Two types of gearing up were in work, however: weapons development and deployment, using a combination of human and Crispy technology in unique and unusual ways; and a wedding. For John Tomlinson and Sira Whitman were about to become husband and wife.
"After all,” Tomlinson had told Bang, “who knows what's going to come down in the next few weeks? Sira and I talked it over and decided we wanted to go ahead and do this. That way, no matter what happens..."
Bang nodded agreement. But he'd been surprised when the couple had asked for Piki and himself in the wedding party.
So within a couple of weeks of the initial deployment of disintegrator pistols and personal quantum shields, Bang found himself standing beside John, both in their mess dress uniforms, gazing down the aisle of the chapel as first Piki, then Sira, approached.
The chapel was full of guests, some in uniform, some in civilian formalwear, but neither man had eyes for any but one woman walking down the aisle, each gazing at a different vision of femininity. Bang had ascertained that with a quick glance at Tomlinson when Sira entered the room. She was in a pale cream gown, her hair crowned by some sort of flowering vine that Bang took to be a variety of honeysuckle, with a bouquet of white roses in her hands. He had just enough grey matter to take that in before he returned his gaze to the woman who preceded the bride.
For Piki was drop dead gorgeous. Clad in the palest turquoise blue gown, her platinum hair in an updo, and a bouquet of tiger lilies in her hands that made her copper eyes glow. No offense to John, he decided, but my girl's got the bride beat all hollow. Not that he'd agree with me, but hey.
Then Piki and Sira were beside the men, and all four turned to face the chaplain. The little ceremony was over quickly, and by the time John and Sira turned to face the chapel full of humans and Crispies, two lines of Space Marines had formed, sabers in hand, tips touching overhead. John and Sira grinned, then proceeded down the gauntlet of swords. As they passed there was a soft swishing as each pair of sabers dropped behind them. Only then did Bang offer his arm to Piki and follow the bridal couple.
The Leversons were the first to greet the newlyweds, of course. A quick but sumptuous cocktail style reception had been arranged, and John and Sira enjoyed sharing their first bites of wedding cake, as well as sharing a sip of champagne from one flute. But not before Bang had to do his bit.
"You guys know I'm not one for speeches,” he said, turning pink. “Especially gushy stuff. But I'm on deck for one now, so I'll do my best. I haven't really known these two that long, but I swear it seems like I've known ‘em all my life. God knows having to trust ‘em for a life or death mission within days of meeting them has a lot to do with that. But I'd do it again, because they're that good—not only individually, but especially together. So here's to togetherness—always.” He raised his champagne glass to the happy couple. Cheers erupted, and everyone joined in the toast.
Soon it was time for the newlyweds to leave. Generals Washington, Shelton, and Salter had wangled a brief, safe, and romantic getaway for the two, and their secure transport awaited. Only one tradition remained.
Sira flung the bouquet directly at Piki, and John shot Sira's garter, rubber band style, right into Bang's chest. Piki grinned nervously, and Bang flushed.
Then they were gone, and it was over.
Bang was put in charge of Unit Hope, given his background and education, while Tomlinson was away on his honeymoon,. Consequently he saw a good bit more of what was being developed than he otherwise might. Those NASA guys are throwing some good stuff into the mix, he decided, looking over the latest reports. They've found a way to triple the... I guess you'd call it strength?... of the quantum shields. That's good. And it's an easy retrofit, too. Ooo. Energy beam weapons. Oh, there's a nasty one, if they can get it working. Couldn't use it in atmosphere, but damn. Don't get in its way. Shit, it's more like a drill than a weapon.
And so it went for a few days. Then the Tomlinsons were back, and Bang debriefed to John.
"Very good, Bang,” John said. “It sounds great. How long until deployment?"
"The shields are already being retrofitted,” Bang informed him, “and the big cannon type energy weapons are being deployed now, both shipboard and in orbital platforms. The platforms can be remote controlled, or they can be set on automatic, locking onto enemy signature and firing."
"Excellent,” John mused. “Infantry weapons?"
"I gathered miniaturization is in work,” Bang shrugged. “It's only a matter of days."
"Even better,” John declared. “I want you—as my main gunny—to—"
"Wait—wha?” Bang blurted, in shock. “Gunny?"
"Yeah, didn't they tell you about the promotion yet? You're Hope's Gunnery Sergeant now, Bang. Reward for rescuing Piki and putting your life between her and those bullets, not to mention the cool way you analyzed and took out the Snapper scout ship. Commendations are on the way too, but the paperwork on those is slower."
Bang ran a hand through his short hair. “Shit."
John laughed. “Anyway, I want you to stay on top of this weapons development. It's your baby, anyway, now. So stay on it and just keep me in the loop."
"Yes, sir."
John shook his head. “When it's just the two of us, it's John,” he murmured. “Now, I'll bet you haven't taken time to go see that orange eyed beauty of yours the whole time I've been gone."
"Well, actually, she made dinner for me night before last. But I have been pretty busy."
"Then go take her on some sort of date now, while you can. The first briefing I got when I returned was about that new clipper ship..."
"The stealth ship?"
"That's the one. It's been out on a few test runs, and two more are nearly ready to join it. So far no sign of Snappers in the solar system, or even the near vicinity, but the mucky-mucks are anxious."
"Any word who the final crew is gonna be?"
John gave an enigmatic smile. “Dunno for sure."
Bang raised an eyebrow. “But you've got a damn good suspicion."
"Mm... maybe. Or not."
Bang grinned. “I read you loud and clear, chief. Mouth shut, permission to visit my lady."
"Permission granted, Bang. Go relax and enjoy yourself."
Piki was happy to see Bang, and told him so, in no uncertain terms, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him thoroughly as soon as he got the door closed behind him. That was something that Bang had come to definitely enjoy; unlike many Earth women, who expected him to always take the lead, Piki was now quite willing to let her feelings be known to him. In fact, recently, their relationship had heated up significantly, and the couple had spent much more private time in their quarters, either his or hers, watching television, making meals together, hugging, kissing, and caressing. And, Bang had decided, she seemed to enjoy it.
Bang knew what he was beginning to feel for Piki, and he knew it was strong and serious. What he didn't know was how Piki felt about him, or if she was, after everything that had been done to her in Scotland, remotely interested in anything more than what they already had. And he didn't have a clue how to approach the subject. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her, to disappoint her, to see those beautiful copper eyes fill with tears.
But for him the situation was becoming difficult. He'd dreamed about her four times in the last five nights, and every one of the dreams had been... stimulating. Hell, he thought, returning Piki's kiss. Downright erotic is more like it. I'm falling in love with her, and I don't have the first notion what to do about it.
So for the time, he let things continue as they were. Piki made dinner for him, which was always interesting as her lack of experience with human foods led her to try unusual combinations. But, he realized, she'd never yet had a failure, so he trusted her taste. And tonight it was another delicious success.
Then they went to see a movie and returned to Piki's apartment to talk and have a drink before Bang wandered back to his tiny, lonely quarters.
The arrival of the first Cresperian starhopper was a shock. The Oort constellation of sensors flagged it as friendly, and word flowed down the chain of command quickly. It landed in the spaceport in the Midwest, and its occupants—Dr. Mai Le Trung and her husband Gordon Stuart, as well as Gordon's four cousins and copilot and gunner Douglas Bain—were immediately hustled to SFREC and General Caleb Washington.
"Yes sir,” Mai explained, as calmly but emphatically as she could. “Biggest damn fleet I ever saw. Gordon has a simile to liken them to our fleets. They've got fighter craft, small armored personnel carriers, battleships, and fighter craft carriers. Those fighter carriers would win over the Galactic by a good order of magnitude, or more, just in size alone."
"Damn sons of bitches,” Washington cursed vehemently. “Why didn't we know about this?"
"We theorize, sir,” Gordon replied, “or rather, Major Bennett did, that the previous experiences with the Snappers occurred with what craft they had to hand in those regions of space. When those were outgunned, they got themselves organized, and then sent in the top of the line."
"How many others got away?"
"We don't know, sir,” Mai murmured, desolation washing over her as she thought of the Preconders. “Margie and Eugene Preconder got separated from the rest of their party in the mad rush to evacuate the Crispy cities, and we think the city they got lost in was one that the Snappers took out from high orbit."
"HOW high?"
"At least halfway to synchronous orbit,” Zztklknith replied.
"SYNCHRONOUS ORBIT?!” Washington rose halfway from his chair. “Dammit to hell and back, seven times over!” He moved from behind his desk and began pacing. “What about the Space Marines there?"
"Most elected to stay behind,” Gordon said quietly. “We urged them not to... I think Cherry calls it, ‘kamikaze,’ but to help form an underground resistance instead. Literally,” he added.
"Hopefully they'll do it,” Mai said, trying to remain upbeat. “Gordon's parents threw in their lot with them. I'm hoping a lot of Crispies will. Steve was talking about training the Crispies to fight. If he can overcome their natural passivity in their anger over what's happening to their planet, he just might have a chance."
"Sir,” Dianne Torres popped her head in the door, “reports of two more small Crispy vessels entering the solar system. And...” she ducked her head out for a moment, then returned. “Make that five."
"Full up?"
"Don't know yet, sir."
"So that's maybe a total of forty-two refugees,” Washington rubbed his chin. “Out of about a hundred and fifty outpost members.” He shook his head. “How fast can you lot get me a report on the Snapper ships and armament?"
"In what form?” Gordon asked.
"Whatever form is fastest,” Washington shot back.
"Within the hour, sir,” Gordon said. “We need office space, however."
"Done. Dianne, take them down to Sira's area and then send out the welcome wagon for the five other ships. Oh, and get them some coffee and food,” he added, to Mai's relief.
"Yes, sir,” his aide nodded. “Come with me, please."
"Shit. Damn it to hell,” President Waterman cursed, when the news reached him. “Better yet, damn it to whatever the Snappers’ home world is, which has gotta be pretty close to hell. How many did we lose, Caleb?” he barked into the phone.
"No idea at this point, sir,” Washington's voice responded. “The little starhopper ships are still coming in. We've got around fifty refugees at this point, we think—couple of the ships haven't landed yet, so I can't give you an exact number. But some of the people we were hoping to see, like doctors Eugene and Margie Preconder, and physician Jim Kingston, haven't arrived. We're not... sure. I'm sending the initial reports, from Dr. Trung and Mr. Stuart, to you right away."
"Good."
"Sir... do you have any initial preparatory orders?” Washington wondered. “Are we going to help, or...?"
Waterman ran his hand through his hair, distracted. “How fast can you get here to D.C.?"
"Inside an hour, sir."
"Inside...?!"
"Yes sir,” Washington's voice held a small grin in it. “Let's just say we've been VERY busy with research and development."
"Okay...” Waterman glanced at his watch. “Planetary defense meeting at the top of the hour. Bring whoever you need to brief us directly."
"We'll be there, sir."
Waterman hung up the secure phone and leaned back in his desk chair. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered in disgusted anxiety. “Well, at least it's a diversion giving us the chance to build up our capabilities. That's something, I suppose. But those poor Crispies...” Not to mention our boys and girls, he thought, a wash of desolation running through him. It was times like these when he really regretted ever even having thought about running for President.
Finally he leaned forward and punched the intercom. “Smith? Emergency Defense meeting at the top of the hour. And I do mean emergency. Include the Joint Chiefs, and tie in the allied commands via video conference."
"Yes, sir."
Waterman was only waiting for the SFREC representatives when Mai and Gordon arrived with General Washington. Sandra Fellowes was already complaining about the “misunderstanding” and how it could best be solved diplomatically rather than militarily. The video images of allied nations’ defense secretaries depicted various states of emotion ranging from boredom to annoyance as she prated on.
"Excuse me, please, Madame Secretary,” Gordon politely interrupted her tirade, “but there was no misunderstanding. My wife and I were there. The Snappers came in with an entire fleet and did not even bother contacting the planet to offer terms of surrender. They simply opened fire and began destroying."
"Are you sure about that? What did you see?” Martin Singletary demanded.
"We saw the first city destroyed,” Mai declared firmly. “And all the Crispies around me nearly passed out from the pain of the deaths."
Gordon nodded grimly. “There was no quarter given,” he said. “Some of the more recently arrived ships have brought video depicting a full scale... what is the term again, Cherry? I keep forgetting."
"Scorched earth,” Mai said in clipped tones.
"Scorched earth invasion,” Gordon informed the President, the Cabinet, the Joint Chiefs, and the allies. Waterman noted he was pale. “They were destroying everything in sight: structure, plant, animal, and sentient being. They showed no mercy, and did not recognize any attempt at surrender. They simply... slaughtered every Cresperian they came to."
"We've got to do something,” Mai added. “The Cresperians have no knowledge of warfare, no fighting skills, no stomach for fighting, and they're being overrun by demons from the bowels of hell itself."
"Come now, Dr. Trung,” Fellowes reprimanded sharply, the pitch of her voice high and grating. “Let us not use such inflammatory rhetoric. I'm sure a little diplomacy can smooth over the situation."
"Diplomacy cannot smooth over the destruction of most of the cities, with their inhabitants,” Gordon retorted, abruptly red faced and verging on anger. “One of the chief elders, a Cresperian leader, sent me off with formal orders to come here and bring back help. And it must be done soon. Do you intend to help, or will you abandon the planet?"
"He has a point,” Salter pointed out to the group assembled around the oval table. “The longer we wait, the more time the Snappers have to become entrenched. It'll be next to impossible to get them out."
"I still say we need more information,” Fellowes insisted. “I don't believe we need to fight, just negotiate."
"Dammit, Sandra,” Waterman snarled, ire peaking as the urgency of the situation wore on him, “what is it about ‘no quarter given’ that you don't understand?"
"I want to see proof,” she demanded.
Gordon pulled a DVD out of his shirt pocket and held it up. Waterman pointed to the television and player in the corner. Without a word, the Crispy walk
ed over, powered up the unit, and popped in the disk.
Moments later the room silenced as the same scenes Major Bennett had watched were depicted onscreen. Faces around the room and across the world blanched as the slaughter of desperate Cresperians played out in the video; in the background, Snapper troops could be seen using their weapons to mow down vegetation and destroy buildings. “This was transmitted from the Space Marines that remained behind,” Gordon said neutrally. “Is this sufficient?"
Just then a Crispy on the screen knelt in front of a Snapper, bowing to the ground. Without compunction, the Snapper aimed his laser at the Crispy's head, cutting a hole completely through it. The Crispy's limp body slumped to the ground.
"That was Chnrith. He was a friend of mine,” Gordon declared, voice flat.
"Oh, I see. It was just in the vicinity of our outpost,” Fellowes concluded, callously ignoring Gordon's statement. “Well, no wonder, then. It was retaliation for our invasion of their planets."
"INVASION OF—??” Salter barked. “What kind of IDIOT ARE you, woman?! Can't you see this race is only bent on conquest?"
"HOW DARE YOU!” Fellowes screamed back. “You and YOUR kind are the ones that cause all the trouble in the world! Too much testosterone, if you ask me! Damn soldiers! And now see what you've done on three other planets! If those ships had been crewed by diplomats, none of that would have happened!"
"If those ships were manned by diplomats, Sandra, they'd never get off the ground,” Singletary remarked coldly, “because not a damn one of you would know how to operate them."
"Besides,” Vice President James Robertson added, “I thought the original ships had complete complements of State Department diplomats."
"They did,” Admiral Terhune noted crisply. “And they were the first ones to die, or be taken prisoner."
"Junior, inexperienced imbeciles!” Fellowes fired.
"Two of your top proteges headed the teams, Sandra,” Washington declared icily.
"I still want more proof!” Fellowes shouted. “Until I see proof that the entire planet of Cresperia has been under unprovoked attack, I won't believe it!"
The Cresperian Alliance Page 17