Storm Assault (Star Force Series)

by B. V. Larson

  In the end, the General was right. We fired the big weapon a total of eight more times. Each shot took down a government center that was full of directors, ministers and their accountants. Then we let the survivors know how they could reach us, using the contact info we’d received from Kerr. The Imperial government of Earth sued for peace the next day.

  They’d gotten the message.

  -36-

  It was a strange experience, signing the peace accords. The Imperials were stiff and formal, wearing their dress whites and dress blacks—depending on what service they were from. The government officials wore stone gray. I thought that was the most honest color among them. They were grim, unsmiling people. They hated me and everything I stood for. Only the threat of death and the collapse of all their support had gotten them to come to the table at all.

  Over the last several days, we’d watched the Imperial government crumble. Built on a reign of terror, they could not contain their subjects once the people knew they were powerless.

  The mobs had gone wild. All over the globe, there was unrest. A dozen cities had been burned and looted. Whole regions were plagued by rioting. Countless officials and collaborators had been dragged through the streets and hung. The Imperial military dared not intervene. We’d contacted the top brass and let them know we could find them and kill them—thanks to General Kerr’s database.

  I hoped that today’s formal proceedings would put a lid on the unrest, but it was faint hope. My forces were ill-equipped to police billions of enraged citizens.

  The worst concern I had was embodied in the obvious question: what next? As has happened so often in history, we’d been focused entirely upon winning the battle, rather than on dealing with the aftermath.

  I’d never wanted to rule Earth. But now, for however long it would be until I could give up the reins of power, I’d been placed in that position. I was it—there was no one else for the job.

  By the second droning hour of conferences and speeches, I was getting bored. My fist was firmly mashed into my cheek, propping up my head. Jasmine was sitting next to me, and she constantly whispered to me, urging me to sit up and appear interested. She was like a mom at church.

  I knew she was right. The whole world really was watching live on the net. So I tried, but feigning alertness for so long was more than I could manage.

  Things didn’t get interesting until we were finally down to pulling out fancy pens and passing papers around. The signing itself wasn’t the interesting part. It was who showed up to do the deed that grabbed my attention.

  Crow appeared. We hadn’t found him all week, despite following every lead in Kerr’s database and threatening dozens of security people. We knew he had his own private guards, and that he’d built ways to get into and out of most of the major buildings privately. I immediately suspected he’d used just such a secret entrance to crash the party today.

  I sat up ramrod-straight. There he was, no more than fifty feet away. I knew I could leap over the tables that were interposed between us and this white-suited fiend. I imagined ripping off that peaked hat, encircled with golden olive leaves. The ripping off of things would not stop there.

  “Kyle!” Jasmine whispered harshly.

  I felt the tiny weight of her hand gripping my wrist. I glanced at her, then went back to staring at Crow. The muscles in my cheeks were clenched up painfully tight.

  “Don’t do anything,” she said. “We’ve won. It’s almost over.”

  I must have looked to her like some kind of guard dog about to charge and bite an intruder. She was right in her assessment, I was about to charge.

  Crow had ordered a number of assassins to kill me. They’d taken down close lieutenants and even my girlfriend in their failed attempts. He was an evil man.

  “He might have come here to provoke you,” she said. “He’s tricky.”

  I glanced at her again but still said nothing. I was thinking about what I’d do with him after this treaty was signed. We’d promised not to execute the surrendering leaders, of course. They were to be tried and imprisoned in some cases, but not executed.

  But that was only a promise. Like many people in my position before me, I was already thinking of ways to fix such mistakes—to make people I didn’t like disappear.

  I shook my head, forcing myself to gaze down at the desk. The cameras were still on me, I could feel them. They were eating this up. Everyone on Earth knew how things were between Jack Crow and me. Obviously, it was personal.

  Crow picked up the pen when it came to his turn to sign. Like all of them, he had a pen in one hand, a raft of papers before him, and a lot of microphones under his nose.

  He stared at the pen for a moment, but didn’t sign. He looked up at me instead.

  For the first time in years, we looked into one another’s eyes. He just stared at me for several seconds, expressionless.

  Then, he smirked. It was a small thing, a twist of the lips with half his mouth. But it was there. A knowing, jeering smirk.

  My knees tightened, causing my butt to lift about six inches off my chair. Immediately, Jasmine tightened her grip on my wrist.

  It was hopeless for her to attempt to restrain me, of course. I had many times her strength. I could barely feel her touch in my current state of mind. She was saying something. A mantra of quiet, wise words that fell on me like raindrops, washing off my mind. I had no idea what she was saying, but I made an effort to calm down.

  She was right, I realized. He was mocking me, trying to provoke me. Why else give me a sly smile? There was no benefit in it for him.

  So, I sank back down.

  Crow frowned slightly. He glanced at Jasmine, then back at me. Then he gave a small shake of the head. I took this to mean he’d decided to dismiss me from his thoughts.

  He lifted the pen at again, letting it hover over the papers. He did not touch the tip to the official-looking pile of documents, however. There were countless ribbons and seals—he ignored them all.

  At last, he put the pen down. A susurration went through the chamber. People murmured and stirred, talking to their neighbors. Crow leaned forward, grabbed the nearest microphone, and dragged it closer. He cleared his throat.

  “I would like to say something,” he said. “I would like to speak to the people of Earth. To those who are about to make a huge mistake.”

  This action was not in the script, naturally. All around us, guards gripped their weapons, officials stared coldly, and people talked to one another.

  “I’m sorry,” he said loudly. “This won’t take long. Please indulge me for a brief moment.”

  People settled down, but not me. I wanted to kill him more than ever. Jasmine was talking quietly into her com-link conferring with everyone involved.

  “The Imperial officials are apologizing,” she whispered to me. “They say this is not their doing. He came in without guards, and our people let him in here because his name is on the signing list.”

  We’d had to put his name on the list. As he was the head of state, it only made sense. He’d been in hiding for nearly a week, and I figured he’d probably stay in his rat-hole, wherever it was, until this was over. But I’d been wrong.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Let him talk.”

  “This mistake I’m talking about,” Crow continued, “it’s the same mistake I made years ago. You’re considering replacing me with the rebel known as Colonel Kyle Riggs. I can understand that. He’s like a new, tougher dog that has come into the pack and frightened all the other dogs.”

  “He can’t call you a dog,” Jasmine hissed. “That’s not going to play well in a lot of countries.”

  “What do you suggest?” I asked her.

  “You could have him arrested and dragged from the chamber.”

  I looked at her. She was serious. It might cause a fresh round of riots, but things were looking less organized every moment.

  “Excuse me,” Crow said loudly addressing me directly. “Do I have your attention
, Colonel? Am I boring you? I’m talking about the fate of Earth, here.”

  “Go ahead and talk, Jack,” I called back, unable to help myself.

  There it was again. That sly, half-smile. Like he knew something I didn’t. Like I was the fool, playing into his hands. That expression sent a fresh jolt of rage through me.

  Crow stood up. He lifted his hands toward the crowd and the cameras.

  “I’ll sign,” he said. “It’s my death warrant, and it will lead to the end of humanity, but I’ll sign. If you all want this new dictator, this foolish tyrant who doesn’t care about your lives, who doesn’t care about his own women or his friends—who doesn’t even care enough to save his own children—”

  That was it. I was up and out of my chair. I saw marines all around me come alive, following me, but I waved them back.

  I launched myself over the table. I think Jasmine tried to stop me, but she didn’t have a hope in hell of even slowing me down.

  -37-

  The table I’d been sitting at went up and over. I was on my feet and marching to where Jack stood smiling, eyebrows riding high. His hands were uplifted like a priest doing a benediction.

  “Here we are,” he said. “I want you all to bear witness to the violence inherent in this man. He can’t take criticism. Why do you all think I never promoted him to the rank of General? Because he was a poor officer—a narcissist, a megalomaniac. All I want to do today is set the record straight before I’m dragged off somewhere and put to death.”

  I stopped my march before I reached him. I suddenly understood what was happening. I saw clearly what he was doing, why he wanted to provoke me: He was setting me up for later. He wanted me to attack him.

  We had a long history of coming down to fistfights, and I wanted to hit him right now more than at any point in our sordid past. But it was a trap. After today, if Crow quietly had a heart attack in his cell, the public would forever believe I’d ordered it.

  And they would probably be right.

  It was my turn to nod to Emperor Jack Crow. I didn’t smile, because I couldn’t make my facial muscles do that right now. But I did nod with a steely gaze. I wanted him to realize I knew what he was up to, and that I wasn’t going to play his game.

  Crow looked mildly disappointed, but he wasn’t through yet.

  “May I speak?” he asked me. “Or is this just a mockery? I’m willing to sign these documents, but I feel I must express myself to the people. I would rather submit to their judgment than to the mercies of a conqueror.”

  I nodded briefly. I figured I’d let him talk for a while. No one liked to listen to long, boring speeches. When everyone was getting bored, I’d shut him up and move on. If I pressed for that right now, I knew it would be all anyone remembered from this event.

  Crow turned away from me and returned his attention to the cameras and the worldwide audience. I forced myself to relax and tried to appear calm.

  “The litany of crimes Star Force has committed against this world is long and frankly unbelievable. No single entity in the history of the human species has caused so many preventable deaths. In each of these instances, Kyle Riggs, your new dictator-to-be, presided over the slaughter.”

  He proceeded to list events. He started with the South American campaign, in which we lost hundreds of millions. From there he detailed the laying waste of China, southern Florida, much of Europe and places in the Middle East. He had some good points, and some bad ones. He neglected to point out that in the early battles he himself was in charge of Star Force.

  He ended with some damning conclusions. “In the final stages, these enemies of their own species allowed a massive fleet to pass them by and fly to Earth. Star Force, a den of traitors, chose not to fight the machines. The alien fleet destroyed ours and nearly wiped out this planet. Imperial forces finally prevailed, but only after a valiant battle. That’s a story I need not repeat here, as you all know it well.”

  I was grinding my teeth, wishing I’d shoved him out of the room before he’d started. I knew that if I did so now, it would appear as if he spoke the pure truth and I feared to hear it. I hung on, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

  “And now we come to the most recent events. Trumping up a reason to attack their own homeworld directly—to attack us—Star Force fabricated an assassination plot. It was on this pretext they flew against us when we were weak, and they’ve managed to win through. Using alien technology, they have defeated us, but not the spirit of those who have survived! I urge you all to resist these invaders—”

  “That’s enough,” I said loudly, unable to withstand any more from him. “This is a peace accord. Everyone here came in the interests of obtaining a ceasefire—except for you, apparently.”

  “Peace? You dare talk of peace? You bring nothing but death and destruction wherever you go, Kyle. I have held the peace here. Millions did not die, as long as you were away. But no, that wasn’t good enough. You had to send your machine minions. When they didn’t kill us all, you invented a reason to come back to Earth in person. To do your own dirty work!”

  I opened my mouth again, but I saw Jasmine gesturing desperately. She didn’t want me to engage him in debate. She wanted me to smile and pat him on the head like a crazy old uncle and be rid of him quietly.

  But I couldn’t do it. I knew her strategy was a good one. But I wanted to tell my side of this story.

  “Twice now,” I said, “you made some reference to a trumped up reason for us to go to war with your Imperial forces. Are you attempting to claim that a roster of assassins didn’t attempt to kill me and even my girlfriend?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “I have proof, if you want to see it. I—”

  “Fantasies! Lies, invented recordings and sheer propaganda.”

  “Jack,” I said dangerously. I was losing it again, I could feel it. “I’ve heard enough from you. I think it’s time you signed those documents—or just got up and left.”

  “Again with the threats! When something or someone doesn’t go along with the master’s plan, he crushes the one who dares to speak the truth.”

  He looked at me then, instead of at the cameras. He looked me right in the eye.

  “Was that how it was with Sandra, Kyle?” he asked. “Did you get tired of her, and want to replace her? Or maybe she had too many ideas of her own. I hear you’re pretty good with those fists, and I know you assaulted her on many occasions. What happened the night you killed her and decided to blame it on me—?”

  That was as far as he got.

  I’m not an easygoing guy, I’ll admit that, but under the right circumstances, I can take quite a bit of public abuse. This was not one of those times. I’d been devastated by Sandra’s death and I couldn’t bear to hear her being used in this way. It wasn’t good enough for Crow that he’d killed her. Now he was trying to twist her death to his own advantage.

  I charged at him with arms outthrust. As I rushed in he put up his own burly arms. He had a smile playing on his face. I didn’t quite understand that. The last time we’d met in hand-to-hand, I’d given him a good beating.

  All around us, people shouted and stood up, but they weren’t quite certain what to do. The guards stepped closer, but didn’t grab Crow the way bailiffs were supposed to do when a convict went ape in a courtroom. First of all, it was me who had gone ape, not the convict. Second, I was their leader, but I wasn’t a frail oldster with white hair. I was tougher than any of them, and they knew it.

  Nanotized people move fast and the hesitation on the part of the guards allowed quite a bit of action to occur.

  With blurring speed, we met. He caught my hands with his, and I felt something odd—a stinging jolt. My right hand felt funny.

  He had something in his hand. Something small, like a prankster’s joy-buzzer. He’d nailed me with an electrical shock.

  Maybe that was supposed to put me down. It did numb my hand and weaken it, but otherwise, it only served to piss me off.<
br />
  I yanked back the shocked hand and hammered it forward again, aiming for his face. He blocked with both his hands, but my fist blasted through and he was sent reeling.

  About then, two of my marines reached Crow. They grabbed for his arms. Crow looked at me, panting.

  He grinned. I knew that grin. He was a scrapper. A lowborn bastard from down-under. He liked to fight, and right now, he was enjoying himself.

  “Afraid, Kyle?” he asked. “In the old days, men would duel for kingdoms. Don’t you want to punch me?”

  He had me there. I did want to hit him. I really, really did. I couldn’t refuse this opportunity. I knew I’d never get it again once he was safely placed in some holding cell. He’d grow old and I’d be bored to death by the bureaucratic details of running a planet. This was the only chance I’d ever get to make him pay personally for Sandra—for all of it.

  “All right,” I said. “But drop the buzzer.”

  He nodded and something fell from his hand onto the table. It was small, round and silver, about the size of a quarter.

  “You suggested a rule,” he said, “so I get one too: no hitting in the face. Let’s not end this too quickly.”

  I agreed then nodded to my marines, who reluctantly let go of Crow.

  Apparently, they didn’t move quickly enough for his taste. He punched both of them in the mouth at the same time—one with each fist—without even looking at them. His eyes were staring at me the entire time, and he was still smiling.

  My marines were caught by surprise and sent reeling away. They had broken jaws. Blood and teeth dribbled from split lips.

  Crow came toward me with absolute confidence.

  I, on the other hand, frowned in concern. Had I misjudged the situation? What if, instead of getting me to give him a beating, his real goal all along had been to fight me like this, man-to-man?

  Just before we met in the middle of the room with a hundred cameras watching, craning on tentacles and buzzing from their drone-platforms overhead, I wondered how this was going to go. I’d been thinking in terms of a traditional fistfight. A battle to beat another man down until he gave up. Such battles normally ended when one man was helpless or even unconscious.