been able to get some data from an undamaged three-dot supervisor we acquired from the Ruwalchu. He hasn’t provided the information willingly, which makes us that much more sure the information is accurate. His information was that of a user, not a technician, so while we believe it to be accurate, it’s limited. To develop a map of the Gate system, we need much, much more information— reliable information. Unfortunately, once a Personnel CJ Gate is powered down, the send-code and receive-code cache information is cleared. All the booths we have at Lorense-Three and all the booths we inherited in the new space stations were powered down to keep them from being used by the cyborgs, so all the travel information has been lost. What I need you to do immediately is to make sure that any booths that haven’t yet been powered down are not powered down. Issue orders that a squad of Marines should be standing guard 24/7 to make sure no cyborgs emerge from any Gates. We don’t want our Marines to risk their lives but greatly prefer they incapacitate any incoming travelers without damaging the booth. And under no circumstances are they to tamper with the Gate or disconnect the power system.
“Next, I want you and a few of the best engineers you can round up from the taskforce ships to review the appended data manual and learn how to operate the booths. This is necessary so someone doesn’t accidentally send themselves into another galaxy while trying to download the cached information. Then, knowledgeable individuals must visit each and every one of the booths on the planet and make a record of the last send-codes and receive-codes in the booth’s memory areas. This information could be invaluable in helping us track down the locations of Denubbewa bases or even their main headquarters. Once we feel secure that our information is accurate, we may be able to launch an attack on the Denubbewa for a change. I’d love to turn the tables on those metal-heads.
The Invasion Begins Page 27