by T. R. Harris
Luckily, service ranks were an easier fix. Most militaries on the planet had a navy, and since operations in space more closely resembled naval operations, it was decided that those ranks would apply within the new United Earth Space Force, while ground units retained their traditional Army-Air Force designations, such a private and sergeant, colonel and general.
“Commencing first run, sir.” Commander Kittle announced from his station. On the tactical screen set to the left of the main viewport, Dave saw his tiny fleet separate into three squadrons. Ten ships each sped off to flank the long line of defenders, while the remaining five warcraft, led by the San Diego, accelerated to attack speed toward the center of the defenders.
Captain Robe knew his ships had such superior speed and maneuverability that he could have avoided this encounter entirely and simply bypassed the ragtag line of defenders. But his mission was to destroy the O'mly—or as many as he could with his limited resources. Command had stopped short of calling his orders genocide, but Robe knew better. The O'mly had assisted the Kracori in their attack on the Earth by providing a staging area for the strike force. That singular act had sealed their fate, and with a billion-and-a-half Humans either dead or dying from the nuclear attack on the planet, Humanity was done playing nice with the aliens. Any race that lifted an arm, tentacle or other such appendage against the Human race—no matter how slight—would be eliminated.
Two devastating attacks on the Earth were enough. There would not be a third, even if it took exterminating every alien race in the galaxy.
Captain Robe's five ships blasted through the center of the O’mly line at such a speed that the aliens didn't even know they were under attack until the Humans were completely on the other side of the line and back into open space. Yet as the five Human ships passed through, they unleashed a deadly barrage of flash-cannon fire that ripped through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. Thirty-two alien ships either exploded or were damaged to such a degree that they were out of the battle.
The O'mly—completely inexperienced in the art of war—at first didn't know what to do. Some of their units moved away from the center of the line, while others maneuvered to close the gap made by the Humans. The confusion and lack of a coordinated command resulted in the collisions of dozens of additional units, as their primitive gravity-wells overlapped with catastrophic consequences.
When Commander Kittle had his five ships double back for another run on the disjointed defensive line, most of the O'mly had decided that pulling away from the center was the best move. This resulted in a bunching up of the alien ships into two large balls of defenders … and it was then that the other two squadrons of ten Human ships each struck from the flanks.
Over the next nineteen minutes total confusion reigned among the O'mly ships. In the end, fourteen of the defenders broke away from the battle and headed in-system, the only survivors of the three-hundred ship defensive force. Commander Kittle sent three of his ships after them, and another ten minutes passed before the entire O'mly fleet had been destroyed.
Captain Robe was satisfied with the results of his first battle in outer space. All the defenders had been destroyed and only two of his ships had taken enough enemy fire to require immediate repairs. He ordered his remaining force of twenty-three ships to head for the planet Aslon at the best possible speed, while allowing the damaged units to limp in towards the planet on their own. He was anxious to see if the O'mly had anything else to throw against them. He was pretty confident they didn't.
Six hours later—and after the destruction of a secondary defensive force of ninety ships—Dave Robe’s Human fleet took up orbiting positions above the surface of Aslon.
Immediately upon achieving orbit, Commander Kittle dispatched a swarm of drones to survey the planet, and within minutes data was pouring in.
Adam Cain’s report on the O’mly had mentioned that the planet was comprised mainly of water, with thousands of islands and atolls where the amphibious inhabitants built their cities—at least the dry-land portions of their settlements. Looking down at the blue and white globe below while scanning the data flowing in from the drones, Dave could now confirm that a good portion of the O'mly civilization was located underwater. The experts reasoned these underwater settlements wouldn’t be very advanced since it was hard to use electricity in a wet environment. What the O'mly did in their underwater cities was anyone's guess … yet the one thing it would give them would be a place to hide—at least from the flash weapons of the fleet.
“Yes sir,” Commander Kittle said, “most of the square footage of their settlements is located underwater, surrounding the land cities. We've counted thirty-five hundred settlements so far. In one way we're lucky that the underwater portion of their cities isn’t more than fifty feet in depth—in most cases—but our flash weapons won’t be able to penetrate the surface of the water. Water and electricity don't get along very well.”
“Our conventional weapons shouldn't have a problem penetrating to that depth,” Dave said.
Kittle shook his head. “That's right, sir, but we don't have nearly enough munitions aboard the fleet to bombard all thirty-five hundred of them.”
A small grimace crossed Dave’s face. “They’ll also know we came with only twenty-five ships, which is hardly large enough for an occupying force. They'll take refuge below the surface and then wait until we leave.” He was silent for only a moment while settling on his strategy.
“Get on the horn with Command, Hub, and see if they can get us the conventional armaments we need. With the main fleet gearing up for the assault on Elision, I'm hoping they'll have enough to spare us. In the meantime, begin the destruction of the O’mly surface cities using the flash-cannon. Those can be recharged, so we'll have plenty of power for that part of the mission.”
Robe turned to his second-in-command and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Send out your ships, Hub, and then set us down on the surface. I have an appointment with the planetary president, czar or whatever they have here. This should get interesting.”
81
Throughout their brief time in the Aslon system, the Humans had been monitoring the communications traffic between the defenders and the planet, and as a result had a pretty good idea as to the location of the planet's central government. It was on one of the largest islands within the vast, shallow sea, and in a central cluster of buildings with one dominant structure reaching twenty stories high.
Dave took three ships down to the surface with him, and even before touching down in a vast field outside the governmental building complex, monitors revealed that the O'mly fully intended to defend their capital from the invading aliens.
Over four thousand O'mly had assembled near the entrance to the tallest of the buildings, having stacked hundreds of car-like transports and trucks into a metal barricade four cars high. Then the defenders ensconced themselves within the barricade, aiming their flash rifles and mobile cannon out windows and doors of the stacked vehicles. Captain Robe wasn't even sure if the planetary leader was in the building, yet the O'mly appeared to be going through an awful lot of trouble to guard this one particular structure.
Each of Robe's three KFV-C's carried a crew of forty-five along with a contingent of one hundred Marines, and secured within the landing bays of the ships, they also carried two armored transport vehicles with 50-caliber machine guns, along with two mobile platforms with mounted 88mm cannon. Dave watched with satisfaction as LtCol. Nathan Cruise disembarked his Marines from the three spacecraft – all three hundred of them – and rolled out the six ATV's and 88mm cannon.
Dave Robe stepped off the incline ramp from the San Diego's landing bay and placed his first step upon an alien world. He tried to take a moment to revel in the sensation, yet circumstances didn't allow him more than thirty-seconds before Colonel Cruise approached. Even then the old Army mantra kept echoing in his head: Join the Army, meet interesting people—and kill them! If ever that saying was true, it surely applied to h
is current assignment.
“We're fully-disembarked and assembled, Captain.”
Dave could have sworn that the Marine Lieutenant-Colonel was near sexual arousal at the moment. He decided to give him some leeway; Marines were trained to fight, not sit for weeks aboard a cramped spaceship waiting for the action to begin.
“So I take it your men are ready for this, Colonel?”
Cruise fashioned an almost sinister smirk on his face. “The deadliest weapon in the galaxy is a pissed off nineteen-year-old Marine, sir, and I have plenty of those to go around.”
“I have no doubt, Colonel. You're in command of the assault; just leave me someone to negotiate with.”
“I didn't think our mission here was to negotiate, sir. I thought it was to kick-ass and take names.”
“It is, Colonel, and you're the tip of the sword. But we need to leave someone alive to spread the word about the consequences of siding with the wrong party in this war.”
“I'm sure they'll be plenty of these water-sucking bastards to tell the tale.”
“Be careful, Nathan. You've seen the pictures of their eight-inch long talons.”
“We don't intend to get that close, Captain. Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have some aliens to kill.”
Out of nowhere, a command tent had sprung up in the field near the San Diego; Captain Robe and his staff took positions inside at a bank of computer monitors sitting on folding tables. A dozen drones had taken to the air and were now monitoring the battlefield from above.
What Dave first noticed about the line of defenders was that nearly all of them were now hidden within the barricade of stacked transports. Even though he was no land-based tactician, he was pretty sure that may have been a mistake.
It didn't take long for his suspicions to be validated.
The flash weapons employed by the aliens had a maximum effective range of just under a mile, and that was just the rare cannon they possessed. The hand-held rifles and handguns could only reach out to about a hundred yards or so. On the other hand, the Human 50-cal, 88mm and grenade launchers had a much longer range, especially in the three-quarter gravity of Aslon. So when Colonel Cruise unleashed his barrage against the defensive line of the O'mly, the aliens—natives in this case—had no defense except to hunker down and take it.
Unfortunately, the meager cover the stack of vehicles provided served only to entomb the defenders in coffins of hot, twisted metal. The barricade literally exploded high into the thin air as round after round tore into it. The boom of the 88's, the rat-tat-tat of the 50-cal’s and the thundering cacophony of grenades exploding—all within a concentrated area—was absolutely deafening.
Fortunately, the barrage didn’t last long, even though Dave's ears would be ringing for hours afterwards. After only five minutes of intense fire, Colonel Cruise called for a ceasefire, not so much to assess the condition of his troops, but rather to let the smoke clear so they could better sight their targets.
There was quiet stillness among the Human Marines as they witnessed the results of their initial attack. The once tall wall of stacked transports was now in total disarray, with burned out hulks strewn about the courtyard in front of the tall government building, burning rubber tires sending up multiple towers of dense, black smoke above the now quiet battlefield. A central corridor had been blown free of most obstructions leading up to the entrance of the central building, and there were dead O'mly everywhere. In five short minutes, easily eighty percent of the four thousand defenders had died … and not a single Human had suffered even a scratch.
It was then that Dave noticed on the monitors a large number of O'mly running to his right towards the sea. He watched in amazement as the natives dove head first into the ocean. The drones overhead showed an elaborate maze of structures just below the surface. The O'mly—gyrating their bodies like dolphin—dove deeper into the murky waters and disappeared.
Dave grimaced. His mission was to destroy the O'mly race, or at least as many as he could. Watching the natives dive below the surface meant that many more would survive than he had anticipated. Still, Dave Robe would make a lasting impression on the homeworld of the O'mly. They would never forget this day—just as the Humans had a couple of memorable days of their own they would never forget....
Captain Dave Robe now began to assemble his diplomatic entourage, which included LtCol. Cruise and fifty of his Marines, and as he began to make his way towards the entrance of the building which the natives had fought so vainly to defend, all he could think of was: Ain't payback a bitch?
The Marines entered the building first, and immediately encountered more close-quarters resistance from within. Robe stood back and watched as the young Human warriors effectively sent suppressing fire into the pockets of hapless defenders.
At one point, a skinny private first class got ambushed by five O'mly, each attacking with their talons—essentially eight-inch long fingernails at the tips of two of their fingers, making a total of four deadly spikes from each attacker. The young Marine brushed aside two of the O’mly with his M27 assault rifle before being knocked to the ground by the other three aliens; he lost his weapon and had to resort to hand-to-hand combat. And this was when things got really strange....
In the light gravity of Aslon, the Marine was lightning quick and able to fend off every blow sent his way by the aliens. At one point, the young warrior even let out a little laugh at the ease with which he was defending himself. He then grabbed one of the O'mly around the neck, and with a squeeze of his hand, collapsed the creature's windpipe. And then a few super-powerful fist-blows later—some of which nearly ripped off the faces of the aliens—the young Marine was soon standing in the center of the bloody remains of all five of his attackers.
Now covered in alien blood, the blond Marine clenched his fists, threw back his head and let out a primal Oo-rah as loudly as he could.
His call was soon joined by a chorus of more echoing shouts from throughout the vast central lobby of the building. The battle was over ... and only two marines had suffered minor puncture wounds; their scars soon to become badges of honor they would carry with them for the rest of their lives.
Suddenly, all the Humans became aware of more movement coming from one of the elevators at the far end of the room. A group of eight O'mly now stood at the door, their faces covered with what could only be described as white surgical masks.
“Hold fast!” Colonel Cruise ordered. These O'mly were different; they wore ceremonial robes and appeared to be much older than the others. Captain Robe and his entourage approached the aliens; Cruise's men swarmed over the natives, searching for weapons and explosives. When none were found, they stepped aside and let their commander advance.
The O'mly in the center of the group stepped forward. “I am Isnar Beh, Ulnish of the O’mly people,” he said by way of introduction. “Why have you done this? Why have you attacked us so viciously and without provocation?"
Dave and his men had been fitted with universal translation bugs years ago—it was now required on Earth that all children be fitted as well—so he understood the alien’s language. “This is what you get for siding with the Kracori.”
“We did not side with them,” the O'mly leader countered emphatically.
“You helped them stage their attack on the Earth. Where I come from, that's joining the enemy. And for that, you’re classified as an enemy of Humanity—just as the Kracori.”
“Before the Klin came—and then the Kracori—we had never heard of your Earth before. After that, all we had to go by was what we were told.”
“Is that why you wear the masks?”
“Yes. Is it not true you carry diseases, virulent, deadly diseases?”
“Not any more than you do, so you can take off those ridiculous things.”
The aliens slowly pulled down the masks to reveal knobby, green-tinted skin covering elongated faces. “Please, you must acknowledge that this is simply a misunderstanding?” Isnar said.
&nbs
p; “No misunderstanding,” Dave shouted, his anger growing by the second. “There are a billion-and-a-half Humans dead or dying because of what you helped the Kracori achieve. For that, your race has been sentenced to death.”
“We O'mly are not allies of the Kracori. They came ... and we had no choice but to help.”
“And yet you believed every word they said, even about Humans being parasites and disease carriers.” Robe shook his head. “The damage is done. Even if your participation in the attack on Earth was only peripheral, what happens to the O'mly will serve as a warning to others who want to mess with the Humans.”
“I'm afraid I do not understand the phrase 'to mess with' –”
“It means to bring harm to. The Human race has suffered enough at the hands of aliens—by creatures like you. No more. The galaxy is about to be taught a lesson, and unfortunately for the O'mly, you are our first students.”
“So you will destroy our entire race ... to make an example?”
“Not all of you; many will survive, probably millions. And you, Mr. President—or Ulnish as you call yourself—will be spared. We need you to spread the word about what happens to anyone who goes against the Humans.”
“We did not go against the Humans!” the O'mly leader pleaded, his eyes now wide and with tiny droplets of green spittle appearing at the corners of his mouth.
“You knew the Kracori were staging an attack on the Earth and yet you did nothing to stop them.”
“What could we do?” the alien cried. He was near a full-blown panic attack. “The Kracori and the Klin are much more advanced than are we. They would have just destroyed us and moved on to another race.”