Tales of the Federation Reborn 1

by Chris Hechtl

  He'd been lured away from Waynetch to Mega City to work in the college and engineering by Doctor Greenwich and Professor Sackle, both of which he'd had as professors at some time in his youth. He'd taken on reservist duties with the police enforcers, even rising to get his pilot's license before that unfortunate incident that had sidelined that career.

  At least publicly she thought secretively as she smiled slightly and turned back to the meeting about to start.

  “Miss Briggs, we've gotten the computer network up. The generous donation of tablets and smart phone devices that you facilitated from Waynetech and Lexcorp has helped the students and faculty, but it has caused another problem, one unexpected. Apparently the devices do not interface together well. Some had said they are actively fighting each other with viruses and sabotage,” the admin assistant said as he opened the meeting.

  “Hmm,” the deputy mayor said. It was an unexpected problem; one she should have thought of in advance but hadn't.

  “We've tried to talk to the representatives but each points to the other side,” the admin tech said. “I'm not sure how to resolve this … cyber war,” he said, sounding bewildered.

  <(>^<)>

  After Callie made some headway with the University cyber war, she came out into the dark quad. She was disappointed to see Jake's truck was gone. She had actually been looking forward to hitching a ride with him and flirting with him.

  Instead she stayed in the well lit areas out of caution until she managed to hail a taxi. She took the ride to the city hall building, paid her fare, and then went inside.

  “Ah, Callie, nice to see you,” the mayor drawled, meeting her in the lobby.

  “Sorry, Mayor Manx, the meeting was a bit thornier than I'd expected,” she said, looking around to the lobby. She was amused that the mayor had been busy rebuilding the structure now that they had more cash flowing. She liked the marble, though the sculpted relief of the mayor with construction workers on the far wall was a bit much. So was the fountain which blocked the way to the elevators.

  “I'm just about to go out. Why don't you tell me all about it,” the mayor said. “We can discuss it over dinner,” he drawled with his twang.

  “All right,” Callie said, stomach rumbling. “After that we can talk about the budget a bit. We've had some discrepancies, and it's causing havoc with some of the projects around the city. Money is being taken from the wrong budgets and disappearing.” She had her suspicions where it was going—like the marble tiles and floor in the lobby or the new golf course the mayor was chasing after.

  The mayor was big on ideas, drawing a consensus, speeches, and quite good at working the masses. He absolutely sucked at meetings, paperwork, and little things like budgets or sticking to them.

  “Ah, Callie, let's wait until desert and not sour our meal,” the mayor said. “I'm supposed to talk with that red cat Solimaxara tomorrow. Suppose you will be there?” he asked as they exited the building and hailed another cab.

  “Not if I can help it,” Callie muttered under her breath. But she knew she'd have to go. Manx was shifty but relatively harmless as long as he was handled properly. The long red cat was a different story. He was far too aggressive and much too shifty for her tastes.

  “I know he'd appreciate seeing such a fine woman you've turned out to be,” the mayor drawled as the vehicle pulled up. Callie snorted when she recognized the tag; it was the same one that had just dropped her off. The mayor opened the door politely for her. She smiled and flicked her ears in thanks as she climbed inside and moved over to make room for him.

  “Driver, the Taj, I've got a dinner reservation there,” the mayor drawled as he closed the door. He turned to Callie. “We need to lure some more dockside workers including the specialists Solimaxara mentioned. He told me about genies and selkies who are looking for work. I thought we'd look into that some more and explore hiring them. Of course finding them and finding the funds to pay for them to relocate here …”

  Callie sucked in a breath.

  “But of course that can wait I suppose,” the mayor said, stifling her protests. “After dinner I suppose,” he said. “Though, we would have to look into relocating their families and quarters,” he said looking up as he scratched under his chin.

  Suddenly Callie wasn't so sure she wanted to eat anymore.

  <(>^<)>

  Commander Feral was in a foul mood the following morning as he took in the evening and morning status report. The briefing was a headache, even more so because he had to deal with the stupid parade and ceremony and all the security concerns inherent in such events. “Sir, are we going to parade the rail gun? I know Lieutenant Steele presented the idea but …”

  “No sergeant, we can't very well use the gun if it's disconnected from the power grid, away from its supply of munitions, and out and about, now can we?” the commander asked sarcastically. What he didn't mention was the two laser batteries they also had, all courtesy of Jake's scrounging in the scrap yard.

  The young cat was a genius; he had to grudgingly admit that. He'd found all three planetary defensive pieces and gotten them up and running before he'd gotten into trouble with Chance. It was why he'd assigned the two to the scrap yard, so they might dredge up more goodies for the enforcers to add to their arsenal.

  He just hadn't expected the two to go rogue and create their “Swatcats.” Nor had he expected the mayor to sign off on them, nor he and the deputy mayor to create a special SWAT label for them. He'd even found out they'd gotten a bit of support from Waynetech and the lieutenant governor. Because of all that and because they'd stuck to a capture-not-kill policy he'd put up with them, their antics, and their occasional insubordination.

  Besides, at the end of the mission, they got the job done. He had to grudgingly admit that. They did get results.

  But he ached to call them to heel. And he was looking forward to one day letting them know he knew who was under the masks.

  “No, sir,” the Neomutt sergeant replied, bobbing a nod as he wiggled his floppy ears. “The lieutenant put through orders to have it cleaned and ready to move, sir.”

  “He did, did he? Well, it's not going anywhere. It's staying put at the rail yard. We can put one of the choppers in its place. Take one from maintenance, one that is down, clean it up and stick it on a flatbed. We'll use that.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant said, making a note.

  “On second thought, make certain the chopper is a functional one. You never know when we might need one in a hurry,” the commander said, rubbing his jaw.

  “Yes, sir. There was only one chopper down for maintenance, sir. I'll get Chance on it since Jake is busy at the University again,” he said, making a note on his tablet.

  “You do that,” the commander said carefully.

  Since the incident that had sparked the knock-down-drag-out argument and demotion, Chance had been demoted to maintenance along with Jake and a few others who had crossed the commander over the past four years. Jake and Chance had light duty; however, they also had other work in the scrap yard and in public to keep them busy.

  And their little side projects he thought, wondering briefly where they found the time and energy to get it all done. He had to admire their ability, though he wished they'd been a bit less headstrong about using them or confronting him from time to time.

  “Sir?”

  “Sorry. What's next?”

  “Sir, the mayor wants some reassurances that the enforcers will not be armed.”

  “Absolutely not. I'm not going to parade me and my people out in public where the mob or someone with an ax to grind can shove it into my back. Out of the question,” the commander snarled.

  “He's being very insistent. Public safety and well …”

  “Oh, he is? You can stroke him anyway you want but remind him he left me in charge of the police,” he said, tapping his chest with the brass tip of the black baton he liked to carry. “I'll do as I see fit. If he doesn't like it, he can try to fire me,”
the commander growled, teeth bared, eyes glittering with contempt.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Um, about the catnip problem. It's getting out of hand in the western quadrant,” the sergeant said.

  “Damn it,” the commander growled. He didn't mind the occasional nip now and then, but some people couldn't help but push such things to extremes.

  And then there were those who just had to take advantage of such stupidity.

  “Pass a memo to get it under control. Make sure we put them on notice by stepping up inspections and contraband searches if we have to. The same for other illicit substances. We don't need a drunk or hopped-up driver or flyer running into a crowd, now do we?”

  The sergeant shook his head.

  “We'd better not. Not on my watch,” the commander snarled as he paced in his office. “Next?”

  “We're um, still working on who will be in charge since you don't want Co …, I mean Lieutenant Steele left in charge here in your absence, sir.”

  “I'll work on that,” the commander growled.

  <(>^<)>

  “Felica passed on a tip. The enforcers think a professional group is going to try to hit ET loans. Probably during the parade or ceremony. Are you still interested in buzzing the parade? I think we should be on the lookout for that,” Jake said.

  “If she passed it on, it means Feral will have enforcers inside the bank waiting for the robbers to pick the lock or blow it open,” Chance said. He shrugged, flipping through a magazine before he tossed it onto the pile. It's slick gloss finish made it slip off the top but not before it disturbed the pile and the entire stack toppled over.

  “Ah, Chance,” Jake sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.

  “What? I'll clean it up,” Chance replied.

  Red alert klaxons and lights began to blare. Both cats looked up in alarm. “What … someone outside? Do we have a rat again?”

  Jake frowned as he padded over to the nearest tablet and picked it up. A couple inputs and he had the answer. “No, it's worse, much worse. According to this it's a planetary emergency.”

  “Hot damn!” Chance said, bending over to finish cleaning up the pile. “I mean that's bad,” he said in more normal tones. He saw Jake's ears go flat and frowned, body stilling. “That bad, eh?” he asked.

  “Stop being a glory hound Chance. This is serious. Apparently ships were just spotted at the B448c jump point, a lot of them. And they aren't friendly. They are making their way to the planet.”

  Chance looked up startled. “Pirates?”

  “Looks that way,” Jake sighed heavily. “We better get to the command center and keep an eye on things,” he said. Chance nodded, cleanup forgotten as he followed his partner to their control room.

  “I guess the mayor's big parade and speech are canceled,” Chance said.

  “With you there is always a silver lining, isn't there?” Jake drawled sarcastically.

  “Just saying,” Chance replied, clearly nettled.

  <(>^<)>

  “My fellow people,” the governor said, shaking his head. “I bring you grave news. As our security alerts have warned, we are facing a dire threat. Not just to our way of life and our … our material goods, but to our lives and our children's lives as well. I am declaring a planetary emergency and initiating martial law. All who wish to defend their homes, please go to your local police, marine recruiter, armory, or sheriff's department for orders. If you have the proper training but no stomach for war, please attend to the hospitals and medical centers. They may be needed soon.”

  “I implore you, do not give in to violence against your fellow people. We are all in this together. Do not, do not riot. Do not loot, do not hoard. It will only tear us apart. We must be a united front.”

  “I am authorizing militia units to stand up in and around Landing and elsewhere.”

  “I am authorizing the local governments to deputize any they need in this emergency situation. They are also authorized to use any force up to and including lethal force to quell any unrest or unlawful behavior. They will use lethal force to defend our homeworld.”

  “If you do not belong to one of the groups I have described, go home. Assess what you have and what you need. We have several days before the Horathian pirates enter orbit around our beautiful world. Do not panic. If you can, seek shelter outside the cities and towns. Hide or take your valuables with you, lock your doors, and head out. But be warned,” he held up a stern finger. “I am ordering the police to maintain a dusk-to-dawn curfew. So if you do not belong out, go back inside.”

  “Our people have recently faced even more dire threats from the Horathians than this one. I speak of the plague they unleashed on our unsuspecting world a few years ago. We shall persevere. We shall in the end win, for we shall be here when the navy comes to trounce them and chase them to hell and back.”

  His eyes glittered. “That is all.”

  The portly mayor was stunned when the broadcast concluded. He kept shaking his head, over and over. “My beautiful parade, the ceremony! Ruined, just ruined!” he wailed.

  “Be glad that we have some warning and thus time to prepare, Mayor,” Callie said firmly.

  “Oh quite right, quite right indeed,” the mayor said, sobering.

  Callie glanced over to the city council, who were arguing about what to do, and then to the one person who their lives rested on. Commander Feral apparently had mixed feelings about the turn of events, but he was a rock—stern, commanding, and seriously pissed. It was obvious he wasn't happy, but he was amused and appreciative that the hoopla had been put off.

  “This is Anna Gora, Knox News reporting,” a rather shaken but familiar feline said from the TV. “It is imperative that you our viewers heed the governor's words, ladies and gentlemen.”

  “Which part, the part where he told them to hunker down or the part where he reminded them to assess what they've got and then see to what they need?” Doctor Simian demanded, clearly affronted.

  “We're going to need to secure the city's valuables,” the commander rumbled. All eyes turned to him. “Law and order is going to be tough to maintain while also dealing with this,” he said shaking his head as he pointed his baton to the screen.

  Anna was going on about remaining calm but the council room was anything but. Callie kept one eye on the broadcast right up until she saw Anna's image replaced by someone else. Someone in uniform.

  “Hush!” she said, standing abruptly. She fumbled with the remote as her shocked coworkers stared at her. When they saw her pointing it at the screen and turning the volume up, they too turned to the screen.

  “My name is Rear Admiral Linnaeus Von Berk. I speak to you from Apache, my flagship. I am indeed a Horathian, a member of the Horathian Empire, but I am by no means a pirate,” the human said, lip curling in disgust. “I come to you in peace, with an offer to enter the empire. You will do so; there is no other choice.”

  “Right, peace. The veiled glove covering the chain mailed fist,” Commander Feral growled.

  “Shh,” the mayor scolded, waving an impatient hand to shush him. The commander glanced his way and then went back to staring at the intruder.

  “My orders, unfortunately, are not to remain in this star system for long.”

  “Probably because he knows the Federation will kick his ass the first chance they get,” Doctor Simian muttered.

  “My orders are to secure the star system and gather what resources the empire requires. You may think of this as taxes or tribute, or a generous donation.” He smiled. “It is non-negotiable. We shall have it. Along the way the Imperial Marines will be securing such intelligence and performing other tasks that do not concern you,” he said airily.

  “Bastard,” Callie muttered. “He really is a pirate.”

  “Scum,” the commander agreed.

  “Any attempt to resist will be met with overwhelming force. I do implore you to think very carefully about what side you want to be on this. You do not want to anger me,” he said, eyes flas
hing. “We come here to liberate you from the oppression of your current government and liberal policies of favoritism to non humans. To that end we will extend our hand in friendship to all humans who wish to aide us. We will restore you to your rightful place as leaders of this world,” he said.

  “Who's he kidding?” Doctor Simian demanded, standing as her fur rose.

  “He's talking about us. He's talking about a eugenics program. Extermination,” Commander Feral growled. “The Federation was right,” he growled.

  “We shall be in orbit in no more than four of your days. You have until then to think carefully about what you intend to do. I am sending a list of materials to meet our initial order. If it is met, as well as a quota of certain other things, then all will go well. If not …,” his smile turned a little ugly. “Well then, we shall have to wait and see, shall we?” he asked. “For the glory of the empire,” he said, cutting the channel.

  Anna Gora gibbered a little, then rustled her papers as she got control of herself. Callie's eyes fell from the TV to the table. She sucked in a breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly. “We're in trouble,” she murmured.

  “Definitely.” The commander growled. “I can't stay here long. All hell is about to break loose. People are liable to panic. And this call for an uprising …,” he shook his head as all eyes fell on him.

  The mayor cleared his throat. “Dear me, do you think humans will follow his lead?”

  “I honestly don't know,” the commander said frowning thoughtfully. “We were appraised of intelligence reports of terrorist and Horathian support cells inside various populations. They were activated on Protodon to form a Fifth Column of militia. We cannot be too careful.”

  “I don't like how they are targeting us. What did we do to them? I don't even know them!” Councilor Trosa said, shaking her head.

  “It's an age-old call of the oppressor. They are taking their cue from the Nazis I'm afraid,” Doctor Simian said, sounding weary and old. All eyes turned to her slowly. “They used the oppression excuse as a rally cry then. It has been used many times. Hate for those who see themselves as oppressed, who can't stand others who are different than they are—close minded, ignorant, and proud of it.”