Exodus: Machine War 1 Supernova.

by Doug Dandridge

  “Are we to assume that we will be camping on site,” asked a Lt. Commander sitting at the table.

  “You are. The Admiral wants to find out as much as he can about these constructs before we are forced to leave the planet. Since they will not yield up their secrets from above, we are going to see what we can find by burrowing into the earth. And to answer your implied question, we will bring you back in small groups to the base about once a week, where you can clean up, have a good meal, and relax.”

  The room shook just a bit, then again, and several of the Spacers looked up to the ceiling in alarm. The Commander closed his eyes, the concentrated look on his face showing that he had gone into com link.

  “We are being attacked by mortars, ladies and gentlemen,” said the Commander. “Nothing to be alarmed about, since our defensive lasers are picking them out of the air before they get to us. Probably wouldn’t do too much damage if they hit, either, considering the tech of their weapons.”

  He closed his eyes again as some more faint crumps sounded from beyond the ceiling. “However, we have been asked to relocate to the lower levels, just in case.”

  We’re here to help these people, thought Moyahan with a scowl as she got to her feet and followed some Spacers out of the room. Only an hour onto this world, and they have already tried to kill me twice. She wasn’t sure if the attempt with her shuttle was really an attempt to kill her and the people with her, but she was willing to give the natives the benefit of a doubt. And tomorrow I get to go out into the boonies, where they’ll have an even easier time getting to me.

  * * *

  Shoot and scoot was what it was called. The process of firing one shot, or only a couple, before moving the firing tube. Or, in the case of the prepositioned mortars, moving from tube to tube. The theory was that counterbattery could not track the shell back in time to kill the firing crew, or, in this case, the lone operative who had dropped the round down the tube before running to the next one to repeat the process. It might have worked against their own tech. Against something well over a thousand years more advanced? Not a chance.

  Warrant Officer Melissa Sung watched the round from the mortar arc up on her monitor, on a heading toward the compound. As soon as it started its drop a laser linked its projector and the round for just an instant. Enough to pump sufficient heat into the high explosive round to detonate it in midair. Shrapnel rained down, very little of it hitting the compound. Several Klassekian civilians were not so fortunate, and two went down on the street.

  “Bastards,” cursed the Pilot under her breath, setting her stingship’s weapons system on automatic wide beam. It was bad enough that the terrorists were trying to hurt her people, who were, after all, combatants. But hurting their own people, and innocent bystanders at that, was going too far.

  The craft’s sensors picked up the next shot, another mortar round starting its rise into the air. It had only reached two meters above the ground, and the being that had dropped it had only taken one step away, when the laser beam, three meters wide as the point of strike, hit. The round exploded under the imparted energy of the coherent energy, sending shrapnel scything through the space for ten meters in every direction, including the terrorist who had just sent it on its way. That male was already in the process of being incinerated by the portion of the beam he had interrupted. It would be hard to say what killed him first. The point was moot, as his scorched bones and some kilos of cooked flesh hit the ground, while a mist of superheated steam rose into the air around him.

  Sung barely had time to register the kill before another round started on its rise, and the stingship’s main laser repeated the same procedure, leaving another partially incinerated body on the deck. It seemed that none of the alien operatives realized what was going on, and the other four continued with their mission until, one at a time, they were all killed.

  Dumb fucks, thought the Pilot, rising back into the sky and up to her station altitude, setting the craft to hover in place and go to full stealth. The skin of the stingship shimmered for a moment, and it faded from the view of all sensors, visual and other electromagnetic. If one knew where to look, it could still be picked up on infrared from the heat the craft’s fusion power plant was putting out. Otherwise, it was as undetectable as anything could be.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m going to save these people if I have to kill every one of them, and resurrect those we can.

  Report from unidentified officer.

  “Of course, Admiral,” said First Councilman Rizzit Contena, looking at the human in the holo. “We will fully cooperate with you on this.”

  You are getting all of this, my brother, he said to General Mazzat Contena, his litter mate.

  I am, sent back the General. They could both feel the other siblings from their litter in the background, listening in, ready to give their input when needed.

  “All of our police and intelligence agencies are on full alert, as of this moment,” continued the First Councilman to the leader of the humans. “I am also considering putting all of our military forces on alert as well.”

  “I’m not sure that last is a good idea, First Councilman,” said the Admiral, who had become the contact person of the humans within days after he had entered the system. “Tensions are already high enough, and from what we have been seeing in your news reports, even the majority of your own population is on a razor’s edge.”

  He does not trust us, sent Kazzat, the financier, and the member of the litter who was probably the best negotiator of the group.

  “The safety of your people is my primary concern,” said the First Councilman. “It does none of us any good for violent confrontations to occur between yours and ours.”

  We have enough volunteers among our nonbelievers to fulfill their needs, sent Mazzat. I say we just give them those people, and ask them to leave.

  And then wait for the blue giant to kill the rest of us, sent Lazzit, the engineer. We should see if we can get their technological secrets from them. Then, just maybe, we could build our own arks, and get at least some more of our people out of here. At least the important ones.

  Which means us, and the people in our circles, thought the First Councilman in his private thoughts. And when that gets out to our population, we have riots. Possibly mutiny by our own forces. The masses overrunning the construction sites.

  “Have you thought anymore about trying to build shelters for at least some of our people?” asked Rizzit. “I know you don’t have the resources to save all of us, or even a very large percentage. But every one you can save is a blessing.”

  “We have more ships due to arrive in the next couple of weeks,” said the Admiral, looking off the holo for a moment. “I’ll see what we have to work with when they come insystem.”

  You would think he would know what is coming aboard those ships he ordered here, sent the General. I have to wonder what he’s hiding.

  “I have to go now, First Councilman,” said the Admiral, looking back out of the holo. “I have a staff meeting scheduled. But I would definitely like to talk with you again tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to it, Admiral,” said Rizzit, listening to his brothers chime in with their take on the human’s cutting the com short.

  The holo died, and the First Councilman sat back in his chair, digesting everything the human had said, every remark, every expression. And his brothers looked over his memories as well, and added their own, filling in any details he might have forgotten.

  They examined every nuance of the Admiral’s presentation. None of them were expert on humans, yet. But they still had gotten a better handle on the humans than they thought the humans had gotten on them.

  * * *

  Tzapp Kelish was something that had not been seen in the Empire. Not since humankind had left the Earth. He was a minister, which was not an unusual occupation, even in the Empire, which had a great many religions, most with a good number of adherents, though none were as fanatical as the majority of
those on Klassek. No, Kelish was what had been known on old Earth as a televangelist, a minister who preached to his congregation through the airwaves, or in this case, mostly, through cable and satellite. It was, just as it had been on Earth, a lucrative business that pandered to the easily fooled, the gullible, the perpetually angry.

  Kelish stood at his podium in front of the cameras, his six litter mates, also members of his ministry, sitting behind him. He was linked with them while he spoke, using their awareness of the live crowd, of the religious texts, of the news that was circulating through the news media.

  “And Gallact said to his brothers, looking down upon the world from their seats in heaven, ‘the people are ours to protect. From all of the dangers of the Universe.’ And so the Gods placed the twelve temples upon the world, that we would be protected from the evil plans of the Dark Gods. As so they wait, for the time of danger, when the power of the Gods will flow through them.”

  Kelish closed the book on the podium, the holy text of his religion, and looked out over the audience, then to the cameras. “The word of the Gods is clear. We are to trust in their word, and seek comfort in the fact that they are our protectors, as long as we are faithful to them, and keep their strictures. But their words also come with a warning, that we must obey their word, or their protection will be removed from us. And the Dark Gods, including the Demon God of the Honish, Hrrottha, will destroy us utterly, and our souls will not ascend to the home of the Gods to live there forever.”

  The crowd shouted out their version of an ‘amen’, and Kelish held his hands in the air. “Hrrottha has told his worshipers that we are all doomed, that he will send destruction to this world, and our souls will be eaten by he and his Demon Servants. Will we let this happen my fellow Children of the Gods?”

  “No,” shouted the crowd, and Kelish received the feedback from his siblings that let him know he was playing the congregation like a master. No, not really playing them, as he also believed his own words. While he made his money on their gullibility much of the time, he also held a deep seated belief in Gallact and the other Gods.

  “Now we have strangers among us, telling us that the star that the Demon Worshipers call their Hrrottha, the manifestation of their Demon God, is about to explode, and kill this world. The worshippers of Hrrottha wish for this to happen, as, according to their belief, they will go to the hell of their God and serve him there, forever. Nothing any of us would desire, but what those misguided souls do. And we? We will be tormented as unbelievers in this hell. But Gallact gives us a different story. That his hand will protect us, but only if we remain faithful to him.

  “And the strangers tell us that the tale of the Demon God Hrrottha is true, that our world will be cleansed with fire. That only they can save a select few of us from this disaster. And our politicians, our leaders, bend their ears to their tale, and many of our people also panic, and follow the strangers, the unbelievers.”

  There was more murmuring among the crowd as they bought into the words of their minister.

  “The strangers, these aliens, are asking us to follow them, and not our Gods. They ask us to turn our backs on the Holy Word of Gallact, to trust in them instead. And that path leads to our doom. That path leads to us turning our backs on our Gods, on the leader of our Gods. And when we have done so, Gallact will no longer hold us in his hands and protect us from the Demon Star. We will be truly doomed, our souls forfeit.”

  People started yelling now, imprecations against the humans, against the demon worshippers of Honish. There was true anger there, such as could only be seen in people with deep beliefs when someone threatens those beliefs.

  “Calmly, my brothers and sisters,” said Kelish, raising his tentacles into the air. “Anger solves nothing. Violence solves nothing.” Though a little bit of focused violence might actually be of use, he thought, receiving the agreement of his siblings.

  “The aliens are not evil, I do not believe. Merely misguided. They have their own Gods, just as we do ours. They believe they do good. They see a threat, and their own beliefs compel them to come to our aid. In this they are mistaken, as are our leaders, who grasp at secular straws when their own faith wavers. But in grasping at these straws, they doom us all.”

  He stopped for a moment and let his eyes again roam the congregation, taking in the rapt attention of every member upon him.

  “Violence begets violence. I call not upon you to turn to violence. But no matter what, the plans of the strangers must be stopped. It is the only way on which our own salvation will find us. They must be obstructed, delayed, so that our Gods, through the twelve temples they have placed upon our planet, may save us, as promised in their word.”

  * * *

  “This is interesting, sir,” said Captain Mandy Albright, sitting behind the desk of her dayroom, looking at the face of Admiral Nguyen van Hung.

  “Your history section has made progress on that project you were assigned?” asked the Admiral, looking up from the flat comp he had been studying.

  Each the ships in his command had been assigned a number of projects. Clark’s section had been given the assignment of looking into the history texts of the nation of Tsarzor to see what references there were to the ancient constructs on the planet. They had found many references, many conflicting, when someone had thought to look at the major religious texts of the primary religion of that nation.

  “One of my officers translated one of their religious texts, The Book of Gallact, and found many references to the constructs. According to the earliest books, the constructs, which are called temples, were placed by the God Gallact to protect this world from a future disaster.”

  “And this has relevance because?”

  “I’m not saying it’s factual history, but at one point these people came to the conclusion that those things were put there as a defense against something that would threaten the entire planet.”

  “Which proves nothing,” said the Admiral, shaking his head. “Just because the primitives of this world looked at those advanced constructs and decided they were something from the Gods means nothing. In fact, it would be surprising if they didn’t think that, seeing something that was obviously artificial in origin, and also obviously beyond anything they could do.”

  “And if this religious book references something that was told to these people by whomever put these things in place?”

  “What do you want us to do, Captain?” asked the Admiral, steepling his fingers, his eyes narrowing. “Leave this world alone, in the hope that these constructs will do something miraculous to save these people? I don’t think so.”

  “What about the constructs in orbit around Big Bastard?” asked Albright. “There must be some connection.”

  “I’m sure there is. But we have no idea what that connection is.” The Admiral looked away for a moment, his attention caught by something off the holo. He looked back at the Captain, his brow furrowed. “Have you seen this, Captain?”

  The Admiral disappeared from the holo, to be replaced by a shot of a crowd of natives, all holding up signs and shouting protests outside one of the Imperial compounds. Mandy looked at the signs and listened to the yelling, her implant translating for her. The signs ranged from ‘humans go home’ to ‘death to the invaders’, while similar things were being shouted by the aliens, who were arranged in front of the gate to the compound, obviously there to stop ground traffic. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing them much good, as Command aircraft were still launching, in some cases carrying ground vehicles underneath their fuselages.

  “So far it has been nonviolent,” said Nguyen. “And we’re not too worried about any weapons their civilians might have. We have to remember, though, that we let a half dozen shoulder fired antiair launchers and almost a score of particle beam weapons, including four heavy beamers, as well as two heavy lasers, fall into their hands.”

  Meaning my command let those weapons fall into the hands of the natives, thought the Captain, reading between the
Admiral’s lines.

  “I believe those weapons were taken by the Honish, sir,” said Albright, forcing herself to remain calm. “I don’t think the Tsarzorians have any of those weapons.”

  “And I tend to agree with you, based on your report on the people who kidnapped and injured your ensign at the time. But the bottom line is that we just don’t know where those weapons ended up. I commend you on setting all of our equipment to be easily tracked afterwards, though I could wish it had been done prior to the incident.

  “Back to the original question,” continued Nguyen. “I don’t believe in fairy tales. We had enough of them on Earth, thinking we were special, protected by our deities against all comers. Until the Cacas came along and showed that we were not special after all. So these people have their legends. Great, and someday some scholar will catalogue them for the entertainment of the rest of the Galaxy. But, as far as I know, they are just legends, and there are fifty other conflicting legends on this world that are just as compelling to those who believe them.

  “So keep on the research, Captain. I want to know these legends, of course, and any other information you might be able to find. But I will not base my actions on them. Nguyen out.”

  Albright stared at the dead holo for a moment, then shook her head. She knew in reality that it was nothing to bet on, but her intuition was telling her there was something to it. That it wasn’t just religious mumbo jumbo from another world whose people at one time thought they were the center of the Universe. She had a thought, and translated it into action.