Invasion: Journal Three (Shockwave Book 3)

by Hammer Trollkin

  “Then they fly off to hunt another host, though NOT a thrall for the next phase. When the mature Gall find another victim, they attack to gain access to their victim’s central nervous system, controlling their victim with a complex weave of tendrils. The host, evidently, retains a certain level of consciousness.

  Para shuddered. “Just like in the vids. Maybe a human race-memory from the distant past?”

  I couldn’t contain myself. “It’s all so... wrong. I can’t imagine the torment.”

  Fierce had more. “It gets worse. Something seems to have changed with the Gall on Crimson. Here, the hosts had no natural resistance to the Gall, but they also had a much different biology than what the Gall encountered on their world of origin. The Gall were already sentient, having intellect suited to their form and needs. Yet, on Crimson, they seem to have blended more with the inhabitants. They have not merely dominated their hosts; they have learned from them. The changes to the Gall while on Crimson has made them even more dangerous.”

  Tee nodded. “Dangerous, and then some. They’re now operating advanced equipment. I’m sure that wasn’t in their tool bag before coming here.”

  I’m the naturally curious sort. “How did the Gall get to Crimson?”

  Fierce was ready. “It was during the initial push by Crimson to visit the stars, about the time they colonized Turkskee. An explorer found an ancient parchment. I’m not sure about the parchment part exactly.

  “Let’s say, through some form of communication, he learned of a forbidden fruit that would make one wise, filling them with knowledge. He followed the clues, ignored the many warnings, and finally found the Gall. The explorer must have been infested while exploring the Gall homeworld. He brought back a load of Gall pods, stuffed with larvae.”

  Para looked at Viz. “That there was a message to lure an explorer suggests intent by the Gall to spread out from their homeworld.”

  Fierce nodded. “I haven’t read all the background. It is clear, the initial infestation on Crimson developed quickly. The Gall-infested explorer probably helped with that. But the infestation couldn’t follow the normal biological process without mature Gall breeders to attack and spread the seed. Think of the difficulties the larvae must have faced, with a key step missing in their reproductive cycle, and the unfamiliar anatomy of the people of Crimson.

  “People resisted Gall control, while struggling to understand what was happening to them. It was obviously not a normal illness. The leading hypothesis, in the early days of the infestation, suggested an alien invasion using mind control. That moved the authorities to lock Crimson down under martial law, and impose restrictive communication directives that Steve speaks of as the Terrible Silence.

  “The peaceful world of Crimson fell away under the influence of the Gall and the harsh measures of societal control. Some managed, for the most part, to control their actions. It seems an important personage, haven’t found his name yet, helped during the crisis. I think he developed a cure of some sort.

  “Others grew more selfish under the control of the Gall. The record mentions increasing levels of jealousy, envy, and greed. Most of the population became heartless, ruthless, cruel.”

  I couldn’t help but notice. “Some of that certainly sounds familiar.”

  Evidently Roll was back and wanted to keep the momentum going. “Fast forward, Fierce, what about the Empire invasion?”

  “As Crimson slid into chaos, the invasion forces of Cygnus Prime attacked. Era vids show actual Primer soldiers involved. In those early days of expansion, they handled planetary assaults rather than using their bug vassals. Okay, that’s all conjecture. The Primers left in a hurry when they better understood the Gall situation. They then quarantined the planet.”

  I was about to ask a question when my comms shrieked with another round of interference, rendering the incoming message unintelligible. That seemed odd, since we were so far from the enemy positions. My eyes were pulled to the skies as a saucer streaked past, directing my attention to several large dropships descending near our position. Those would be filled with troops. The ships should have registered on our Logan sensor, inviting a Manly missile response. My thoughts were interrupted by a commotion to the right, along with calls for a medic.

  Two guys tackled Sergeant Wilkins, who had come running out of some bushes with ill intent, in the form of a Longarm aimed at Roll. Wilkins kicked free, rolled to the side, and fired his mini-20. Roll went down hard. Roll! Wilkins evaded his pursuers, seeming to move faster than a normal human, raising the mini to fire again. A loud blast pulled my attention to the left. Tee had squeezed off a round from his .50 cal., killing Wilkins instantly. An eerie wail seemed to come from the corpse, followed by a rustle of his field jacket, and a tearing sound.

  The Gall leaped into the air; the screeching silenced by several mini-20s.

  It must have infested Wilkins, probably during the firefight near the portal gate. That explained how the Gall knew of our new position. They seem to be able to access the knowledge and thoughts of their host, and they must have a way to send messages. Maybe. This entire operation was unwinding fast to the downside.

  Our comms were still messy, but had some success auto-modulating around the interference, allowing short range transmission. The guys downslope called to warn of Gall troop movement heading our way, prompting Tee to order a tactical retreat to higher ground on the far side of a wooded area. A floater drone had imaged a ledge on a rocky point, and just above it, what was hopefully a vacant cave.

  A medic was working frantically on Roll. He was alive! Tee must have asked the medic if Roll could be moved. He handed his .50 to Danielson and gently lifted Roll as though he weighed next to nothing. With his enhanced strength and stamina, Roll wasn’t much of a burden. Still, his nanite factories would work a double shift hauling Roll up the steep hill. Only Para has more raw strength, which left her hauling the heavy munitions cart as we moved out in our coordinated retreat. Wilkins had fried the cart’s motor in one of his many acts of sabotage.

  As we trudged upslope, a blinding flash to my left started the brush on fire. The Gall were narrowing the distance. At least they didn’t seem to have air-to-ground capability. Their saucers seemed to be surveillance craft only. The song of the SAWs, that sad sound of death, interrupted my short reverie. A sad song, or not, I found myself hoping the tune could carry us to the relative safety of the ledge.

  Our path took us into a wooded area, and a mood-bright with the prospects of better cover. It was short lived, ended by the scream of someone over to my left. One. Two. Three explosions rocked the trees, sending dirt and grime to cover me. One of the troop landers must have peeled off, landing to our left, and dispatching troops to intercept. Another scream from one of our guys. Smoldering fires burned all around us, a rising breeze threatening to turn the place into an inferno.

  And there we were, flanked by the enemy, forced to dig in, unable to move. A stream of floater images from one of our few remaining surveillance drones finally showed us the disposition of the enemy attacking our left flank. A troop transport had tried to land on the steep slope, ending up a mangled mess. Our limited imaging showed enough troops had limped out to occupy several strong positions, including one that would cover the expanse between the woods and the ledge we had hoped to dominate.

  The main force would soon come calling at our back door, a visit which would clearly end in our demise. Or worse. One of the explosions rocking the woods knocked me to the ground, and I was done with it. Time to be bold. I could barely see Fierce, in front of me and a little to the left. He would have what I needed for my little plan, as confirmed by his agreement to go-for-it in 30 seconds. A quick call to Tee over the comms and we were ready to move.

  I belly crawled to Fierce. He had wormed his way over to Roddy to gather one more surprise package and was back to his position by the time I arrived. We were already near the forward position of our diminishing force in the woods. Streaks of energy continued to pin o
ur guys down, but I held off on a cloak to avoid friendly fire. It wasn’t long before we moved out of harm’s way and sprinted out of the woods under cloak toward the Gall positions. The enemy had clumped in three separate groups, behind rocky outcroppings.

  We hurried upslope to the enemy position nearest the cave. They were withholding fire, with our guys unable to even see them from the woods. Fierce and I moved in behind them to drop off our first package, covering it with a light dusting of dirt. I checked my timer. We would have to wait ten more seconds. Right on time, Tee called our troops to cease fire. We ran full-out downslope, still behind enemy lines, to the next position, delivering our second surprise.

  It was going like clockwork. We placed package three without incident and started back toward the woods careful to choose a course safe from enemy fire. But one of us must have kicked the wrong rock, triggering a small landslide.

  The nearest Gall position reacted quickly, turning and firing, a good incentive to hurry our pace. We were still cloaked, so they were shooting blindly. But it was no good, with more and more rocks tumbling, broadcasting our cloaked position. I could see it in his eye. Fierce was about to break cloak and give me a chance to get away.

  I grabbed Fierce by his collar. “That’s not going to happen, buster.”

  He did some ridiculous duck and twist, breaking my handhold, and nearly breaking my wrist. Then he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, and jumped. Despite the unseemly predicament, I had the clarity of thought to reach back for his left ear, the lobe just hanging there and begging for a yank. That well-deserved reprimand was only forestalled by our crash and spill when we reached the bottom of our slide.

  But Fierce wasn’t done as he called out over the comms. “Tee! Detonate!”

  The charges exploded with a satisfying clap of thunder. We had hit the flat area that ended our ride with enough force to send me head-over-heels and onto my face. I laid there for a moment with eyes closed, relishing the short break, unable to erase an image of our three surprise packages and their raised green lettering: This End Toward Enemy. My head decided it hurt enough to refocus my attention on a nagging thought: Bad Timing For Concussion.

  That got me up and moving just in time to see a squad of Gall pointing at us in our very precarious position. We were sitting ducks, the gawking Gall serving as proof my cloak had collapsed during the fall. Neither of us had brought a gun, needing to carry the heavy ordnance and all. Yeah, the long day was catching up to us.

  The enemy squad was in no hurry, taking careful aim with their laser rifles, only to collapse in that odd red mist so characteristic of a SAW railgun. We ran back to the woods. They had dealt with any stray soldiers from the flanking Gall positions by the time we rejoined our people, and we moved off in haste for our rendezvous with the cave. An occasional explosion to our rear, set off by some poor Gall tripping a wire, let us know the enemy was still moving on us. Although their pursuit had slowed, it brought only a fleeting satisfaction. Our situation was still dreadful.

  As we cleared the wood, I saw the cave opening and found myself unable to quash a feeling that Gall would soon pour out to greet us. My overfocus resulted in a slip and fall, exhausted as I was from lugging extra gear up the hill. The whoosh of a Manly prompted me to roll over for a look. My Integrated Visual Augmentation System glazed over to protect me from the blinding flash as the small nuke took out a Gall troop transport. Another whoosh. Another. So bright. So much death. But not enough death to improve our situation. A dark depression tugged at me.

  Para hauled me to my feet. Manly shells are relatively clean, but three bursts just overhead suggested the cave as a more suitable, less radioactive location for a rest. Someone, it was the guy on the Manly, had shouted something. Out! No more shells. I glanced up to see 5 more transports coming in fast. These Gall guys were sparing no expense.

  Para sought to cheer me up, smiling, with an upbeat lilt to her voice. “Good thing the transports aren’t set up for landing on such a steep slope.”

  Awe-stounding. Good thing the Gall would have to break a sweat before they blew us to bits. We were just approaching the ledge with the cave when the first Gall cleared the woods, taking potshots. Both SAWs opened up to mow them down. More shouts. Out! Out! That brought a grim thought which seemed practical in the setting. We’ve used caves for burial since ancient times.

  I tend to have those slightly morbid thoughts when the odds are lousy, just before a round of faith breaks through. We had no functional port-techs; no heavy guns or ordnance. I blanched at the thought of becoming a thrall nest for the next thousand years or so. The subject became an object of prayer as we moved into the empty cave to prepare for the inevitable Gall attack.

  I settled in, prayer time over for the moment, as I steeled myself to the notion of one shot, one Gall. They were getting close, setting up to overrun our position, rather than ending us quickly with big guns or laser cannon. It suggested their commanders desired hosts. Our species held the prospect of unique knowledge, and capabilities. But we were going to give them the fight of their lives.

  ***

  THE KRILL

  A peace settled over me as I gave myself over to the care of my maker and watched for the first signs of the Gall attack.

  Steve broke my concentration, running up all a chatter, then wisely thought better of it, and dropped low, crawling the last few feet. “Viz! They’re here! Here in this cave. You’ve got to come and meet them.”

  That provoked an adrenaline burst. “Gall? They’re here?”

  But why would I want to meet them? Must be a translator slip. Or, all the stress of seeing his world of origin in shambles drove him over the edge.

  Steve shook his head, his whole body. “No. There are no Gall here.”

  This wasn’t a time for joking around. “Did you bump your head, Steve? Grab a blaster, then repeat after me, one shot, one Gall.”

  But he was insistent, tugging at my sleeve.

  The tugging provoked a very stern point of my finger. “Settle down, mister, or I’m going to clobber you.”

  He just kept tugging. “Please Viz. The Krill. They’re here. Remember I said, someday we would run with the Krill? Well, the expression isn’t meant to be taken literally. But...”

  A deepening concern for Steve’s sanity joined my annoyance. “Isn’t that your nickname for the horsey-things on Tursksee? Steve, I haven’t seen a single horsey since we’ve been here. Besides, they wouldn’t be wandering around in a cave. Now quiet down, you’re giving my position away to the Gall.”

  Steve sounded dejected yet serious. “Not horseys, Viz. The honest to goodness Krill. They live here, on Crimson, and have always lived here on Crimson, not Turkskee. The Krill are here and want to help us.”

  It occurred to me I should show Steve more kindness, knowing this whole Crimson and Gall nightmare must be hitting him hard, so I glanced over at Para. “Hold my spot, Sis. I guess we’re going to get saved by the Krill. I’ll check it out and be right back.”

  Para nodded, then had a second thought, scrutinizing Steve while fiddling with her IVAS. “Hold on a sec. No, it’s okay. You can see them in infrared. The Gall, I mean, after they attach. Steve’s clean. Tee has already checked everyone. But I wanted to double-check, just in case one slipped in.”

  I moved further into the cavern with Steve. And, who’d have thought?

  They were about two feet tall. The Krill. There were ten of them. The first impression was of tiny nervous elves. They were slim with tall pointed ears, large eyes, and a bushy head of hair. Their voices were high-pitched, and strong, as they chittered away in rapid sentences. Krill have hands and feet that are disproportionately large, yet they appear graceful in their movement. And they moved around, a lot, as though filled with too much energy to hold still. Or, maybe they were excited to see us. I’ll try to find out more about them and leave a timeline drop.

  + BEGIN TIMELINE DROP.

  Most information related to the Krill on Crimso
n is now classified. Turkskee legend tells of a second race of sentient beings on Crimson, other than the ancestors of the colonists. The Krill were known to live underground, moving freely throughout an extensive system of tunnels and caverns. Before the coming of the Gall, large numbers of Krill would appear on the surface of Crimson in a 40-year (Earth years) cycle. Their appearance always brought accusations of pranking and general mischief as they dashed through the streets on their strange errands.

  Crimson authorities left the Krill to their activities, since they caused no widespread destruction, and they didn’t harm anyone. There was also an ancient and widely held superstition. Harming a Krill brought very bad luck. Besides, many people spoke of their charitable deeds. Krill curiosity would explain the accusations of trickery and mischief leveled at the diminutive beings. To run-with-the-Krill became a term of affection between people who enjoyed a life filled with fun and excitement.

  END TIMELINE DROP. +

  One of the Krill came forward to speak with us. I couldn’t tell if the little guy was male or female. The translator categorized the language as a dialect similar to the primary language of Turkskee, a primary ancient Crimson tongue. I scrolled my IVAS, looking for additional information, but they didn’t want to synch with the translator. Sometimes Ivees need a good smack. Works every time. For my trouble I received a notation stating, the speaker is not using his primary language. A good return for my effort, I suppose. Male Krill, who wasn’t speaking the Krill language.

  The gist of the diminutive being’s message was simple, we’re running out of time and should follow them into their tunnel system. They wanted to help us. A massive explosion just outside the cave entrance, followed by hot, bright flashes of energy, emphasized the point.