by Derek Baker
“Oh, and whose fault is that? Not mine!” boasted Haven.
The Wendran, provoked now, drew his weapon, the automatic aiming rifle that his race used in deadly combat. Johnny returned to his former quivering.
“Human, on behalf of Wendra, we do thank you for your services. However, there’s not a chance in the universe you’re going to receive that life of luxury we promised you. You know why?”
Haven, scared as ever, raised his hands in surrender, “Why? Why would you go back on what you said? I held my end of the bargain!”
“One lesson you should learn about the Wendrans is that they never keep their word with other species. We among ourselves are honorable, but we will go to any measure to expand our goals as a whole. Do you humans not have liars among you? Including yourself?”
“But I thought-”
The Wendran interjected, “Oh, I really don’t care what you thought. Know this though: the damage caused by the Martians spreading the word of our invasion will not go unpunished. The invasion must begin as soon as possible, and by soon I mean in the next couple of Earth weeks. It gives us our best chances for success.”
Haven looked confused. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s easy to tell a secret to a dead person,” came the Wendran’s reply.
Before Haven could respond, the Wendran rifle set fire, killing him in an instant.
“Foolish humans…wait until the Emperor hears of this…” muttered the Wendran to himself.
He turned back around, walking back into the ship. The walkway retracted back into the ship, and the ship itself lifted off into the sky, heading for outer space.
Chapter 22
Historians tend to categorize the past times into certain eras. These eras were often than not brought about by a revolution of sorts. The agricultural revolution took humanity from a nomadic hunter-gatherer race to a more settled, community-based species. The industrial revolution summoned folks to the cities, making technology our means of progression. Then came the so-called galactic revolution, changing humanity from a god-fearing, inter-quarreling race to one that was unified, exerting its will unto all other species in space.
It began the day the Wendrans finally came.
~~~~~~~~
Light years away, in the abyss of space, was a moon orbiting a planet, in the manner that Luna orbits the Earth: a single satellite. This moon was called Eridos, and the planet it orbited was none other than Wendra.
Eridos was a dry, dusty realm, incapable of supporting life that required much water. For centuries, however, it had been a place for Wendran prisons. It proved a benefit to the rest of the population to keep its criminals far away, out of sight, out of mind. Sectors of the moon’s surface also served for military ground personnel. If they could survive the harsh living conditions on Eridos’ surface, certainly they’d be fit for combat in any other circumstance, so they figured. As far as recreation went, Wendran hunters often relished the opportunity to hunt the large scorpions that occasionally came up from below ground. It was said their hives held thousands if not millions of them, but they had never proven to be anything but a slight nuisance from time to time. Nothing that the strong, mighty Wendrans couldn’t handle. The most important purpose, however, was the fact that Eridos served as the location of its primary offensive launching base. From here came the invasion that would strike Earth will full force.
Wendra had long abandoned the extra cost of launching from their own planet. Military was primarily defensive on the home world, with the authorities handling the rest of the necessary combat duties, not that anyone ever stood up in protest of Emperor Albalon’s reign. He was feared, but loved at the same time for the success and growing prosperity he had brought to the people. They had no idea, though, what kind of destruction and pain their Emperor’s armies and invasion forces had inflicted upon countless other worlds. Wendrans were not completely without a conscience; they knew it was wrong to wrong others. They knew they were undermining other civilizations, but they had never seen these things happen first hand. A fine line divided the military and civilians. If they could at least know, they might have something to say, not that it would do any good. Billions of unarmed civilians wouldn’t last against the ferociously efficient strength of Wendran auto-aiming rifles.
The force amassed on Eridos was considerable. Larger than most expeditions they had sent out; of course much larger than originally planned. The distance between Earth and Robhustare was delicately close, and adding the extra setback that Robhustare knew the attack would come eventually, it became not only a matter of invading Earth but of adding reinforcements to defend the counter attack that was sure to subsequently follow.
Unfortunately for their sake but luckily for us, they were going to need more than that, as formidable as their force was.
“Quansor, could you hand me that mug of water?” His crescent shaped eyes followed his advisor’s hand. “Yes, that one to your right.”
He grasped the mug awkwardly with his doubly thumbed hands, bringing its brim to his mouth, then savoring the freshly poured liquid and swishing it between both cheeks before swallowing satisfactorily. He exhaled with an equally content nature.
“There will be plenty more of that when this invasion proves successful, your highness,” Quansor remarked, eyeing his master’s mug enviously. “How do you like the first taste of Earth water?”
“Delightfully more refreshing than the water on Wendra, that’s for sure.” He looked out the window, only to see an adjacent building across the narrow road in the military base. Everything was darker here, more depressing, not to his liking. The sky was thin; one could see the brightest stars during the day through the orangey atmosphere. He wished to be back in his palace as soon as possible, back on Wendra, where the mood was considerably cheerier. “The water on Wendra tastes too…processed. Do you agree, Quansor?”
“Yes, I certainly do. There are many mineral and elemental additives that the humans enjoy. Prime material for trading, my lord.”
“Perhaps we will now have something to offer to the damn Outer Ones.” His face grew grim and distant.
“What are you talking about, your highness?”
“Don’t worry, Quansor; it really is none of your concern. I need you to lead my battles, not my ambassadorial duties. I see the confused expression on your face, so I suppose I’ll tell you. Defeating Robhustare is likely the last step we will have to take in order to ward off interference before regrouping and continuing to expand our influence. You see, throughout my entire tenure I have sent thousands of emissaries in all directions, seeking to find someone stronger than us, to find our next greatest threat after Robhustare. I found a few here and there around the galaxy, but nothing we couldn’t handle with time and preparation.”
“You’ve been in contact with species on the other side of the galaxy?” Quansor was visibly impressed.
“Only routine for me, but yes, remarkable to others. The galaxy is only so old, Quansor. It takes billions of years for intelligent life and civilizations to sprout up out of their host worlds. The only species that would be more advanced than us, are…well, adapted to another dimension, as bizarre as that sounds. They exist at the center of the galaxy, far beyond what any mortals could even begin to comprehend.”
“There’s…god-like creatures that could wipe us out?” Quansor wasn’t sure why his boss was telling him all of this. Was he trying to scare him? Intimidate him? Confuse him? Or was this just a joke?
“They could if they wanted to, but they’ve lost touch with our realm. They simply don’t care what happens, it’s not in their nature. Their reality, their way of thinking, their everything is warped, changed with evolution. They aren’t even the conventional type of life form; they exist as globs of energy.” The Emperor shrugged indifferently. “Oh well, there may be little to understand, but what I do understand is that they’re nothing to worry about. However, I did find something outside of the galaxy that was of
tremendous concern to me.”
The abrupt change in attitude startled Quansor, but he regained his composure with a jolt. “And that would be?”
“The Outer Ones.”
“That’s what you call them?” he nervously tapped his thumbs back and forth on his lap, unseen by the Emperor.
“I don’t really know what else to call them, Quansor. But they’re what I had feared the most: a civilization that is still actively hostile and would see our defeat in the instance we pissed them off.”
Quansor remembered the remark Albalon made about offering something to them. “So, you wish to offer them Earth water in exchange for not obliterating us?”
“Very good, you passed your exams, student. With them off our backs, we’d be free to do whatever we wanted for a good few generations so long as I’m still alive. Who knows, we could try to take over the entire galaxy! Though that would take centuries, probably. I’m confident that Beltrush would extend my policies, though. He’s a strong boy, just the way I had hoped for him to turn out to be. Very smart, maybe even smarter than me. But don’t ever tell anyone I said that. Don’t tell a soul about any of this in general.”
“Of course, my lord, that’s all part of the job, after all,” Quansor darted his eyes uneasily. A light on his command pad beeped that a message had just been received. “Oh look, it’s the signal we’ve been waiting for.”
“Answer it.”
A hologram appeared before the pair on the table, revealing a scraggly looking Wendran admiral named Traquir.
“Your highness,” he bowed, “and Commander Quansor,” he bowed again. “The fleet is ready to launch at your order, my lord.”
Albalon nodded solemnly. “Very good, Admiral, set the launch to go off in half an hour. That will give me time to travel over and watch the show.”
“As you wish, your highness.”
Suddenly a distressed voice came through the transmission, sounding like a yell in the background. The Admiral’s tone became much more urgent: “My lord! Our radars have just picked up numerous ships .5 AU out from Eridos, looks to be like Robhustarian.”
“How many, what strength?” The Emperor rose from his chair, ready to meet the challenge to his offense.
“Several hundred, mostly small fighters. They’ve either got stalkers patrolling the sector or we’ve got a spy.”
“Fuck!” Albalon smashed his fist into the table, actually leaving a small dent as facilitated by Eridos’ lesser gravity. “Proceed with the launch immediately, Traquir. This mindless interference will only mean more certain destruction to both them and Earth!”
“Yes sir.” The transmission died.
~~~~~
The brave Martian pilots who flew towards Eridos knew they were on a suicide mission with all of the heavy fortification in preparation for the launch of this new invasion fleet. If they could simply weaken this coming onslaught that could potentially mean the end of their civilization’s freedom it would be a successful mission with life or death being the final result at the end of the day’s work.
They winged into formation, poised to attack their designated targets. Don’t mind the little ones; only go for the fuel sources and the mother ships, they’d been told.
The twin suns of the Wendran system gleamed brightly in the reflection of the fighters. They also bounced their light off the growing star in the distance: Wendra. If only they were able to go there, instead of the worthless moon that orbited it. The day of glory and victory was not today.
The suns would shine on for billions of years to come. The life inside these pilots’ hearts could go only so far. Logic dictated the sacrifice was necessary to benefit the majority. If only Mars could keep from getting wrapped up in interstellar affairs! To return to the warmth and coziness of the underground cities…one might forget there was even an outer space at all. To lie down in a little dwelling, to sprawl out on the comforting bed, to drink some wine before falling asleep peacefully. One could just imagine it. Perhaps they’d return to their fantasies in some way, in some other dimension.
The fighters poured through the thin atmosphere of the moon, anti-spacecraft missiles blazing around them. Some were unlucky enough to be in their way. The massive military complex spread before them, the invasion fleet beginning its launch, the mother ships rising slowly and gaining altitude.
The fleet charged in that direction, meanwhile ignoring all the resistance. It proved costly but effective in the long run. They needed to destroy the important stuff, stuff that could certainly pack a punch, the vessels that carried the nukes. Not that they would want to nuke anything anyway and spoil their prize.
A few dozen of the Martian fighters clumped together, preparing to take a shot at the mother ship that had gained the highest ground thus far. The fuel cells became locked into their aiming mechanisms.
“Fire at will!” Called the officer.
Beams of energy all directed to the one spot that mattered on the Wendran ship, flawlessly cutting power to the entire vessel. Explosions abounded, doubling and tripling with each subsequent detonation. A final detonation signaled the demise of the ship along with the hundreds of lives that made the mother ship run. Cheers flooded the Martian air waves.
This same process happened a couple more times, but proved more difficult each time. Too many Martian vessels were falling too fast. One was hit by a missile here, another collided headfirst with a Wendran fighter, until one by one only a handful remained.
“This is it, my friends,” the last officer said heavily.
They regrouped and headed towards one final target: the compound where it was believed the communications headquarters was stationed. Little did they know the Wendran Emperor himself was inside.
“Oh shit, oh shit! They’re heading this way!” The Emperor screamed as he jabbed the elevator button to take him and Quansor deep underground. They had been watching the battle through the armored window until they realized they had become the targets. He clicked his hand held communicator, “IF A SINGLE FIGHTER GETS TO THIS BUILDING IT’LL BE YOUR HEAD, ADMIRAL!!”
The door of the elevator finally closed.
The fighters neared the compound, huddled together in a final attempt to deal some damage. Too little too late.
A massive mother ship crept up behind the group, setting its various lasers on each one of them.
A flash was their only warning before descending into oblivion, unknowingly mere seconds away from killing the one man behind their horrible fates.
~~~~~
The tablet rang a couple times before she awoke to answer it. Her room was dark and cool, an easy place to forget the rest of the day.
“Hello?” she squeaked out, tired as ever.
“Minister-Elect Presley? This is Alexander Curtis, I have some urgent news from Chym’Buk’Tai.
Ah yes, the boy. The boy! The war! The aliens!
She sprung up in bed, careful not to wake her slumbering husband next to her. “Yes? What happened? The attack, was it-?”
“It was definitely a significant blow to their forces, but they’re continuing the offensive as planned. We have maybe anywhere from twenty-four to thirty-six hours now.”
“The fighters?”
“All lost, ma’am.”
She mouthed a quick prayer to herself. Not that she really believed in anything anymore, just as a habit in spite of everything.
“I’ll make the calls. The defensive measures will be ready. As for you, find somewhere safe and underground, this is going to be messy, I’m sure.”
“You do the same, ma’am, I can only imagine what this must like for you. Only months ago the reality you thought was real was shattered and you’ve now been entrusted your entire planet to defend. All beliefs have changed, all expectations, all circumstances and ways of operating altered. The rules of the game haven’t changed, the but the game itself has become an entirely new one. All I can say is, props to you, Mrs. Presley.”
“Perhaps you will know what it
’s like someday, too, Mr. Curtis.”
“I think I will.”
Chapter 23
The city of Tai swarmed with refugees already, before the invasion had even begun. Government officials, VIP’s, and the wealthy began crowding into the section of the city already built and awaiting their arrival, comprising of rows and rows of small apartments with minimal necessities. Some people were taken to other cities like Sev or Krei. All a measure taken to ensure anyone who was anybody survived the war at this stage at least.
One of the shuttles carried Minister-Elect Ashton Presley along with one of her newly trusted aides Alexander Curtis, my friend from whom I had begun to grow apart. I have no idea why they didn’t just call her the Minister already; it’s not like there was an incumbent she would be replacing. The new world government, now being called the “Coalition” (seeing as it contained dozens of nations who had given up their sovereignty), was by this point running the show. It’d be another month before Presley would be formally inaugurated, but in truth she was the real representative of Earth, the voice of humanity.
Another shuttle carried my folks. As happy as I was that they were safe on Mars, it pained me to know how many unprivileged families would suffer and die back on Earth.
Precisely the reason I planned to defend my planet.
I sat in the cockpit of my fighter that morning, along with thousands of other ships about to ascend the great tunnel to space above the cavern city of Tai. The plan was simple: destroy the Wendran mother ships directing the attack and send them packing back to Wendra.
I looked around: all I could see for miles were the tips of the other single fighters as I peered in every direction. Most contained Martian pilots, though some like mine were holding humans.