Sullivan Saga 3: Sullivan's Watch

by Michael K. Rose

  13

  GENERAL WILLIAM ADAMS scanned the reports ticking by on his monitor. The wormholes were appearing in more and more cities and had even been seen in some smaller towns. Even more disturbing, a new type of enemy was now coming through. The animalistic creatures were bad enough, but they weren’t armed. Ground troops were now encountering actual alien soldiers. They were fully covered by armored suits. Fortunately, they couldn’t withstand hits from energy weapons, assuming the range wasn’t too great. Unfortunately, shots from solid projectile rifles and handguns seemed to be completely useless.

  Adams had seen footage from one of the encounters. The aliens had four limbs and walked upright. In fact, because they were completely obscured by their suits, there could easily have been humans inside but for one notable fact: they stood, on average, around seven feet tall.

  The weapons they carried seemed to be remarkably similar to the energy weapons humans had developed in terms of function, but their range and power was significantly greater. They had somehow been able to overcome the limitations that made solid projectile weapons still the better option for human foot troops. The increased range of the alien weapons meant that the soldiers who were armed with energy weapons had difficulty getting close enough for them to be effective.

  Now, however, the Army was running into a supply problem. All the energy weapons had been issued and, as the fighting escalated, the battery packs were being depleted more quickly than they could be recharged. Tanks and other vehicles with high-caliber weapons were being used where possible, but because the alien soldiers were infiltrating populated areas, expanding the use of these weapons would lead to civilian casualties.

  General Adams heard a commotion outside his office. A second later, a frantic knocking came at the door.

  “Come in!”

  His secretary threw open the door. “Sir, we have a problem.”

  As soon as she spoke, the reports began appearing on his monitor. Enemy soldiers had infiltrated the base. The Army had, of course, taken extensive steps to guard the perimeter, but it appeared the aliens had opened wormholes inside the base itself.

  General Adams began contacting his subordinates, trying to get a better idea of what was going on. He could see, from various cameras, that there was heavy fighting in three separate locations.

  One camera angle showed him the active wormhole. In under a minute, two dozen alien soldiers came through. As soon as they were clear, the wormhole disappeared. Adams tried contacting Colonel Jansen, who was in that area, but was unable to raise him.

  On another camera, he spotted the wormhole again. It was up against the side of the command center. The aliens made quick work of the guards outside and moved in.

  Adams shot up and grabbed the energy rifle he’d stowed in the closet. He clipped on a belt with extra energy packs and a couple of grenades then stepped into the outer office and began calming the men and women there. They worked desk jobs and had received little field training. “All of you, get inside my office,” he ordered.

  Adams left the outer office and made his way into the hallway. The MPs guarding the top floor of the command center glanced nervously back at him. Adams noted that they were armed with standard rifles. “The two of you, get in there and keep those people calm and quiet.”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m the only one with a weapon that can hurt these things. I’ll try to lead them away.”

  “Sir, I can’t allow that,” said one of the MPs.

  Adams glared at the man. “That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The two men went into the office, and Adams closed the door behind them. He knew the automatic locks wouldn’t stand up to fire from an energy weapon, but he hoped he’d be able to keep the aliens from trying to gain access.

  General Adams walked over to the stairwell and opened the door with his access card. He put his head inside and heard the sound of someone—or something—coming up the stairs. The aliens couldn’t gain access to the elevators without a keycard and an eye scan, so it made sense that they’d blow the locks to the stairwell door and come up that way.

  Somewhere down below, men started yelling. The voices were quickly followed by the sound of rifles firing and the discharge of energy weapons.

  Adams felt for one of the grenades on his belt. The sounds of fighting died away, and the footsteps resumed. Based on the sound, the enemy soldiers were on the floor directly below him. Adams pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it down before slamming the stairwell door shut.

  The explosion shook the floor and, after waiting for the cloud of smoke to be sucked out by the air vents, Adams reopened the door and quietly made his way down the stairs. Half a flight down, the sprinkler system came on, muffling the sound of his descent.

  There were three aliens on the landing between the floors. Two of them were dead, and the third appeared to be badly injured. Adams watched as a pool of brownish-black fluid pooled beneath the alien’s body and was carried away by the water from the sprinklers.

  The sound of more footsteps, these moving much faster, came to him from below. Adams sprinted down the rest of the way to the floor below. He reached for his keycard but stopped as he saw that the door had already been blown open by an energy discharge. He didn’t know if there were alien soldiers on the floor, but there were definitely more coming up the stairs.

  Adams pushed the door open and scanned the hallway. He counted four bodies on the floor. Movement at one end of the hallway caught his attention. An alien soldier had emerged from one of the doorways and paused momentarily as it caught sight of him. Adams, his energy rifle already at the ready, squeezed off a shot and caught the alien squarely in the chest. It fell backward and convulsed twice before it was finally still.

  A flash of movement through the window in the stairwell door made him turn. Another alien was climbing the stairs. Adams unclipped his other grenade, pulled the pin, cracked open the door and lobbed the grenade through.

  He retreated halfway down the hall and ducked into a recessed doorframe as the grenade exploded. He peeked out and saw that the stairwell door had been blown open, mangled so badly that it couldn’t be closed again.

  That was well enough. If he had any hopes of protecting the people above, he would have to draw the attention of any more aliens who came up the stairs.

  Adams pulled a metal desk from one of the offices and pushed it onto its side. It wouldn’t provide much protection, but it would keep the aliens from getting a clear shot at him. From his angle, he could see the stairs leading down. He’d be able to spot the heads of the tall aliens as they rounded the bend.

  He didn’t have to wait long. He fired off a shot as the helmet of an alien came into view. It fell backward down the stairs but was soon replaced by another who moved quickly, hugging the wall and disappearing into the blind corner just below the last flight.

  Adams trained his gun on the spot where the alien would have to come into view if it moved farther up the stairs. Something did come into view, but it wasn’t the head of the alien. A black cylinder with a flashing red light on it flew through the air, struck the doorframe and bounced into the hallway.

  Adams saw the alien dive down into the other section of stairs for cover, and he did the same, dropping to the floor behind the desk and crawling as far away as possible.

  It took him only a second after the explosion to realize that he was injured. The metal desk was mangled beyond recognition, and bits of shrapnel were imbedded in his legs and backside.

  Adams flipped over onto his back despite the pain and brought his energy rifle up. He fired a round into the stairwell as he saw movement. Using one arm and his legs, he pushed himself along the floor, toward the recessed doorway he’d taken refuge in before. A trail of blood stained the tile floor of the hallway as he dragged his nearly useless legs around the side of the wall with his arm then readjusted his position so he was on his side and could bring his rifle up to his shoulder.

/>   Adams poked his head—and his rifle—around the corner and fired at the alien that had just stepped through from the stairwell. He hit it in the region of the knee, severing the alien’s leg as the blast of energy blew part of it away. The alien fell but was quickly replaced by one of its comrades. This one fired several rounds toward Adams, forcing him to retreat back into the alcove.

  He heard a beeping sound and, before he had time to wonder, knew what was causing it. Another of the alien grenades landed in front of him. Adrenaline powered through the pain in his legs, and he jumped up and through the door into the office. He kicked the door shut with his foot and dove to one side as the grenade went off, splintering the door and shattering the glass in the window opposite.

  Adams limped to the window and looked down. He was too high to escape that way, but he noticed a dozen alien soldiers standing outside, guarding the entrance to the command center.

  He only had seconds to act. The aliens inside the building would be preparing to storm into the room, but he knew he could still do some damage to the enemy. He raised his rifle and took aim at the aliens below. He dropped three of them then spun around at the sound of movement at the doorway. He didn’t have a chance to fire. The alien soldier already had his rifle raised and aimed at Adams’s chest.

  General William Adams nodded, closed his eyes and took his last breath.

  14

  A KNOCK CAME at the door of his quarters, and Commander David Pickett got up from him bunk. He opened the door and was greeted by Lieutenant James Kern. Pickett returned Kern’s salute then shook his hand.

  “How are you, Jim?”

  “Could be better.” Kern pulled the chair out from the desk as Pickett sat back down on his bunk.

  “Yeah… me, too,” said Pickett. “So where were you when the alien ship exploded?”

  “I’d ejected, like you. My ship was hit early in the battle, and I had reached a safe distance before it blew.”

  “You know no one else made it, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Pickett picked up the tablet sitting on his bed. “A few others ejected successfully but were killed before their chairs got them to safety.”

  “I saw one of them. It was Underwood, I think. I saw him eject, but the alien fighter that had hit him just retargeted the chair and fired a missile at him. He was out of the fight, Dave, and they killed him anyway.”

  Pickett nodded. “This battle… I feel like it was a test, you know? Like they wanted to see what we could do, gather as much information as possible. That’s why they let our first few salvos just hit their shield.”

  “I thought they already did that with Mars.”

  “But we didn’t have a carrier around Mars at that time. Whatever information they got from that attack was apparently incomplete. Maybe they were just trying to see if we had any defensive shielding around our cities like the ones protecting their ships.”

  “So you think they could have done more damage here?”

  “If they’d hit us hard right when they showed up, before the Valiant got into range? Yes. And I think that’s what the next one is going to do.”

  “You heard what’s going on down on the surface?”

  “Yes.”

  “Actual alien soldiers now, not just those weird creatures.”

  Pickett sighed. “Jim, I just got out of a briefing with Admiral Long. General Adams’s headquarters were overrun. The general is believed to be dead. They’re targeting the command structure on the ground. Units are being cut off from one another, and the aliens keep moving the locations of the wormholes. There’s no way to predict where they’ll show up. They can even appear behind defensive lines if they want. This isn’t going our way, either up here or down there.”

  Kern nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Anyway, the admiral told me the Izumo is coming back from search and rescue operations on Mars, and the Oberon will be leaving orbit around Jupiter. They’ve both been called to defend Earth.”

  “They’re small ships. Smaller than the Artemis and the Europa, and look what happened to them.”

  “I know. But I need to ask you something. If—when—another alien ship arrives, the admiral is going to throw everything at it, try to weaken its shield as quickly as possible. We fully expect them to have some sort of defensive capabilities we haven’t yet seen, and we’re to make sure the big missiles hit that shield to weaken it. Then, hopefully, there will be enough of us to punch a hole through the shield like before.”

  “I get what you’re saying, Dave. It’ll be a suicide mission.”

  “Probably.”

  Kern nodded. “But I don’t get why they’d send a big ship like that just to be destroyed. Why not attack in force from the start?”

  “What if they had and we’d outmatched them? They’d have had much greater casualties. This way they know exactly what to send at us the next time.”

  “Send from where? Has anyone figured out where they’re coming from?”

  “No. We don’t really know how wormholes work. Until this attack, we didn’t even know if they existed. They could be a thousand light years away or a million. I don’t suppose that matters right now.”

  “So they attack Mars then disappear. Then they attack Earth, both up here and on the ground. Why? What do they want?”

  “I don’t suppose that matters, either. But they’re going to kill all of us in order to get it.”

  “Well, there’s no way I’m going to make it easy for them.”

  Pickett smiled. “Neither am I. No matter what happens on the ground, we have a job to do up here. There are people studying the footage of the battle right now. They’re going to be setting up a simulator program with the information we know about the enemy fighters—how they move, the range of their weapons, things like that. I’m told it’ll be ready by eighteen hundred. Will you be ready for a practice run with me at that time?”

  Kern stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Pickett saluted back. “I’ll see you then, Lieutenant.”

  15

  PETER AND MARCO moved quickly but cautiously, staying a good distance off the road as they made their way to the town where Marco’s family lived.

  Peter had used the time of his incarceration for study, and the history of Italy was a particular topic he’d delved into with great interest. Three hundred years earlier, the area they were now walking in had been a sprawling suburb of Rome. But it was around that time many of the major cities of Earth began to shrink, to let the countryside return to a more rural state in the interests of quality of life. Sprawling metropolises came to be seen as an eyesore and, as people moved to the new planets that were being discovered thanks to hyperspace travel, many cities began to reverse their outward sprawl and pull back to a downtown area and a few smaller suburbs. After all, to work in Rome or Paris or New York, one no longer had to live near the city. Many preferred a quieter life in smaller cities or even towns or villages of only a few thousand people.

  Throughout much of the world, the past one hundred and fifty years had seen a return to “traditional” architecture. The world was now unified politically, but people still wanted to hold on to some aspects of their heritage. There was no more immediate way to connect with one’s roots than to live in a home whose design predated the homogenization of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.

  As they walked, Peter noticed that the trend was in full force in this part of Italy. In the distance, a kilometer or two off the main road, Peter could see small villages that, aside from the vehicles on the streets and a few other modern details, could have existed in the nineteenth or early twentieth centuries. Some structures harkened back even further, to the late Medieval or Renaissance periods, in an attempt to give the villages a sense of antiquity.

  In between the villages and the road were fields of corn, wheat and other grains. At one point, they passed a fledgling vineyard. These were small hobby farms; most of the world’s food was grown on industrial
farms located in Argentina, Eastern Europe, India, China and North America’s Midwest.

  Peter didn’t doubt that the operations of these small farms were mostly automated. In fact, with the proper technology, there was no need for human hands to ever touch a plant, from seed to harvest. The automation of nearly all industries meant that worldwide, there was a great reduction in the demand for labor. During the early days of globalization and automation, this had led to high levels of unemployment across the world, particularly in America and Europe as manufacturing jobs moved to developing countries. Eventually, however, the workers in those countries also began to demand a living wage, and by the time the first truly global government was put in place, every human on the planet was guaranteed to be provided with the necessities of life. Some still fell through the cracks due to drug abuse, mental illness—if they were unwilling to seek treatment—or for other reasons, but the number of homeless or those living in poverty was less than two percent worldwide. Even so, those still living on Earth knew that life on some other planets was much worse, and more than one social commentator had noted that Earth and the other Stellar Assembly planets had essentially become the “first world,” and the “third world” had been shunted off to the more distant and less developed planets.

  But Peter knew that was all about to change. This invasion, from what he had seen and heard, had a very real possibility of destroying the Earth’s infrastructure, even if they ultimately defeated the aliens. When much of the planet’s population was used to working twenty hours a week in non-labor-intensive jobs, would there be the physical will to rebuild after such an event?

  Marco pulled Peter from his thoughts by nudging him and pointing at a sign next to the road. “My village. Three kilometers.”

  Peter nodded. “How big is it?”

  “Two thousand people only. The aliens won’t bother.” He grinned and clapped Peter on the shoulder.