by Jaxon Reed
After the third ship, the State stopped sending them through, and a stalemate ensued. Alexandria sent a drone through Janus 25 to take a look around on the New Hong Kong side. Before being shot apart, it recorded a host of gunships waiting on the other side. An uneasy and unofficial truce began, with no movement between Janus 25 and the rest of the string. We presumed the Revolution stalled, as our contact with the rest of the planets was cut off.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me go back and fill in what we did in the early days of the University Revolution on Redwood.
-+-
“The fighting continues on New Texas, and the action has spread to Athena and Alexandria.”
The Professor had our undivided attention. I reflected privatively that this was one of the few meetings I’d been invited to. In fact, after this one I was to sit in on all the rest. With a crisis at hand, I was no longer an outsider.
Everybody listened closely. He listed some facts, counting them off on his fingers.
“There are no Galactic Police here on Redwood, of that we’re pretty sure. There may be one or two tucked away somewhere, but there’s no official presence. Half a dozen Agents in Redwood City keep an eye on the populace there. But there’s not much for them to do, really.
“There are a few GPs on Orange. They run the spaceport and the controlled access area. They’re basically prison guards. There are a couple of Agents there too, of course, keeping tabs on them.
“All in all, State forces are extraordinarily weak both here and on Orange. There are few people on either planet, and little need for a strong official presence.
“Currently there are two spaceships docked at Redwood City, and one on Orange. They’re not going anywhere during the current crisis.
“Redwood and Orange are backwaters, as far as the State is concerned. There are no resources they can use to try a backdoor attack on New Texas through Janus Twenty-eight, using Agents or anyone else. The University knows this, and the State knows this.”
He paused again, and locked eyes with Ranger Jenkins. Jenkins nodded.
The Professor continued.
“Nonetheless . . . we have received a coded message directly from President Montoya. We have been tasked with securing Redwood City, along with the spaceport and the two spaceships docked there.”
The crowd gasped. Incredulous murmurs spread around the room.
The Professor held up his palms.
“I know. I know. We’re researchers, not soldiers. But everybody who is a part of the University has a role to play in this conflict. This is our role. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but we can’t ignore this assignment while our colleagues, many of whom are also researchers, are shedding blood for the cause back on New Texas and elsewhere. We have to do this.”
The murmurs stopped. He had them, although many still did not look happy about it. Some no longer looked him in the eye, staring down at their feet instead. Others, those with family, stared at their children and spouses.
“Look, this an obligation. We’re Aggies. Think about what our University has done for us the last twenty years. Does the State know we’re here?”
A few people shook their heads. A couple of them mumbled, “No.”
“No, the State doesn’t know we’re here. Do you realize how difficult, how hard it is to keep a secret like that from the largest intelligence apparatus in the Janus String?
“New Texas A and M has stuck by us for two decades out here. The University has protected us, kept our secrets, made sure we survived and were able to continue our research all this time. And all this time, other than requesting regular reports on our progress, they have asked nothing more of us in return. Nothing. Until now.”
He looked around the room, pausing to lock eyes with every person.
“We have to do this.”
It was a great speech. Even those most inclined to disagree could think of nothing to say. Ranger Station Alpha was going to war.
-+-
Several preparatory meetings had to take place first. At one of them, Ranger Jenkins addressed the logistics of attacking Redwood City. He stood before a hologram model of the city, a giant blue cube shrunk down to table size so he could point out various features.
“The spaceport is really just a landing pad on the side facing inward toward the forest. Ships land there, load bots enter and exit from this large doorway here. That is the only ground level entrance to the city. While cargo goes through there, people have to enter through Customs, which is on the fifth level here. They’re given PHUs and fly up there for processing, and go through body scanners. Kind of inconvenient, but it’s not like they get a lot of visitors, anyway.
“Now, here’s the critical thing. The city was actually designed and built in Asiana. It was shipped here in pieces and assembled on site. The thinking at the time was, it should be able to withstand attack from hostile natives. Thus the location, in the middle of a desert that is an especially hostile environment to arboreal creatures. Also, that ground level doorway is the most heavily fortified. You see how big it is. It allows the transfer of ship cargo, back and forth, and it’s heavy. When it’s closed and locked, nothing short of a nuke is going to open it from the outside.
“But Customs Entry, five levels up, is less fortified. Sure, monkeys can climb, but the builders presumed Redwood monkeys can’t climb smooth surfaces. So, the people entrance they placed higher up on the wall will be easier to break through. Same with the quadcopter bay. It’s a big door, but it’s not nearly as fortified as the ground level one. Of the two, we think a small team can batter their way through the Customs Entry easiest. Once inside, we can hopefully open the cargo bay door, let everybody in, and work toward neutralizing the city.
“But first, to get there, we have to go through the desert. They have an excellent sensor grid several miles around the city. Again, remember the assault mindset this place was built with. Anything the size of a monkey crosses over into the desert, alarms go off in the city. They’re going to see us coming.”
“The sensors are at ground level, right Colt?”
“That’s right Professor, but they monitor the air too. They’ve always seen our birds ahead of time when we’ve flown in for any reason.”
Mrs. Jenkins picked up the narrative.
“Besides the doorways, our biggest problem is going to be what happens when they engage their assault protocols. The city is designed to automatically defend itself in the event of attack. Weapons are stored inside. The load bots retrieve the weapons, transition into autonomous soldiers, and begin firing on all hostile targets outside the city.”
My eyebrows shot up. This was a surprise. Who’d have thought load bots could become soldiers? I thought about their arms and fully articulated, human-like hands, and I could see how they could handle a rifle. The idea was not too far removed from Professor Kalinowski’s repurposing them to chop up tobacco leaf. Chilling thought.
“And again, are we to presume they would fire on targets in the air?”
“Yes, Professor. And on any targets along the wall. They’re programmed to shoot at any hostile targets outside the city, air, ground, wherever. If we were to fly up to the Customs Entry, and try to break in there, they’ll fire at us from below. The city’s walls can handle the bullets without any problems.
“But the load bots aren’t the only danger incoming birds will face. They also have catapults.”
“Catapults? You mean like from the Middle Ages?”
“A little more high tech than that. They’re actually based on a type of rail gun that uses energy to propel objects out and away. They don’t store shells or ammo for them, they just use rocks. Their reasoning is, exploding ordnance would prove too disruptive to the desert’s eco system, but flying boulders would minimize damage while still proving lethal. So, they’ve got piles of rocks and large boulders all over the place just for this purpose. If an army of monkeys were to gather on the edge of the desert, they could sling rocks throu
gh the air and disrupt the masses before they got near the city. They’ve got a virtually unlimited supply of ‘ammo’ in the desert around the city, too.”
“Amazing. They really took this monkey invasion threat seriously. So, I presume you’re implying these ‘electronic catapults’ could prove dangerous to us in the air?”
“Somewhat. We think our birds’ computer systems can handle most of the difficulty. The rocks, once airborne, should follow a predictable trajectory. The birds’ sensors can figure things out in time to avoid collisions. We hope. We haven’t tested this before since it’s our first invasion, but we’re fairly confident the birds can handle it.”
Ranger Jenkins spoke again, picking up seamlessly where his wife left off.
“If we can get there, and like Ella said we’re fairly certain we can on the birds, we think a ground assault can fire on the load bots and neutralize them. Also, we think we can get a team up to the Customs Entry doorway and break in there.
“Once our main forces are inside, interior defenses around the Governor’s Quarters are relatively light. There’s not a lot of people in there to begin with, and we don’t expect much resistance once we’re inside.”
He paused and we all soaked it in. So far, everything had been presented as reasonable. Difficult, maybe, but reasonable.
“Our biggest dilemma, and possibly an insurmountable one, is that we simply don’t have enough weapons for this kind of assault.”
“How many weapons do we have?”
“Three pistols. Each Ranger is assigned one. We also have six rifles.”
“How many people do we think we can bring?”
“We’ve got ten birds. Each can carry three people. So, thirty for the assault.”
“That’s most everybody not including the children. But not enough, obviously. Thirty people with only nine guns.”
“We also don’t have much in the way of ammunition. We’ve used some of our current supplies in target practice lately. I’m afraid in an assault, we’ll run out well before we make a dent in their forces.”
The Professor’s brow furrowed as he reflected on this. It did look fairly hopeless. Of course, I knew something they didn’t. I decided it was time to speak up.
“Well, if it’s weapons and ammo you need, I know where some are located . . .”
-+-
I sat on the back “seat” of Jenkins’ synthetic bird, carrying a large portable battery pack. The Professor sat in the middle as the three of us approached AES 3. The bird gave a final whuff! of its wings, landed, and we climbed down. We approached the front door, and a waiting Professor Kalinowski.
“Curtis. Long time, no see.”
“How are you, Milton?”
“Oh, fair to middlin’. Brought back m’boy, I see. He give you any trouble?”
“No, we’re just here to pick up some things he left behind. Colt, you and Marcus go get the QC. Milton and I have to talk.”
We found the quadcopter and cleared the brush off. I checked the guns and ammunition where I’d left them in the QC’s storage compartment. They were undisturbed. We charged the vehicle back up with the portable battery pack. Jenkins got in with me, and I flew us back to the AES front door.
The Professors watched as I popped the canopy and Jenkins and I crawled out.
“So it’s war,” Kalinowski said.
Cruz nodded. “You knew it was inevitable. The State always overreaches.”
“True. True. But, as long as the State leaves me alone, I really don’t care what else it does.”
“The only reason the State has left you alone thus far is, they didn’t know you were here.”
Kalinowski smiled. “And will the new State, the one run by the University this time, the one that does know I’m out here . . . will that State leave me alone, too?”
“I can’t say for sure, Milton. But if I had to guess, I’d say you and I will both be long gone before the University’s government grows as corrupt as this one.”
Kalinowski nodded, his brow furrowed in thought.
“Everything ready, Colt? Marcus, were the weapons intact?”
“Yes, sir. The guns are all here and we’ve got the battery all charged.”
“Good.”
He turned back to Kalinowski.
“It’ll be okay, Milt.”
Professor Cruz clasped his colleague on the shoulder, then turned and climbed up onto the synthetic bird.
Jenkins said to me, “See you back at the station.”
He turned to Kalinowski and said, “So long, Professor.”
Then he climbed up the synthetic bird. It came alive as its system booted, turned its head and locked an eye on Jenkins.
“Bird, take us home.”
It gave a robotic Squawk! Its wings went whuff! and the two men swept up into the air and were gone.
I turned and looked at Kalinowski. He gave me a thoughtful glance.
“So you’re going to fight for the Aggies, hm?”
I shrugged. “Why not? The State would just as soon kill me.”
Kalinowski nodded. “Curtis told me about your condition.”
“How about you? Are you going to fight?”
He said nothing for a moment. He gazed out at his tobacco crops, thinking. Mulling something over in his mind.
“Curtis makes a good point. New Texas A and M has been good to us for many years. Now, I’m just an old Ag Prof, but if my University asks me for help in overthrowing the State, I agree with him. I feel an obligation to help somehow.”
I tilted my head toward the QC. “I’ve got room for one more in there.”
He smiled. “Wait a minute, m’boy. I’ll be right back.”
He returned with several boxes of cigars.
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
I lifted off in the QC. We hovered for a moment for one last look at AES 3. Then I turned to face the trees and we flew off toward Ranger Station Alpha.
Chapter Eleven
I approached the landing pad, where the triplets stood waiting for me. They squinted to look in the QC, but couldn’t see anything clearly. I landed gently, popped the canopy, and the Professor and I crawled out. He dusted off his pants and looked around. When he saw the three triplets staring at him in wide-eyed amazement, he barked a laugh.
“So, these are the infamous O’Donnell triplets, I presume. Boys, your reputation precedes you. I am most honored to make your acquaintance.”
He stuck out his hand and shook Jeremy’s, then Jacob’s, but Jason ran off yelling, “Professor Kalinowski’s here! Professor Kalinowski’s here!”
Minutes later everybody streamed toward the landing pad.
Most hadn’t seen him in years. They hugged him, cried over him. He doted over their children, none of whom he’d seen, but he had heard all about them over the years. He seemed to know everybody by name.
Finally Mrs. Cruz stepped through the crowd.
“Milton.”
Everybody stopped and held their collective breath.
“Melody.”
He reached out and they hugged. Both cried.
Mrs. Cruz broke away.
“Milton, this is my daughter Consuela.”
Professor Kalinowski wiped away tears. “Hello, Consuela. Or, do you prefer Connie? You look just like your mother.”
She shook his hand guardedly. This obviously was a new and awkward experience for her.
“Connie is fine.”
“And Milton, this is my other daughter, Diane.”
“The lovely and talented Dee Dee! I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Thank you, Professor. Likewise.”
Dee Dee shook his hand warmly.
Professor Cruz spoke up, addressing the crowd.
“Everybody, let’s give Milton some space. Let him get settled in. Tonight we’ll have a banquet in his honor.”
“Yes! And afterwards, I’ve brought enough cigars for everyone.”
The crowd cheered.
-+-
The “old Ag Prof,” as he liked to refer to himself, fit in just fine with the community as the days of preparation continued for our assault on Redwood City. The O’Donnells offered to put him up in their place, in part to spare the Cruzes some awkwardness and in part because the O’Donnells were just hospitable like that.
The triplets thought this was outstanding, and spent many hours talking to Professor Kalinowski after supper. I have to say, I enjoyed having him there as well. Many nights Mrs. O’Donnell would shoo us off to bed, saying, “Milton needs his sleep. You boys do, too. Go on.”
Reluctantly, we’d end our conversation, say our goodnights, and climb the rope ladder up to the tree house. But I noted, when looking over the edge long after the triplets were snoring, the lights stayed on down in the O’Donnells’ house as they conversed with the Professor into the wee hours of the night.
My work shifted away from Mrs. Ng and food prep, as Professor Cruz reassigned many of us to help prepare for the assault. I helped inventory and prepare all our weapons, helped Jenkins in testing each one to make sure they worked. We figured out weapons assignments, deciding who got what. Then we moved to synthetic bird logistics.
Jenkins told me how the Rangers ended up with so many birds. Officially there were three Rangers in the station, all married. Only one couple had children, the Joneses. They had two boys and two girls, ages three, five, seven, and nine. By some quirk in the paperwork, while the State officially considered only three Rangers to be assigned to Redwood, each member of a Ranger’s family were allotted their own “frontier planet transportation device.” So, even three year old Hunter Jones officially received his very own synthetic bird a few months ago.
I’ll never understand State bureaucracy.
Anyway, we were happy to have the birds. Ten of them allowed thirty of us to fly in on the assault.
There was some drama in one of our many meetings surrounding the question of who would stay behind. The Jones children were a given. None were of age. But Mrs. Patel insisted Aneeta and Anusha stay behind, too. Aneeta didn’t seem to mind. I think the thought of shooting at load bots and invading Redwood City didn’t hold much appeal to her. But Anusha insisted she get a chance to fight.