The General's War

by Michael Poeltl

  In an instant, the remaining G-class is swallowed up by the road, accompanied by a ground shaking explosion. The soldiers scramble for cover and Fran watches with trepidation as their Lifi weapons scan the area, lighting up every crevice and crack in the buildings which surround them. Her heart falls. Soldiers fall. Something above is firing down on them. The soldier whose point of view she’s been borrowing lands on his back, a speckling of blood blurring the body cam’s view. Next, she watches as one of her own fighter craft buzzes over the decimated platoon. She quickly changes her POV to the fighter. As the history comes up on the wall she reads that this fighter was responsible for multiple kills against her forces. A turncoat.

  “Son of a -” she waves away the holo along with the real-time images from the fighter. Without noticing, she takes a hard sip of the wine straight from the bottle. “Lifi is useless against my own people,” she mutters under her breathe. “How did that fool of a man manage to play my own people against me?!” Referring to the chancellor.

  Her earth holo reannimates above her desk and several updated red zones pepper the globe. A new sinking feeling drops itself in her stomach. The holo is programmed to alert Fran when certain pre-determined milestones are reached, and this milestone just revealed a troubling statistic. Twenty million Host have joined the rebel cause, critically out numbering her military capabilities. The pro-military ads which have been running for the past few days have produced little enrolment and less then one-hundred-thousand new recruits. G-class AI Host factories have been consistently bombed since some of her military personnel have defected, and she is running out of locations that can produce more than one-hundred a day.

  She apprehensively lands a finger on a random, hovering red dot, over one of the Middle-East Country States. A camera in one of the city’s squares captures a line of Hosts of every class, none of which have bothered to alter their appearances she notes, marching through the wide streets, a light sand storm descending on them. Though the image is troubling in itself, what’s more so is that each Host is outfitted with a rifle; one registered to military personnel. She calls up the city facts and finds an Arms warehouse in the region. She’s just handing the rebels the means to fight, she thinks.

  Explosions burst within the swirling sand. She expands the globe and presses on one of her advancing soldiers, defending against this threat of hundreds of Hosts. The bodycam offers an excellent point of view. The group is four platoons strong with a dozen G-class and their drones. Light erupts from the platoon, laying down a blast of the Lifi now that the Hosts may be disoriented with the explosions and the sand storm. Like the body cam, the soldiers will have the proper filters in their helmets to see through the thickening sand. Hosts drop and stop and begin to wander from their original path. One line at a time. As they fall, or are left confused, the line behind them fire their weapons into her platoons. She switches her view to that of one of the drones overhead. It releases a volley of small missiles into the sand fracturing the chasis’ of several Hosts. The G-class then move to the front of the line and unload their ammunition. Host crowns, and limbs fly from their chasis’. This is a win, she surmises, as the Host lines break up and then fall to the relentless hail of ammunition. This is a win, but the sheer numbers of newly enlightened Hosts are staggering, Fran admits to herself.

  Another red dot which interests her resides in her own Country State and city. She zooms in and presses on a platoon not thirty blocks from her secret position. Here she finds Chimera and Host working alongside the United Earth Guerrillas. Major Jackson had mentioned that those who have defected from her military body now referred to themselves as Guerrillas. The three groups seemed to work in tandem, she notices. The Guerrillas flanking her platoon, while the Chimera take the high ground – some seemingly floating in midair, others on rooftops – and Hosts charging down the middle.

  It seems an effective strategy, but her trained soldiers, along with the G-class cut into the Hosts and flanking Guerrillas as air support rushes in against the Chimera firing down on the platoon. First City is a priority for Fran in maintaining the peace. She has no intention of allowing it to be overrun by rebels. Few towers have been toppled and the loss of civilian life has been kept to a minimum within the Captial. If the major’s plan to take out the three destroyers in orbit does not pan out, she imagines First City will fall quickly to their lances.

  ______________________________________________________________________

  “We’re in firing range of earth defences, Captain,” Ursula alerts Chopra.

  “Initiate the programs,” he orders. “We’ll run them back to back until the Defsats are wiped out. Captains,” he turns back to the monitor where captain’s Mann and Juravinski have issued the order as well. “We’ve taken it upon ourselves, under the authority of the true Chancellor, to free United Earth of the fear General August has plagued it with. Will you permit this coup to steal away the lives and priviledges of our families? You will not. You have proven consistent with your character and courage, you have chosen the path of freedom from repression; the freedom to choose, everything we enjoyed before General August decided otherwise. So, we shall reluctantly, but without hesitation make our way into battle with the hopes of those oppressed people, Hosts, and Chimera upon our shoulders; who are counting on us to end this period of tyranny and hate. The eyes of the world are on you.”

  “Captain,” Both men respond in unison, leaving their monitors and communications open as their ships begin playing out the tactical programs.

  Chancellor Bellows is visibly moved by Chopra’s speech and rises from his chair, walking toward the blue sphere now taking up fifty percent of the command decks windows.

  “Well said, Captain,” he tells Chopra, eyes fixed on the tiny lights now hurtling toward them. “Those are energy weapons coming at us?”

  “Yes,” Ursula answers.

  “They will have lost much of their power at maximum distance,” Chopra explains. “They will not scratch our hull. However,” The ship’s drives spin up and the destroyers now plunge toward the oncoming threat. The sudden G-forces of the push forward has each of them fighting to stay upright until the ship settles into its assault speed. The sounds of soft metalic thumps against the hull make their way into the bridge. Without the interior finishes and insullation, there is no sound-proofing beyond the thickness of the ship’s skin, and so each hit by the Defsat’s sounds like they’re caught in a hail storm.

  The guns come to life on the ships after another five minutes of travel when the distance between the Defsats and the destroyers will ensure the destruction of the satellites. Mann and Juravinski’s ships begin circling Chopra’s vertically, drawing in the Defsats, culling their numbers.

  Once the satellites realize their mistake, they alter their plan and the destroyers follow.

  “Our programs are matching theirs,” Mann announces, confidently.

  “Yes,” Chopra agrees. “But for how long?”

  The satellites form a wall next, between the destroyers and earth, stretching for kilometres. They fire their energy weapons; staggering between thirty or forty at a time.

  “The Defsats are toggling their fire,” Juravinski announces. “They won’t let up if they’re allowed to recharge like this.”

  “He’s right, Jim,” Mann says. “We’re caught in a relentless volley of lance fire.”

  “The ships can manage the lancing,” Chopra explains. “Continue offensive manouvers.”

  The destroyers stand up to the punishment and fire back, picking off two or three at a time. The assault is going well, Chopra thinks, and then watches as dozens of missiles break through the wall of Defsats. When he realizes where they’ve come from, he knows the payload they carry.

  “Captain,” Ursula looks up from her console, brows pushing together. “Those are -”

  “Fire at those missiles!” he shouts into his com. “They’re showing nuclear signatures!”

  All three ships target the nuclear mis
siles only a hundred kilometres off now. Each ship also deploys flares should any of the nukes escape their lances. Meanwhile the Defsats maintain their wall and concentrate their combined firepower on Juravinski’s goliath.

  “Juravinski,” Chopra calls out. “You’re taking considerable damage on your starboard -” but before he can finish his sentence a hole opens up in the goliath and Chopra watches helplessly as AI Hosts, and anything else not bolted down, fly from her mid-section.

  “We’re sealing off floors seven and eight,’ Juravinski replies, yelling over the audible alarm sounding on his bridge, accompanied by a series of red, flashing lights. The satellites continue their assault on the goliath, moving along the horizontal plane of its starboard.

  “Have we taken out the nukes?” He asks Ursual.

  “We have, I’m retargeting to the Defsats manually,” she replies. “Wait,” a pause. “More missiles incoming!”

  “Focus on the nukes,” Chopra says. “Jusrvinski, can you retreat?”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Captain,” he retorts.

  “Get your ship out of range of those Defsats, Captain,” Chopra orders. “Another few minutes of this and you’ll be -”

  “Jim, I’m fodder,” he says. “I’m drawing all the fire. You both still have a chance to finish the job. We’re targeting the nukes. Another volley of twenty-four.”

  “Damn it,” Chopra rounds Ursula’s console and watches over her shoulder as the targets approach. “I am really not interested in losing Captain Juravinski,” he tells her.

  “Sir, we can redirect our fire at the Defsats, but I fear with so many we just won’t make much of a difference. Our firepower is better focused on the missiles.”

  “Very well,” he assents, “Continue bringing down the nukes, but I’m putting us between the goliath and the Defsats.” As he moves to sit in the commander’s chair to manually pilot the destroyer and shield his friend’s ship, captain Mann beats him to it.

  “I’ve got this, Jim,” Mann tells them. “Juravinski, why is it always me saving your ass!”

  Mann’s destroyer breaks formation and chages toward Juravinski’s wounded goliath. Shrapnel and AI Hosts thrown out from the earlier explosion bounce harmlessly against Mann’s hull as his ship now takes the brunt of the Defsat’s lance fire.

  “You heard Jim,” Juravinski replies. “It was his turn!” They laugh and the final missile is detonated eighty kilometres from the ships. Like the others it offers a jolt, but because of Mann’s proximity to the goliath, the blast sends Mann’s destroyer into the other ship, slamming the destroyer’s main thrusters into Juravinski’s shuttle bay, collapsing another three levels. Mann’s ship is well positioned to take the full lance fire now, but in doing so loses his port guns. Chopra opens fire on the Defsats and is again alerted that more nuclear missiles are five-hundred kilometres out.

  “The Defsats have been blocking our ability to pick up the missiles until they’re through the wall,” Ursula states. “Why didn’t anyone on the ground see this coming and warn us?”

  “The general still manages to surprise us,” Chopra offers. “Take down those missiles, Lieutenant!” He turns to the monitor. “Captain Mann, can your ship maneuver?”

  “We’re firing our starboard thrusters to wheel around,” he says, holding his side where he’d slammed into his console on impact. “We can help.”

  “Juravinski,” Chopra asks. “Can you move?”

  “Yes, but I’m not abandoning this fight,” he explains. “Each breech has been contained. We will continue to draw fire. One ship needs to survive this.”

  “He’s right, Jim,” Mann adds. “And right now, that ship is yours.”

  “Captain, three nukes left,” Ursula interupts. “seventy klicks out.”

  “Mann, can you take them?” Chopra asks.

  “We’ve got them,” he assures the group but then the front of his destroyer is lit up in a spectacular display of light accompanied by a bone rattling tremor felt by all three ships. Mann orders his compliment of Host mechs to extinguish a fire which has flared up in his weapon generator - his forward lance now blown off. “Damn it, we’ve just lost our main canon!”

  “Lieutenant,” Chopra says in a desperate tone. “Those missiles are heading straight for us.”

  “I’m targeting,” she tells him and takes two out. The jolts are substantial as the ship vibrates from the detonations. “We need to move,” she says as the final missile avoids her fire.

  Chopra sits in the commander’s chair and swipes the screen to call up the controls. His fingers dance on the screens surface and the destroyer begins to sway to the port side, but too slowly. The missile is just twenty kilometres out and Lieutenant Drake cannot target it effectively. Their flares are also depleted.

  The chancellor stands from an obeservation chair on the bridge and walks to the windows where the missile is now visible. “My God,” he says, his view suddenly blocked by the goliath as it passes infront of him, some ten kilometres out.

  “Juravinski,” Chopra cries. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

  “All that I can do,” he explains, and is met with a terrible explosion which tears his ship to pieces, lighting up the bridges of both destroyers. The jolt is considerably more violent than the others had been, and the chancellor crumbles to the floor.

  “Put everything we’ve got into those Defsats,” Chopra orders both Ursula and Captain Mann. With just one-hundred-and-six Defsats left, Chopra gives the order to have his AI Hosts divert power from all thrusters; routing any additional power to the weapons generators. Every canon on his destroyer blast streams of lance fire lasting well past their three-second life span. Each burst finding multiple Defsats and cutting them in half. This incredible release of energy has the weapon rooms screaming alerts that another volley could cause a meltdown of the generator cores. Thankfully, another barrage would not be necessary, and though Captain Mann’s destroyer has taken further punishment protecting Chopra’s ship from the majority of Defsat fire, when the satellites are all incapacitated or destroyed, Chopra’s destoryer comes out virtually unscathed.

  “UE Space Station,” Chopra hails the lone station orbiting earth. “You have ten minutes to abandon your posts. After that you will be fired upon.” His voice is weathered. Regardless, this fight was far from over, and he would not allow the stress of the moment to interfer with the remainder of this war.

  Moments later the Space Station jettisons a shuttle headed for earth and he gives the command to Ursula to fire on the station, crippling its ability to autonomously receive and rebuild the defence satellites.

  “Radiation is through the roof, Captain,” Ursula informs them. “We need to put some distance between us and the goliath.”

  “Do it,” he tells her, walking over to the chancellor. “You heard the Lieutenant, Captian Mann, use what thrusters you have, and let’s put in at a two-hundred klick orbit of earth.” He offers a hand to Raymond and he takes it.

  “Thank you,” Raymond says, pulling himself up on the powerful captain’s arm.

  “Don’t thank me,” he replies. “Juravinski and his crew just saved us all.”

  _____________________________________________________________________

  Commander Darla and team rejoice over the victory they’ve watched via the destroyer’s cams and open com. The loss of the goliath along with Captain Juravinski and crew is disheartening, but to have taken the day is a win for them all.

  _____________________________________________________________________

  Tobias and the Chimera celebrate in the great room of their corvette. Tobias has even allowed Wilkes to join them, with his hands bound to his seat.

  “More chips?” He asks the prisoner.

  “Please,” Wilkes replies and Tobias shovels a handful into the mans open mouth.

  “A great victory,” he stands and walks the room. “Impressive tactics from both sides. I thought they’d just cherry-pick their way through the Defsat
s, but instead the general had a real fight in mind.”

  “They will be demoralized by the defeat,” Forge suggests. “I wish we could be there to land on First City and take the UE tower.”

  “And why would you wish that, Forge,” Tobias asks him, curious for his answer and suspicious of his intentions.

  “I want to share in the coming victory over the repressive military regime, Tobias,” he states. “I have no use for their tower, it is only a thing, a metaphor.”

  “A metaphor, in what sense?”