Invasion: Journal Three (Shockwave Book 3)

by Hammer Trollkin

  I thought it was clear that Shockwave would move in with Action Pack to tunnel under the shielding, nuke the array, and handle any action that might come from what was left of the facility.

  I had just finished rummaging through my pack and pulled out my rad-suit when Bran piped up. “Viz, for this one, Shockwave should stand down. With our exoskeleton rig you guys can’t keep up, probably not even Para. Just cover out backsides, okay? Y’all are Spacors, so I know you can shoot.”

  Maybe I like being tip-of-the-spear. “It’s not a race. We can just port in.”

  Brad shook his head. “The port signal will attract attention.”

  So what? “Oh, and four nukes going off, that won’t tip them off?”

  Brad shook his head again, in the most frustrating manner. “Port signals will give away our position, our exact position.”

  Ughhh. I didn’t like it but maybe he was right. “Ummm. Maybe. Okay, we have your six and can be there in half-a-sec.”

  Bran just nodded and called for a final check. “Tactical, how does it look down there? How about the wind, for rad count? Copy that. Positions optimal for friendlies. Ten minutes without protection. Jim, you’re on point. Spacors, move out.”

  I’m really getting to like this guy. Maybe too much. It’s like my brain is full of dust. Hey! Wait up. Port signals are blocked within my cloaking field. Even in your turtle suit, Para can out-dig you. Maybe we should just pop in and surprise them. All of those thoughts came too late.

  And just like that, we were in countdown mode 3, 2, 1... a nuke for every tower. And Bran’s Spacors were already digging. Then I noticed a greenish haze appear throughout the valley, all around the area, prompting me to rub my eyes to see if it was me. Ughhh. Forgot about the stupid DARPA lenses.

  The comms were fuzzy again as I called out a warning. But I could hear their screams. And they were gone. Whatever kind of gas it was, it... it killed them all, and erased them. The only things left were the exo-rigs.

  We would be next. “GG, Dirty Feet, to your porters, back to the governor, move out, NOW!”

  Roll had thrown up a couple of floaters before he ported. One of them was far enough out to escape the destruction surrounding the array. It was as through a giant torch had burned the trees, shrubs, grass, for miles around. But the power array and facility were fine, throwing out energy like nothing had happened. You’re one-of-a-kind, Bran. I won’t easily forget you, you and your platoon of mayhem.

  The Primer governor was still asleep when we ported in. When Jackson heard what happened, he was downcast with a twist of survivor’s guilt for good measure. He had been embedded with Bran and the guys for a while, but he wasn’t really their kind of soldier. Yeah. A soldier, but a different kind.

  I had plenty of survivors guilt myself. It almost seems like, after all these years of surviving, it would get easier. Not so much. At best, a quicker recovery. Maybe. Yet, here we are, still alive. Another of those strange happenstances, right, Rock? We’ll need to move again soon; been here way too long already. Jackson started to put his turtle suit on, but then had second thoughts and dropped it. He wouldn’t need that any more.

  ***

  + BEGIN TIMELINE DROP.

  Despite the desperate situation posed to our troops on Cygnus Prime, Emergency Action Dodge greatly damaged the enemy’s pride as well as their infrastructure. Source of data:

  1) Partially intact data recordings from a Primer military suppression bot discovered using high energy HORER scanning system, Cygnus Prime southern hemisphere.

  2) Pid drive of tech-master, Sergeant Haggerty, discovered in the vicinity.

  On the extreme southern side of the planet, Lieutenant Malvern smiled at his soaking wet platoon, which had just crossed a swamp that was deceptively deeper than it had looked. They had come out of the jungle canopy and needed to find a hiding spot until the call-up for evacuation. It would come. He hoped it would be soon. They were out of heavy munitions after a day of destruction, including a desalination plant, a pharmaceutical lab, and the tether for a skyplatform. The SID had done their homework in developing infrastructure targets.

  Malvern pulled up the list of safe spots that were still showing as open, never used. This one would do, a cavern of a size suitable for his platoon. He signaled his port-tech and pushed the location coordinates to his pid. Someone was finding enough juice to push out through the jamming to update the hideout lists, and provide an occasional League broadcast.

  The platoon untangled into a Primer ambush, the first shot killing the port-tech instantly. Maybe it was their port signal tracking that helped the enemy spot a port-tech despite no obvious markings. So much for updated safe spots. No port-tech, nowhere to run. Enemy behind good cover, with no cover available to us. It’s odd how much information can run through the human mind in the time it takes to open a mouth to shout.

  Malvern screamed, “Suppression fire! We have no cover. Take that position. Move! Move!”

  Even before the command, the well-trained Grounders had opened up with Longarm blasters. Several tubes joined in, spitting plasma. The platoon advanced behind withering suppression fire. For their part, the Prime Elite Guard had never encountered such a ferocious enemy. Most had never fired a weapon outside of basic training.

  Two were killed in the opening volley. The rest were forced to keep their heads down as the human troops marched toward them, without showing any signs of fear. Finally, one of the Primers thought to activate the shielding, though they all still flinched at the energetic display.

  The Elite Guard commander decided it would be best to send out the suppression-bot. It rose, moving slowly through an opening in the rock wall, through the shielding. An assortment of munitions tore at the bot, with no apparent effect.

  The platoon had already experienced one of these monstrosities. They concentrated their fire, aiming at the thing’s frontal base.

  Haggerty was the tech genius of the platoon, and was sitting back in a dark corner trying to pry open a Manly shell. Success. He then tore out the safety modules without compromising the rest. With that, the shell would cook-off when it got hot enough. True, the platoon would all be KIA by then, and no one would ever know what happened. So be it. Haggerty noticed air current coming from a small crack near the cavern floor. He shrugged and thought, why not? He left his pid on record and dropped it into the crack.

  The suppression-bot finally deemed it was far enough away from its masters and sent incredible waves of energy toward the platoon. The Prime Elite Guard commander smiled at this great triumph over the enemy. He and his troops would bask in the glory of this decisive victory against these Earth devils. There would be many toasts made in their honor. The ladies would hang on every word, at the telling of the tale. His men puffed their chests at the grand words. Then the Manly shell cooked-off in a .15 kiloton explosion.

  END TIMELINE DROP. +

  ***

  BACK TO AHAAM

  The science team on Ahaam was at their wits-end. Despite using the best interface technology available, they were not able to communicate with the amazing ship. There were no controls, no data centers, nothing that would give them access to the inner workings. The central sphere obviously held the guts of the machine, but even high-power scanning equipment was unable to intrude on the hidden space. A top-of-the-line HORER ground penetration scanner was brought in; a last-ditch hope to examine the inner workings.

  As the HORER unleashed its energies to see past the veil, it was clear the ship did not like the intrusion, as every electronic component of the scanner fried in a searing pulse of counter-forces.

  Solcom was extremely interested in the technology surrounding the ship and made haste to relieve Undersecretary Colonel Trollkin of his current projects in order to send him back to Ahaam.

  General Whitehall delivered the news personally when Tee expressed his reluctance. “Sorry, Tee, the cabinet said to Ahaam with you.”

  Tee squinted a little at the phrase. “You know wha
t to Ahaam with you means on Cygnus Prime, right?”

  Whitehall almost chuckled. “I do. No doubt the directive, to Ahaam with Undersecretary Trollkin, is just how the translation to English came through. They’ve probably gotten over your little tirade over being pulled from active duty with Shockwave. Regardless, a working knowledge of the technology behind that ship is an imperative.”

  Tee usually knows when to give up. “Duly noted. I’ll pack right away. What’s the latest on Operation Viper?”

  Whitehall drew a deep breath. “Tee, I’m definitely stepping outside the chain of command with what I’m about to tell you...”

  That didn’t sound good. “The last I heard, Viper had crushed the space forces of Prime and was on final orbital approach.”

  General Whitehall was quick in his response. “Yes. Viper seems to have dominated the Cygnus Primer system, with the full ground operation only hours away. The trouble is here, in the Solar System. The Anatoid-Karrin have somehow opened a gate by Saturn. They’ve destroyed Titan Base. We have already recalled the battle groups Liberty and Justice. I’m afraid we’re going to need their firepower. And we may need that ship, from Ahaam.”

  A third invasion of Earth, with our forces spread out over 1,400 light years. The thought gave Tee a deep motivation to master the ship on Ahaam. He was packed and ported to Ahaam within the hour.

  As Tee strolled from the PLZ into the gloom and stench of Ahaam, he decided his humor should match the moment as he commented to his scientist escort, “Ahhh, the smell of Sulphur in the morning.”

  Doctor Singh agrees. “Yes. I find one does not ever quite get used to it.”

  In the brief stroll to the ship, Singh gave an update on the Ahaam projects. He started with the archeological expedition in the nearby ruins. That had progressed well, and bugs were now crawling all over the city, carefully exploring every nook and cranny. That was interesting, but what progress had been made with the ship? Singh seemed a bit downcast when he said, in a roundabout way, there had been no actual progress, unless one counted the amazing ability of the ship to fry every single electronic component within a very expensive HORER scanner.

  Tee smiled as they neared the ship, deciding to try very hard to don a positive attitude in the situation. With that in mind, he took a deep breath, and immediately broke out in a coughing fit. His bright mood was genuine when he once again saw the ship, prompting him to run ahead to gain access, and touch the sphere wall.

  The ship was expecting him. “Greetings, Tee. It’s good to see you again. Shallow breathing is advised apart from a rebreather. I see this form of communication is best for now. In order to make meaningful advancement in our partnership, with your permission, I will also institute a progressive synergistic association routine.”

  Progress is good. “Uhhh, I think that sounds good. Have you tried to make meaningful advancement with the science team that has been working with you?”

  The ship is honest. “No. I am assigned to you or a member of your team. It is your genetic markers that have navigated the checkpoints. From an optimization standpoint, either you or Fierce would be my preference. Thank you for coming.”

  Navigated the checkpoints sound like a test of some sort. “Of course. How shall we proceed?”

  The ship has a plan. “Let’s chat for a bit. Then, when it’s time, we’ll take her out for a spin.”

  On day two, after taking her out for a spin, Tee disembarked from the ship, and was walking back to the burgeoning town, his port-tech untangled in front of him. The news from Cygnus Prime almost made his knees buckle. The Viper Operation had been crushed. Operation Goodnight was in chaos, with no mechanized weapon systems. His team, struggling to survive against all odds, if there were even alive. Liz. Mia.

  Tee lifted his head and said, prayerfully, “Hang on girls, Grandad is coming to get you.”

  ***

  FIERCE ACTION

  Amy and I were out walking the defensive perimeter while the rest of the team packed up to move from our cave to fresh accommodations. I was looking in the right direction to spot them first, not that they were easy to miss. The two giants, the Dahnahaash, strolled leisurely toward our cave entrance, one of them with a pronounced limp. I would have to be sure the next satchel charge blasted a big enough hole to break its neck. But why was Amy still here? She should have ported to the team to give warning.

  I raised my hands in question and she shook her head back at me. “The Dahnahaash have enclosed the cave with a port dampening field. I can’t get in. And they probably can’t get out.”

  By the looks of things, the team is already aware of their predicament. We were wondering what we should do with the governor. Here come Fierce and Jackson with the Primer on a tether line. A trade, maybe?

  At the sight of the monsters, the governor dropped to his knees, despite the tether. “My lords, this filth has managed to capture me, a member of the Dahkoreen Council. They make an offering, my lords, their freedom in exchange for mine.”

  The Dahnahaash soldiers looked at each other, then burst out in roars of laughter. Trying to arrange an exchange wouldn’t be of much help if the monsters could care-a-less about the governor. Fierce was looking all around, trying to spot Amy and me, but we were cloaked by that time. That he had raised his hand high as he dropped a backpack face down didn’t go unnoticed, at least by me.

  Amy tugged at my sleeve, having noticed the pack as well. There would be a satchel charge inside, with the dial set to maximum. I nodded my head in agreement. We ported to the bag, which disappeared within my tight cloaking field. When Fierce saw the pack disappear, he slammed into Jackson, both of them landing behind an outcropping. Good job, Fierce! Amy ported us behind the Dahnahaash, I reached in to yank the charging cord, dropped the bag face down, and we skedaddled.

  The detonation was large, focused downward, tearing open a large hole. The concussive wave moved around the monsters with no effect, but threw the governor head-over-heals. Though the blast wave had done no harm to the giants, their footing was compromised, causing them both to fall backwards into the crater. Their howls of pain and anger hurt my ears despite the noise dampening system, as we grabbed Fierce and Jackson, then ported to the new hiding spot.

  I sat down hard in a bout of emotional exhaustion, jumping a little as the rest of the crew untangled directly in front of me. With everyone safe for the moment, I gave myself permission to collapse the rest of the way, to close my eyes for a moment.

  Amy was sprawled out next to me, evidenced by the closeness of her muttered whisper. “That was close.”

  Para kicked the bottom of my boot. “Where’s Fierce?”

  I didn’t want to open my eyes. “He’s right there.”

  She kicked my boot again. “No, he’s not.”

  That got us bolting to our feet. Jackson was sitting on the ground near Amy, his legs drawn up, forehead resting on forearms.

  Amy reached down and jostled Jackson’s shoulder. “Where’s Fierce?”

  Jackson lifted his head and looked around. “He’s right... here? I don’t know. Maybe he’s out for a quick recon.”

  Para turned on her heels to find him. “That must be it. I’ll go check on him.”

  I nodded, deciding to remind Fierce, when he got back, to be sure to give notice before he decided to wander off somewhere. The thought niggled at me all the same, he sure must have moved off quickly. Or, more likely, I was more exhausted than I thought, and had lain there longer than I thought. Time to get back to work, and review our recordings, to see if the Dahnahaash had been injured in their fall.

  The perimeter camera/sensors had done their job well, auto-loading to my pid, to provide several optical angles of the event. One of the giants, I think the one with a limp, had fallen backward into the blast hole, and was very slow to get up. The other had managed to fall more to the side, never taking its eyes off Fierce and Jackson. I switched cameras for a different angle and watched the giant raise a palm toward them, that odd bli
ster rising to emit a strange light, the unsophisticated sensor unable to provide information about the underlying forces.

  As I watched, Fierce and Jackson disappeared for a moment. That would be Amy and me, cloaked, stopping by to grab them. Then there was only Fierce, held in that strange light coming from the monster’s palm. Fierce! If I could only get my hands on a tac-nuke, I’d make sure the next ditch I dug for these monsters would bury them.

  I pushed out the recording to everyone in camp and ran over to Rock. “It’s Fierce! The monsters somehow have Fierce! We’ve got to go back and get him.” Rock wasn’t reacting very fast, prompting me to punch him in the shoulder. “Look at the image I just sent to you!”

  Rock wanted to do a series of flash-port recons, but I had something else in mind. “Listen up! Para, grab as many shape-charge munitions as you can handle. Someone, get me the Logan.

  “Rock, we’ll flash-port high to scan the area with the Logan, then hit the dirt and bury these monsters.”

  We untangled, cloaked, near our former cave camp, to review the Logan scan data. Nothing! The monsters, and Fierce, were nowhere to be found.

  ***

  Fierce has what we fondly but inaccurately call the gift-of-gab. Well, that isn’t quite correct. Fierce does have a natural capacity to speak with eloquence, when he wants to. But, when we talk about his gift-of-gab, it’s with regard to his ability to learn a new language quickly. That’s not at all natural. The connections he makes, moving quickly from a few words to generative syntax are astounding.

  The Dahnahaash untangled with Fierce at their camp, where his handler unceremoniously dumped him to the ground and pointed with the clear meaning to stay put. With that, Fierce made himself comfortable and settled in to observe and listen.

  These beings seemed to prefer lounging near a firepit, resting in hollowed out depressions formed by their own exuberant thrashings. In the background was an ornate dome structure filled with beautiful art, and exotic comforts, including enormous resting couches. These evidently preferred the dirt, with the rest some convoluted display of status. Fierce listened carefully as they feasted and talked of the day’s events.