Theogony 1: Janissaries

by Chris Kennedy

  General Dixon smiled. “Along with the platoon recommendations, my staff also put together a list for how we might assemble the squadron based on the nations and services that were participating in the ground unit. The list suggests a USAF officer as executive officer for the squadron and then three other USAF pilots, another three from the navy, two Canadians, two Japanese, a Korean, a Brit, a German and an Australian.”

  Both the CNO and air force chief of staff asked to see the list, and he passed them each a copy with their names already on it. “That’s 16 people,” said the air force officer, looking at his list. “I thought we were going with eight crews for the six fighters on the spaceship.”

  “We are,” said the CNO. “Didn’t you hear? The fighters are two-seaters. One for the pilot and one for the weapons system operator (WSO).” The chief of staff was a former F-16 fighter pilot, who liked doing everything himself and didn’t believe in WSOs. He would rather have had an extra 200 pounds of gas. The CNO had been one of the last A-6E Intruder pilots when he had first come into the navy. He found the chief of staff’s viewpoint shortsighted, having seen first-hand the benefits that a task-based division of labor could bring to a two-person crew. There’s just no way that you can look outside the cockpit to watch for enemies when you’re looking down to flip switches.

  “OK,” said the president, “that’s a good start. I will work with Isabel to bring the nations that we need onboard, while the services put together their plans for manning the platoon and the squadron. No one is authorized to bring anyone else in on ‘Olympos’ without my expressed authorization. Work together to build a plausible cover story that we will use until the news finally breaks. And nobody talks to the Psiclopes about any of this. I want to talk to them first.”

  Everybody left to pursue their tasking, already deep in thought for how they could accomplish everything that was on their plates.

  Arges smiled from where he watched, invisible, nodding in satisfaction. Bill Jacobs was a better leader than he had thought. Maybe this species wouldn’t be eradicated, after all, like so many before them had.

  Tom Sommers’ House, North Bend, WA, September 9, 2018

  “Why me?” asked Calvin as he sat sipping a beer at the kitchen table in the Sommers’ house. There was already talk that not only was he going to remain the commanding officer of the Ranger platoon, but also he was going to be in charge of the space fighter group on the spaceship. While he was willing to do both in order to be the first human to get to fly a no-shit space fighter, he knew that his lazy afternoons were rapidly coming to an end. He had been scrambling to get the last bit of paperwork completed before he had to take on those tasks, and he had just finished the last award, which was why he was treating himself to a well-earned beverage.

  Calvin and Sara had been enjoying some quality time alone when Steropes had arrived. Unusual for the Psiclops, he had actually used the front door rather than just showing up in their midst like he normally did. Calvin had appreciated the good manners. Steropes had refused a beer claiming that the alcohol affected them differently than it did humans.

  “What do you mean, ‘why you?’” Steropes asked.

  “He means,” said Sara cutting Calvin off, “why is it so important that Calvin goes on this mission? Why is it so important for him to lead the platoon? Why is it so important for him to also have to lead the fighter squadron on the spaceship, too?”

  “That’s a lot of ‘whys,’” said Steropes. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer them. Arges thought it important for him to be there and to be in charge.”

  “You can’t answer them?” asked Calvin “or you won’t answer them?”

  “To tell you the truth,” replied Steropes, “it is actually a little of both. Arges has a feeling that it is important for you to be in charge of the military contingent. I learned a long time ago to listen to his feelings.”

  Calvin considered the answer for a couple of seconds and then asked, “I guess the real question I have is, why do I have to command both the ground force and the space fighter squadron? I can foresee times when both might be in action at the same time. How am I supposed to do both of them?”

  Steropes gave a very human shrug. “I have no idea,” he replied. “I guess you’ll figure it out when you need to.”

  “But how am I supposed to get any time with him,” asked Sara, “if he has to put together two different groups, train them, supply them and get them ready to go to space in six months? He was going to take some leave so we could go on a vacation together, but now that has been cancelled.”

  “I’m sorry that it has to be this way,” said Steropes, “but his presence is important, even crucial, to the success of your people as they go down the path they’re on. What is the happiness of two people when compared with the prospect of your whole race being eaten alive?”

  Deep Underground Command Center, Washington, DC, September 26, 2018

  Leaders from all of the nations that had assisted the U.S. in the Sino-American War had been invited to the White House for a formal dinner and “thank you” from the President of the United States. The United States had been in trouble and had asked for assistance. Now that the crisis was over, the U.S. wanted to show its gratitude to those that had honored their commitments. It was all very above board.

  Although everyone appeared to leave after the event, not all of the foreign leaders actually did. Body doubles took the places of the prime ministers of Britain, Canada, Australia, and Japan, as well as the presidents of Germany, South Korea, India, Italy, and Chile. The real leaders went to meet with the President of the United States in the DUCC’s conference room, over half a mile below the White House.

  “Thank you for coming,” said the president, “and for your trust in meeting with me like this.” None of the leaders had been allowed to bring any of their aides or staff, and no notes were being taken. The only thing on the conference table was a stack of folders by the president. All of the foreign leaders were impressed with the facility. In the preceding three weeks, it had become a beehive of activity and now had a very ‘lived-in’ look. “I’m sorry for all of the secrecy that was required to get you here, but I believe that you will all agree that it was necessary.”

  He looked around the room at the well dressed men and woman; for the second term in a row, the South Koreans had elected a woman president. “Before we go any further, I would like you to give me your word that what we discuss in this room will stay a secret for one year. At that point, it will be made common knowledge at a joint press conference. Do I have your word?”

  Everyone nodded their heads except the Japanese prime minister, who raised his hand. “Sadly, I cannot give you my word on something that I haven’t heard yet. My duty is to my country, and if the secret involves something damaging to my nation, I would be caught between honor and duty.”

  The president had expected at least one head of state to express such a reservation and was prepared for it. “I understand and respect your position,” President Jacobs replied. “However, your participation is crucial to this discussion. How about this? I promise that nothing we will discuss will be damaging to your nation and, if after hearing what I have to tell you, you feel that you can’t keep it secret, you will give me three days to announce it. Are those terms agreeable?

  “Yes they are,” replied the Japanese prime minister with a bow, “and thank you for your consideration.”

  The president also bowed, saying, “You’re welcome.”

  “Lady and gentlemen,” began the president, savoring the anticipation in the room, “I have asked you here this evening because you are either long-time allies of ours or were nations that helped us during our recent war. As such, we want to have you with us at the beginning of a momentous journey. We have been contacted by aliens that need our assistance.”

  Having seen all of the security precautions that had been taken, the heads of state had expected something momentous, but they had expected something related to the r
ecently completed war. Not something like aliens. Gasps and choruses of “oh, my god” in various languages filled the room. In addition to a general feeling of excitement, there were several suspicious and uncomfortable looks around the table as several of the leaders tried to determine what kind of game the United States was playing.

  The President of Chile, in particular, felt out of place in this group, as his nation was neither a NATO member, nor a long-time U.S. ally. The only Spanish-speaking member of the group, and the only nation from South America, he wondered why the United States had included his country in such a momentous secret. Because Chile had offered the assistance of a few planes and ships in a war thousands of miles away? Surely, this was a joke. “I’m sorry,” President Diego Rojas said, “but did you just say that you had been contacted by aliens? Do you mean aliens from another planet or illegal aliens from another country?”

  “I mean aliens from another planet,” said Bill Jacobs. He looked behind him.

  The leaders drew a collective breath as the Psiclopes became visible. “This is Arges, Steropes and Brontes,” introduced the president. “They are the Psiclopes, meaning ‘those who see with their minds.’”

  Arges stepped forward. “As the president said, I am Arges, and these are my friends Brontes and Steropes. Thank you very much for coming here today. We would prefer that news of our presence not get out to the rest of the world at the moment. It is unfortunate that we have had to reveal ourselves, but we need your help. The communications relay to our home world has ceased functioning, and we do not know why. It might have broken, but it is far more likely that it was destroyed by a hostile race, possibly the Drakuls. We need to go and ascertain which of these things has occurred, but we need assistance in manning our ship.”

  “Who are these Drakuls of which you speak?” asked the British prime minister.

  “Imagine a ten foot tall carnivorous frog,” replied the president, “and you have a Drakul. They like their meat raw when they eat it, still alive if possible, and like to drink its blood prior to consuming it. They are nasty, brutal and vicious.”

  “Drakuls?” asked the German president, somewhat in disbelief. “As in Dracula?”

  “Yes,” replied Arges. “Just like that. Drakuls made it to Earth once, a long time ago. We thought that we had killed them all, but one got away and established himself in the mountains of Romania. He did his best not to attract our attention, and he was successful for a long time. Eventually, he ate enough of the locals that the rumors of him spread, and we were finally made cognizant of his presence. We subsequently eliminated him.”

  “Couldn’t Dracula turn people into vampires or the undead?” asked the British prime minister.

  “Converting people into vampires is a fallacy,” answered Arges, “but when they bite someone, the Drakuls do inject a poison into them. The venom works like a mind control agent, and the victim will do whatever the Drakul that bit the person tells him or her to do. This is usually just to wait somewhere until the Drakul is hungry again, but they can also be told simple commands like ‘guard’ and ‘attack.’ Victims may appear to be converted, but they are simply under control of a toxic agent. With regard to the victim being undead, there is some veracity in that, as the first thing the poison does is to destroy all of the higher level brain functions of its victim. The brain ceases to function, but the body is not dead. For all intents and purposes, victims of the Drakul are, indeed, the undead.”

  “So,” said the German president, “We can either join the team, help out and work to defeat the Drakuls, or we can be eaten alive. Not much choice there. Consider Germany to be ‘in.’

  “Australia is ‘in,’ too, mate,” said the Australian prime minister. “What do you need from us?”

  “In the interest of time,” broke in the U.S. president, “by a show of hands, is there anyone that is not ‘in?’” No hands went up. “Thank you for your support,” said the president, “and welcome to Olympos, the code name for the effort to assist the Psiclopes and defend the planet. The first thing that I need to tell you is that there are going to be requirements for membership in this group that are going to be non-negotiable. The biggest of these is that, once the word gets out, there will be financial obligations.”

  “We are hoping to send out the first mission within about six months, with it returning approximately six months later. At that time, we will announce that we have made contact with the Psiclopes and that our focus has shifted from terrestrial obligations to defense of the Solar System. We will unilaterally withdraw from all of our previous treaties and implement a new one, the Treaty for the Defense of Sol. Within one year of the announcement, developed nations will be expected to spend 30% of their GDPs on defense; high developing nations will be expected to spend 20% on defense and low developing nations 10%. We will be standardizing all defense systems for interoperability and implementing a single combined military. It won’t be the United States’ military, but the Terran military. Everyone that participates will have the same opportunities for command; senior level promotions will be made by a board that is made up by representatives of all participating nations.”

  “I’m sure you’re all wondering, ‘what’s in it for me if I participate?’” asked the president. Several heads nodded. “While I’d love to call upon everyone’s honor and say it’s the right thing to do, I know you are going to have to sell this to your citizens. First and foremost, your nation will have access to the Psiclopes’ technology. In the brief discussions we have had with them, we have found that their technology is far beyond ours. Our scientists agree that the nations that don’t have access will be completely left behind by those that do within five years and will be unable to compete economically. Most agree that will happen within three years.” He looked around the room. “This isn’t meant as a threat; it is economic reality. We are not going to share this technology with those countries that aren’t willing to do their parts, nor are we going to allow them to steal it.”

  The German president nodded and stage-whispered to the British prime minister seated next to him, “Now we see why the French weren’t invited.”

  “I’m not pointing fingers at anyone,” said the U.S. president, who, like everyone else, heard the ‘whisper.’ “Everyone will be treated equally, but everyone will be held to the same standards. If some nations don’t want to participate to that standard, so be it.” He paused. “Lady and gentlemen, we are at a crossroads in human history. We have been told that the Drakuls have wiped out nearly every civilization that they have faced. I intend to do everything I can to ensure that doesn’t happen to us. Even with the injection of Psiclopes technology, it is unlikely that we will be successful by ourselves. We need everyone to work together to help save the human race.”

  “OK,” said the British prime minister, “you have our support. If we can’t discuss this publicly for a year, why are you telling us about it now?”

  “The purpose of this meeting today is two-fold,” said the president. “First, as friends, I wanted to make you aware, so that you can begin looking at options as to how you will bring your economies up to a full war footing. That way, when the time comes, the transition can be made as seamlessly as possible. The announcement of aliens is going to cause turmoil; this will give us time to plan for it so that we can reduce the chaos to a minimum. For our part, we are going to announce that we are looking at ways of preventing another event like the Chinese invasion of Seattle. That will give us an excellent cover story for studies to transition our economy to a state of war. It also provides a cover for looking at fighting wars in places we never expected and the development of new technology.”

  “The second reason for today’s meeting is to invite you to participate in our first journey into space. We will be sending a mission to assist the Psiclopes, who have a spaceship that we will be crewing for the journey. We are inviting you to participate in both the space fighter wing that we will be deploying, as well as in the ground unit that wi
ll be accompanying them. The Psiclopes have asked for a certain group from the war to be the basis of the ground force, but it will need augmentation, and we want to include you in this from the beginning. We have looked at our needs and the capabilities of your forces, and we have come up with some suggestions for where you might best be able to participate.” The president passed the stack of folders in front of him down the conference table. Each one had a country’s name and flag on the outside.

  “If you would take the folder with your country’s flag on the outside,” President Jacobs continued, “you can see what we would like you to provide. The cover story for both of these units is that we are forming ‘Centers of Excellence’ (COE) to develop new methods of training and employing special operations troops and aviation units, based on our experiences during the war. We are going to tell the press that we have analyzed the world’s forces and are opening up the COEs for our allies to participate. We will be looking for ‘free thinkers’ from your militaries; we want soldiers and airmen that will be able to deal with aliens, new technologies and a journey into space.”

  “This trip also opens up some additional prospects for the future. For example, the Psiclopes’ ship runs on Helium-3. While it is fueled for this trip, they will need more for the next time it goes out. One thing we noted on our moon landings last century was a relative abundance of Helium-3 on the moon. I am also proposing a new, joint mission to build a base on the moon. We can say it is to collect Helium-3 for a new fusion reactor project, which we want to use to generate clean, safe power. My experts tell me that Helium-3 fusion is possible and that as much as 70% of the energy in the fuel could be captured and put directly to work. We would, however, need a much larger source than what is naturally found on the Earth; we’d need to extract it from the moon. Not only will we harvest it from the moon for additional trips through space, but the Helium-3 will also give us an additional source of cheap, clean energy to power our societies.”