Horizons

by Donald B McFarlane

  “What have you got?” Joe asked the Sentinel Commander who was kneeling a metre to Joe’s right.

  “Five enemy Sentinels on the beach. They seem to be in a stalemate with the defenders of the PCS.”

  Joe could hear the rapid weapons fire in the distance and knew from the occasional burst of rifle and machine-gun fire, there were at least a few humans left on the beach.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We attack at full speed. I’ll send a transmission to the forces on the beach to shift their fire upon our approach.”

  Joe quickly checked his weapon and looked at Rhea who was kneeling in between the mighty robot and Joe. “You might want to stay here.” He suggested.

  “I don’t want to be left in the woods by myself.” She looked towards the beach, “I’ll stay behind you guys.”

  Joe nodded, then looked at the SC. “Okay. I’ll take the left side.”

  “Affirmative.”

  The pair rose from their crouched positions in unison. Joe figured it was just under one hundred yards to the beach, and then another twenty or thirty to the PCS. If all went to plan, their attack would neutralise the Coalition ground threat, but Joe also knew that if the bulk of the hostile forces were in his arc of responsibility, he’d be hard-pressed to deal with them all.

  Bringing the butt of the weapon to his shoulder, he peered through the optics system and closed his eyes and focused for a brief second and lowered the rifle, then quickly brought it back up and drew a bead on a tree fifteen yards away. The weapon and sights were lined up perfectly, he was ready for the attack.

  He looked over at the SC who was still carrying the large energy rifle and gave him the thumbs up. The robot detected the movement and looked at Joe.

  “Don’t worry, Major. You won’t die alone.” The robot let out a metallic chuckle. “Let’s do this.”

  Joe brought his head back to his front and stepped off on his attack run. The chemicals that had been injected into his system were still as potent as ever. He moved swiftly through the woods, every low-hanging branch appeared in high-definition, and every possible stumbling point was skipped over like a dancer for the Bolshoi. The rifle felt light in his hands, and as he approached the beach, he started to develop a mental map of where the combatants were based on the sounds from the discharge of weapons.

  Thirty yards from the beach he could tell that three of the five hostile robots were in his sector of responsibility, but Joe counted on the element of surprise to level the playing field.

  Twenty yards from the edge of the wood line Joe heard the comms traffic warning the forces on the beach to anticipate their arrival, it was now just a matter of executing his attack to within an inch of perfection.

  Fifteen yards from the beach everything turned to slow motion for Joe as his senses went into overdrive, and with a clean shot on one of the Sentinels, he brought his weapon to bear and pulled the trigger. A slight hiss emanated from the rifle as the laser bolt rocketed towards the unsuspecting machine.

  By the time Joe was five yards closer to the beach, he was close enough for the enemy robots to detect Joe’s movement, just in time for the round he fired to vaporise one of their numbers heads.

  Spinning to meet the new threat, the robots immediately returned fire at an impressive rate, showering the woods with laser blasts. Joe had anticipated this response and had executed a lateral combat roll to his left, quickly coming up into a kneeling position, his head just below the barrage of fire that the Coalition Sentinels had fired off, and with a second well aimed shot, Joe dispatched a second robot.

  Still a few yards into the tree line, Joe swiftly moved to a secondary position behind a large tree, but that move had been anticipated, and the third robot had pelted the tree with fire, shattering the base, sending fragments of wood shooting in all directions as the tree itself fell to the ground with a mighty thud.

  Looking for new cover, Joe dropped to his belly, and rolled to his right, firing wildly as the robot lurched towards the woods, still pouring fire at Joe. The ground around Joe was pelted with fire and started to smoke from the intense heat that the energy weapons produced.

  Realising that he needed to try something different, Joe rolled onto his belly, and pushed himself off the ground and quickly took two paces to his rear. With the rifle still glued to his cheek, he darted his eyes left and right, looking for the robot that had somehow escaped his field of vision.

  With his senses tweaked to such an exceptional degree, he closed his eyes for a split second and focused on his hearing, and almost in an instant, he heard the faintest hum of the Sentinels reactor just off to his left. Opening his eyes, Joe swung his torso to the left, eyes as wide as saucers, searching for his target.

  The red paint of the Coalition robot did not help with its concealment, but as soon as Joe spotted the machine out of the corner of his eye, he could tell it was firing at him. Without thinking of a course of action, Joe instinctively dove to his right, while firing off a wild burst of shots.

  His shots failed to hit their target, but the Sentinel had been more calculating with its aim, and one of its shots hit Joe’s left leg just above the knee, drilling through the armour, then the flesh and bone, before ripping the appendage off cleanly.

  Falling to the ground, Joe let out a scream of pain and looked down at the cauterised stump where the rest of his leg used to be. Trying to bring his focus back to the hostile threat, Joe could notice his vision getting blurred, and his limbs weak for the briefest of time before the chemicals that had been injected into his body rallied, sending a rush of adrenaline surging through his wounded body.

  As his focus sharpened, Joe brought his weapon back to bear on the approaching robot and squeezed the trigger letting off a barrage of fire striking the machine diagonally across its torso, and driving it forcefully down to the ground with a very satisfying crashing sound.

  Letting out a deep breath, Joe relaxed from his position, and lay on his back, and breathed in deep through his nostrils, and closed his eyes. The forest was silent except the sound of approaching footsteps. There was still the loud noise coming from atop the PCS, and the buzz of drones dashing across the sky, but the beach and the woods had become still and silent. Down the beach, he could hear the noise of feet making their way towards him in the sand and the shout of ‘medic’ from a Canadian accent.

  A small smile crept across his face when he remembered what the Sentinel Commander had told him about the injections that he was going to take, they were only good for thirty minutes and then he was a dead man. It was either that or combat with some robot from the other side of the galaxy. He supposed he picked the better of the two options.

  And just as his eyelids were getting heavy, he could hear Rhea shout something in the distance. The sound of her voice helped relax Joe as he closed his eyes, and continued to slow his breathing.

  26

  When the relief ships jumped into orbit the mood in the command suite of the Rock improved instantly, and so did the course of the battle. While the 73rd Reach Guard Garrison Squadron had been decimated, the remaining Coalition ships immediately started to warm up their jump drives in an attempt to flee, but their efforts were in vain.

  Jaxos was the home of the 3rd Fleet, and as per Fleet standard operating procedures, they had a quick reaction force on standby all the time, and when the six, new starships appeared above Earth, the Coalition knew that they were completely outgunned, and the remaining ships were quickly dispatched.

  And just as quickly as they had appeared, five of the ships jumped back to Jaxos, ready to respond to the next crisis of the day. The lone ship that lingered was a carrier, and it quickly launched its flock of one hundred fighters towards the planet surface, supported by double that number of drones. Their destination was Vancouver. Keegan had heard that the city and the PCS were under attack, he just hoped the relief was going to arrive in time.

  Before the five ships jumped out, the task force commander signalled to
The Rock that recovery and medical ships would be dispatched to aid the stricken ships, some of which were floating through the system without power.

  When Keegan asked Obo what would be done with the Coalition ships that were out of action, he was horrified to hear that it was Alliance protocol to have them pushed into the nearest star. No attempts were ever made to board the ships and offer aid to the crew, or even salvage the ships. The risk was too high of Sentinels being on the ships, or the ships being booby-trapped by their crews.

  “Listen, human.” Obo pointed at a small screen that was sprinkled in a series of flashing dots. “We need to recover the crew members that had to abandon their ships before their air supplies run out. I do not have time to worry about the enemy. We’ll attach towing sledges to each ship, and have them dragged into your sun.” Obo brought his arm down and turned away from Keegan.

  Still shocked by what he had heard, Keegan shook his head and turned towards the door. Lysa had already walked onto the bridge and was looking out of the now opened view screen.

  In the distance Keegan could see the charred remains of the light carrier that had been part of the 73rd, now floating lifelessly in the darkness of space. Its carcass was surrounded by fragments of what once was a portion of its drone forces. The bridge of The Rock had fallen into an ominous silence, its once majestic panelling was heavily damaged and even burned badly in some places. There was blood on the floor near the star pilots seat, which was empty.

  Joining Lysa near the view screen, Keegan struggled to find any of the other ships that had participated in the battle. He knew that there were other ships scattered around the system, it was eerie how the darkness of space acted like the perfect hiding place for them from the naked eye.

  A flash of light off the port bow of the ship caught Keegan’s attention. Trying to focus on the spot where the flash had appeared, he again struggled to see anything.

  “Did you see that?” He asked Lysa who was staring blankly out the window.

  “No.” She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. “I didn’t expect this.”

  Keegan let out a sigh and looked at his colleague. “I’m not sure if any of us did.”

  “Well, I don't know if I can stomach much more of it.”

  Before Keegan could respond, a voice from behind him announced that the medical ship had arrived, and was currently positioned near Mars. A short creature with skin that resembled lizard scales and whom Keegan didn’t recognise moved to the star pilots seat and took the controls.

  “Where is the Star Pilot?” Keegan asked the creature. Looking up at Keegan, the creature blinked twice before looking back down at the controls. Keegan shrugged and turned around to see that Pullo Obo had taken a seat in his command chair, broken arm now in a simple sling.

  The black beast was leaning on his good elbow, looking out past Keegan at the vastness of space. It was the first time that Keegan had seen Obo without his usual air of aggressiveness and power. Sitting on what was the throne of the kingdom that was his ship he looked deflated and utterly exhausted.

  Keegan was confident that when the final tally of the dead was put down, it would not be a small figure. The fact that Obo was prepared to dispose of all the damaged Coalition ships had condemned anyone alive on those ships to a certain death. This was proving to be a war without mercy.

  Looking back to his front, it dawned on him that they had been quite lucky. If the Keeper ship hadn’t been knocked out of action, there was an excellent chance that they would be dead and that the Earth would be falling under the control of the Coalition, which made him suddenly realise that there was no guarantee that the Coalition wouldn’t return, and this time with a greater force.

  That was it. Childhood's end. Earth was now a part of the war that had been bleeding the Alliance and the Coalition dry for seventy years, and now it was humanities turn to suffer. There was no turning back. They didn’t have the capacity to defend themselves, or even offer an olive branch to the Coalition if they even wanted to do so. Terra was now going to fall under the jurisdiction of the Alliance, whether anyone liked it or not. If the Alliance were rebuked, then Earth would indeed fall victim to the advances of the Coalition, and Keegan saw no reason to feel comfortable in the victory that had just been won, it was a temporary reprieve at best.

  27

  The mood in the White House Situation Room had fluctuated all over the spectrum since the incursion of Coalition forces, and now that the battle had been over for just ten minutes, there was a sombre feeling amongst those sitting around the large table that occupied the centre of the room. Now that the chaos of the battle had ended, it was time for the President to figure what possible actions were available to them.

  Charles Bednarik sat at the end of the table, his left elbow set in front of him while he rubbed his eyes gently before bringing up his gaze and looking around the room. All his senior cabinet and advisors had been present since word had arrived from the PCS that enemy ships had jumped into the system, and they had been fed a constant stream of data in an attempt to keep them informed as things unfolded on Earth and above it.

  The mood had reached its low point when the entire strike force from Mountain Home, Idaho had been wiped out after only destroying just one of the enemy drones that were dominating the airspace over Vancouver. When the relief force had jumped into orbit, it had buoyed spirits, and a final jubilation had surged through the room after the fighter craft from the friendly carrier had finally cleared the remaining drones. And now, as the adrenaline began to fade from the bloodstream, a sense of gloom fell back upon the occupants of the room.

  “Right.” The president sat up and pushed back the stack of papers that were sitting in front of him. “Where do we go from here?” he asked, looking around the room.

  The Secretary of Defence was the first to respond. “Mr President, we need to offer aid to the Canadians. And then we need to contact Major Hunt and find out what the Alliance has to say about this incident.” George Garnier paused for a moment and looked around the room. “I think it is clear to say that our forces are utterly incapable of dealing with the threat that the Coalition presents, and we need to ask for access to Alliance technology if we are to defend ourselves against future attacks.”

  The Secretary of State quickly chimed in. “You know they’re not going to give us access to their weapons at this stage. So there is no point in asking. What we need to demand is a more robust force to be allocated to the defence of our planet.”

  Nick Beaudrot, the Chief of Staff, shook his head gently, then weighed into the conversation. “Mr President,” he looked at both of the secretaries of state and defence, “We have been drawn into a conflict that is being played at a level beyond us. We have also been given a clear and concise list of five objectives that we must achieve to get membership into the Alliance, and until we meet those, I doubt very much that they’ll give us access to any more information or technology than they already have.” Nick looked at the president. “Sir, we are at their mercy, and we must keep that in mind if we are to survive another Coalition attack.”

  The President nodded before looking to his National Security Advisor, “Get Major Hunt on the phone at once. We need an open channel to the Alliance representatives.”

  Looking back to the rest of the table, the President caught the glance of John Riley, the head administrator of NASA, who had conveniently been in Washington for a conference. “What do you make of all this, John?”

  “Nick is right, Sir. We’re now passengers on a roller-coaster ride. My suggestion would be to use this incident to show the United Nations, and the world how important full membership in the Alliance is, and how we need to start implementing measures to tackle the checklist we have been given as soon as possible.”

  Bednarik looked down at his lap and picked some lint off his trousers before tilting his head back and looked at the ceiling.

  “I can’t get a hold of Major Hunt.” Advised Zach North.

&
nbsp; “Try again.” The president looked down the table at the Secretary of State, “I need to talk to the Prime Minister.” Bednarik shifted his focus to the secretary of defence, “We need to contact the authorities in Washington State to start looking for any components of any drones that were destroyed and may have crashed on our side of the border, and ask the Canadians to do the same. We need to secure everything we can and turn it over to the Alliance as a sign of good faith.” Charles sat back in his chair. “And get me information on what’s happened in Vancouver as fast as possible. It’s ground zero for this war so far, and we need to show our support for the Canadian people, and we need to show our support for the Alliance at a time like this.”

  The President pushed himself back from the table and stood up, and buttoned his suit jacket, before leaning forward and resting his knuckles on the table. “I need three teams to start working. First on aid to Vancouver. The second on a draft letter to the Alliance stating our concern on the security position, and asking how they intend to improve it, and the third group needs to write a letter to the United Nations in order to open talks on how we can start addressing these five concerns that have been put forth by the Alliance in order for us to obtain membership. If our survival in this conflict lies with aligning ourselves with the Alliance, that is fine by me, but I want us to be able to defend ourselves as best as possible, and that means getting access to every piece of technology that the Alliance has to offer, and if we need to take draconian steps to ensure we meet the requirements that have been set forth by the Alliance, then that is also fine by me.

  28

  The base commander knew something was amiss after not having heard from his raiding party in several hours. More important than losing the ships that he had committed to the task, he now knew that there was something about this world that the Alliance deemed of worth, and therefore it must hold some value to the Coalition.