"Indeed,” Tklktk agreed. “Is the... I believe you call it, the ‘paperwork,’ ready?"
"Yes sir, ma'am,” the stenographer noted, sending the document, which she'd prepared as they negotiated, to the printer. “Here you are."
She handed over two copies of the multi-page document, and Tklktk took the pen Fellowes offered him in his tentacled hand equivalent and made a series of symbols on the page on the line Fellowes indicated, on each copy. Then he handed back the pen and Fellowes signed the documents, as flash bulbs went off and cameras whirred.
Tklktk had learned to shake “hands” during the course of the negotiations, and now he and Fellowes did so. He opened his toothed beak in what Sandra assumed to be a smile, and she, too, smiled for the cameras. Then they took the treaty, turned, and disappeared into a private area.
"Dear God, the idiot bitch has signed us away,” Waterman moaned, as he watched the televised treaty signing. “She ignored every message I sent, and did as she pleased. She's turned us into slaves, for certain.” He slumped back into the leather upholstered wing chair in his private study. “What the hell do we do now?"
Later that evening, the Snappers took their leave. Amid much fanfare and goodbyes, the embassage, carrying their copy of the treaty, entered their small ship and lifted off.
Once they were high in the air, Sandra sighed. “That's over,” she said with relief. Then she perked up. “And I DID IT! Without a single damn shot being fired, I singlehandedly brought about peace between the Snappers, the Cresperians, and Earth! NOW who's in the doghouse politically!"
She and her colleagues—minus Robert Jameson, who had gotten his hands on a copy of the treaty and surreptitiously hightailed it to Washington, per Waterman's orders—stood and watched the tiny ship ascend into the heavens. A sun glint reflected off it, and for a moment it shone brightly. Beyond it could be seen the bright artificial “stars” of two fleets of starships, poised for battle. Fellowes waved a hand at them.
"Look at ‘em!” she crowed. “All that firepower, wasted! All the money to build those warships, and all we needed to do was to sit down and have a reasonable talk! It's all about peace! Peace justifies anything!"
The tiny moving star that was the Snapper shuttle disappeared in the larger star of what Sandra assumed was a Snapper carrier ship. A smile of triumph on her face, she turned back toward the diplomatic building.
"WAIT! What's that?” one of her staff members called, pointing into the night sky.
Secretary of State Sandra Fellowes turned and looked up. The triumphant smile promptly became an openmouthed expression of horror as she saw the sky directly overhead fluorescing green, the color growing brighter and brighter.
It was the last thing she ever saw, as the diplomatic facility, the ghost town, and everything around it for a full five mile radius, was obliterated by the Snapper pulsed energy projectile.
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Chapter 18
Simultaneously with the destruction of Sandra Fellowes and her vaunted team, the Snapper ships in orbit opened fire on ALL major Earth cities. However, despite their heavy duty weapons, the Snappers’ beams fell short of their targets in most instances. A few cities in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa were destroyed, but the total number was less than half a dozen.
Still, a horrified Commander in Chief of Earth's Space Fleet thought, that's several million people, right there. Wiped out with no compunction, and no regard for their word of honor.
"BATTLE STATIONS! Cease fire has been broken!” Admiral Terhune shouted then. “ALL SHIPS, POSITION YOURSELVES TO PROTECT THE CITIES, AND OPEN FIRE!"
Low Earth orbit was suddenly filled with searing energy beams, as Snappers attempted to destroy the population centers of the planet, and humans attempted to stop them.
"Hang on, guys!” Tomlinson cried. “Maneuvering to intercept and block Snapper attacks! Looks like they reneged on their agreement as soon as their people were out of range! Fire when ready!"
Bang was thankful he was strapped in as the Columbia executed a hard translational maneuver. He grabbed Piki in one arm and Peggy in the other to keep them from being thrown across the gunnery room. As soon as the ship came to a stop, he released them. “Get back in the MASH room!” he exclaimed, and they ran for the hatch. “All gunners! Target and prepare to open fire on my command!"
"Aye, Gunny!"
"On it!"
"Let ‘er rip, Bang!"
"FIRE!"
The port side gunners of Columbia opened up on the nearest Snapper ships, which included three battleships and two carriers. Two battleships were torn apart in seconds. One of the two carriers was severely crippled; it appeared unable to release its cargo of smaller ships. Bang brought it into his sights, scanning carefully; a deliberate sequence of three disintegrator shots took out essential systems, and the huge carrier exploded like some titanic bomb, part of its remains obliterating on the Columbia's quantum shielding.
But before the humans could react further, the Snappers turned their weapons on... the satellites orbiting Earth. In seconds entire satellite constellations were so much orbital debris.
"Shit!” Tomlinson cursed. “Word coming down from the flight deck is that comm is down, ‘cause they got our satellites! That must've been the WHOLE POINT of the peace talks and having them televised! They NEVER intended to keep a peace treaty! They were just using it, scoping out which satellites were communications links, which were military, the whole works! We had a blind spot!"
"Do we even know if that was the ‘ambassador's’ signature on the treaty?” Bang grumbled. “It's not like any of us can read Snapper. For all we know, he could have been writing,” he broke off, then finished with a marginally more sedate, “uh, ‘Eff you.’”
"John!” Piki called from the door of the MASH room. “The unreality communications! Are all the ships outfitted?"
"Brilliant, Piki!” Tomlinson replied, keying his mike. “Port gunnery unit to Bridge. Crispy liaison suggests linking via unreality comm. On those ships not so outfitted, recommend using any available unreality link, including tank and personal units, then relaying to the bridge through internal comm. Yes sir. Thank you, sir, I will.” He grinned at Piki. “Good job, liaison."
Piki beamed. Bang shot her a brief grin before returning his attention to firing at Snapper ships. It was just then that the spacecraft carriers opened, releasing tens of thousands of troop ships and fighter craft.
"Aw, dammit,” Tomlinson groaned.
"Hunker down, crew!” Bang ordered. “The more of ‘em we get up here, the less of ‘em get down to the surface!"
On the dark side of Earth, which happened to be the Western Hemisphere, the heavens were bright instead of dark. Brilliant streaks of different colors shot through the heavens, and an aurora filled the sky: So much energy was being released by the weapons that Hawking radiation was being generated. As it impinged on the atmosphere, the skies lit up from pole to pole, with the energy beams visible through the aurora's haze. Occasional explosions added to the light show.
Even on the sunlit side, the skies hazed, with faint, flickering rainbow hues visible in the atmosphere, and laser beams and detonations rippling across the sky, competing with the sun.
Black spots appeared in the multicolored haze, and ground troops prepared as the spots resolved into Snapper troop carrier vessels.
"GET ‘EM!” Terhune shouted orders as fast as he could get breath. “Take out every damn Snapper ship, runabout, fighter, whatever, as fast as you can! Get word to the ground over the quantum comm to get ready, they've got incoming! Have the Space Marines on board ships get ready in case they have to go planetside! MOVE!"
The gunners aboard the starships worked hard, but there were simply too many tiny ships, and not enough time to tell fighter from troop ship. The Indian ship, the Chariot of the Gods, evidently hadn't had time to properly outfit themselves with the quantum shields; a PEP discharge struck the vessel amidships, and it split in two, th
e halves venting gases and bodies, as sparks and detonations ran throughout the pieces.
"We're getting overrun!” Terhune decided, watching the battle. “Bain! Close up ranks for the Indian ship! Comm! Have the maximum number of Space Marines ready to move planetside. We can set the gunnery on auto if we have to. Put the orbital cannons on maximum! Send the clipper ships after the troop runabouts!"
The small, swift, spheres promptly went invisible and darted about, just above the mesosphere. Their presence was only detectable by the destruction of Snapper troop ships in wide swaths of space.
Around the globe, Snapper ships were landing in rural areas. Any that got too close to shielded cities were taken out by automated cannon, but more rural areas were being overrun, despite the best efforts of military units around the world. The Snappers seemed in particular to prefer targeting smaller towns, which had not been shielded due to limited resources.
The 101st Division took on the defense of the upper Southern United States. But they were spread thin, from the Ohio River on the north, the Mississippi River on the west, and the Tennessee River on the south and east.
In a little town called Olive Grove, just over the Mississippi state line from Memphis, a unit battling a particularly heavy infestation of Snappers was horrified to see one Snapper soldier decapitate a fleeing civilian, then run to catch the head. It sliced off the top of the skull with its laser pistol, then dug its beak into the pale, convoluted tissue of the exposed brain, eating several large bites before casting the skull away. Blood and neural fluid dribbled from its beak as it sought another target.
A concussion rifle returned the favor, scrambling its brain and internal organs before it could take another step. The Snapper fell to the ground, orange fluid seeping from all orifices. The stench was horrible.
"Dear GOD!” the unit leader cried into his radio. “They're CANNIBALS! We need help here! We can't fight and keep the civilians safe, too! We'll be overwhelmed!"
"We've got a two front war going on here,” Singletary told his President. “Space and ground. And I do mean ground. As in the whole planet."
"How bad?” Waterman asked, dreading the answer.
"Well, aside from multiple reports that animal brains aren't the only kind the Snappers like—"
"Oh, dear GOD,” Waterman whispered fervently, turning pale.
"...Several field positions are flatly being extended far beyond their capabilities. They can't protect the civvies and fight, too.” Singletary gazed solemnly at Waterman. “Tom, we've got to bring the enhanced Marines in. We've GOT to."
Waterman stared back for a long moment, then nodded. “All right, Martin. Call Terhune and report the situation. Request help. We did have contingency plans for this, right?"
"We did, sir."
"Initiate them."
Tomlinson listened carefully to the orders being issued in his ear. He gestured Peggy and Piki out of the MASH room as he moved over to Bangler.
"Bang,” he said, “tell your gunners to set everything on auto."
"WHAT?!” Bang said, startled. “No offense, sir, but it's one thing to have a brain behind the cannon, analyzing and targeting strategic points on the other ship, and another to have a computer doing it."
"I know, but we're needed downstairs,” Tomlinson explained. “The Snappers are overcoming the regular troops, especially in the more populated areas. They can't do crowd control, rescue, and fighting all at the same time. They're spread too thin. Some of the civvies are joining in—kind of creatively, from the sound—hand guns, shotguns, Molotov cocktails, even homemade grenades and cannons. And that helps, of course, but there's a lot of panic down there, too."
"Got it. Gunners, place cannons on full auto,” Bang ordered into his own headset. “Once you've done so, report to gunny sergeant station.” He turned his attention back to Tomlinson as the other gunners began making their way toward them. “So we're taking a tender down to the surface?"
"Along with as many of the other enhanced Space Marines as can be spared from shipboard ops,” Tomlinson confirmed. “We're to report to Mac's area immediately for debarking. Let's go."
"What about Piki?” Bang asked, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder.
"What about her?"
"Should she go to sick bay to help out, just in case?"
"Sick bay? No. She's part of White Horse now, Bang. She goes where we go."
"No,” Bang groaned. “She's safe on the ship. Don't send her into that."
"You would have me stay behind when you are in danger, Bang-bang?” Piki said, one blonde eyebrow raised over stern copper eyes. “You know better than that."
"I..."
"Will do just as well as you will,” Piki declared firmly. “Now, let us go."
As they headed for the Special Forces area, Bang told his wife, “Remember way back after we rescued you, when you were deciding how you wanted to look?"
"Yes?"
"You said you weren't strong."
"Yes..."
"I TOLD you, you were wrong."
Piki laughed.
As tenders detached from every Earth starship, headed back planetside, the Snappers’ heavily damaged forces renewed their onslaught, attempting to target the tenders. Cannons from the tenders’ parent starships, some automated, some not, opened up on the battleships and carriers.
One Snapper ray found a vulnerable spot in the HMSS Lord Nelson's shielding just as the tender passed through. The energy beam made its way in to the hull, slamming the ship sideways as the hull tore open. But nothing vital was hit, and the Lord Nelson limped on, correcting attitude for the venting gases and turning its damaged side earthward. Then it renewed its attack.
Inside the Columbia's tender, dubbed Columbia A, Bang and Jan manned the two disintegrator cannons as Snapper fighter craft buzzed them like flies, firing lasers. But the tender's shielding was similar to that of the clipper ships, and held readily against the lasers. Coordinating their efforts, Jan and Bang swept wide swaths with the cannons, taking out several enemy ships in one go.
Another swarm of fighters attacked, this time attempting to block the Columbia A from moving forward. Abruptly a black sphere materialized to starboard, and the fighter craft disappeared, whereupon so did the clipper ship.
"Thanks, Captain Preston,” Hand Anderson radioed via unreality.
"Welcome, Captain Anderson,” came the cheery reply. “Least I could do."
"How's it going?"
"Getting there. Lady Liberty estimates twenty-five, maybe as much as thirty, percent of the original fleet taken out,” Preston reported. “That includes all the little bug runabouts. You guys take out the shit on the ground, we'll catch the rest of it upstairs. Godspeed."
The White Horse Platoon joined up with a platoon of the 101st as it fell back toward Memphis. The 101st platoon had dug in and managed to hold a line through a shopping mall, but they were hanging on by their fingernails. Dead bodies, human and Snapper, littered the ground, as well as the freeway the fighting had recently crossed. A few wrecked automobiles were also scattered across the multi-lane highway. The Snappers had themselves literally dug into the midst of the mall parking lot, utilizing abandoned vehicles, concrete K rails, and breaking up the asphalt to create trenches.
The Columbia A, which landed on the interstate a mile from the battle line, contained several specialized hovertanks and armored personnel carriers; as chief gunny, Bang got the turret gun of the point tank. Piki joined him. It was a close fit with all of the necessary personnel, but she pointed out that she could fight as well as the rest, and if she could get close enough to the Snappers without harm, might be able to assist by blanking their short term memories.
So they activated the tank's quantum shield, Bang manned the cannon, and Jan drove. Piki had been quickly trained to use the periscope and to swap out power packs to the cannon if needed—Bang adored her eidetic memory in that moment—and Tomlinson commanded the vehicle.
Peggy was in one of the person
nel carriers near the rear, in case medics were needed. Most of the rest of White Horse were in tanks as well, save for McAllister's Special Forces unit; they'd gone invisible and were, as Bang put it, “playing ninja” quite effectively among the Snapper foot soldiers.
The 101st platoon was more than glad to see them; they'd lost nearly half their number to the sheer viciousness of the Snappers, combined with trying to save as many of the civilian populace as they could. They fell back as the Space Marines moved past, thankful for the relief.
Within seconds a perimeter wall had been established in front of the Snappers. Any Snapper vehicle or foot soldier who crossed that line ceased to exist, was cut to ribbons, or fell down with scrambled internal organs. The no man's land between the two lines quickly became littered with Snapper remains, and occasionally one blew up well behind the battle line; Bang knew that was Mac's ninjas at work. “Scrambled eggs and sliced ham,” Wersky noted with black humor, indicating the no man's land. “Well, sliced platypus, I guess."
"Boy, do they stink, though,” Bang made a face. “It's even getting through the air filters."
"It's bad,” Tomlinson agreed, “but better them than us. Piki, I need to know how to maneuver to start flanking this group. Can you get me some sight lines?"
"Yes, just a moment, John,” she said, completing the change-out of Crispy batteries that powered both the tank and the cannon. Then she hurried to the periscope and peered out for several seconds. “Keep the turret pointed where it is, Bang-bang,” she replied, “and John, have Jan turn about twenty degrees to port, and move forward."
"Obstacles?” Tomlinson asked.
"A few shrubs, but it is an open car park for a... a strip mall?” she offered. “For the most part."
As Wersky maneuvered the hovertank, the area Piki referenced entered the tiny window that comprised his view on the world. “Oh, I see,” he said. “Good girl.” He aimed the tank toward the opening on the enemy's right flank.
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