Stand or Fall (The Omega War Book 4)
Page 5
Hak-Chet nodded and looked at the floor between them for a long moment. “So am I, Master Rsach. So am I.”
* * *
Aboard the Shendil-Ya
Hyperspace
A hyperspace transit was not 170 hours of rest, even for the MinSha. Drehnayl oversaw the reconstitution and refitting of her forces from their action on New Persia. Their losses were insignificant, but the damage caused by the Humans surprised her. MinSha infantry wore a sturdy armor which Human weapons, especially their conventional and primitive gunpowder weapons, couldn’t scratch. Yet, their laser weapons and automated pylons were quite effective at cutting through the armor and causing damage to life and limb. The general rubbed her forearms together in deep thought. The Humans were more insidious than any other creature she’d encountered in her career. When pushed against a wall, they would certainly fight to the death, but given the choice, most would run from conflict. The difference came from fear and its application.
Drehnayl’s antennae wiggled as a probable solution developed. If Humans see what awaits them, how far will they go to avoid conflict?
Certainly, General Peepo’s fleet over Earth was cause enough for the mercenary companies to run. But was the general’s presence enough to instill fear in the general populace? Drehnayl believed it was not. After all, it was easy to distract Humans, and they accepted things too readily. In Peepo’s mind, Humans would simply roll over and accept the Mercenary Guild given time, but that wasn’t what Drehnayl believed. The mercenary companies were going to fight. Unless the rest of humanity begged them not to out of fear.
The door to the bridge opened, and Colonel Chee climbed through the hatch and mounted her position across from Drehnayl’s chair. During hyperspace, Chee oversaw the maintenance and refitting operations for the combat operations forces. Drehnayl met her subordinate’s eyes.
“Report.”
Chee nodded solemnly. “Maintenance continues, General. Our forces remain combat effective, and we are currently working to better defend our landing craft from the Humans’ laser weapons. They’ve made significant advances.”
Drehnayl nodded. “I want our forces ready to sterilize Dresden on arrival.”
“We are not certain Nigel Shirazi has been to that planet, General.”
“That no longer matters!” Drehnayl snapped. “Our mission is to eliminate Human settlements, Colonel. Dresden is the nearest Human colony world. There are eleven thousand Humans there, and we will kill every one of them.”
Chee tilted her chin. “That assumes they are not prepared for an attack and cannot mount any defensive operation against our forces. On arrival, the prudent course of action is reconnaissance.”
Drehnayl stood up from her chair, grasping the floor stanchions with her feet to avoid floating away in the microgravity. “You presume to lecture me! We will attack, Colonel Chee, and your staff will capture the results on video feeds which we will assemble and transmit to Earth. We will make humanity fear us. We will drive them insane. They will cower before the Mercenary Guild, and we will own their planet, their resources, and their very souls.”
Chee nodded silently, and Drehnayl sank back into her restraints. After a moment, her executive officer looked her way again. “I wonder if the strategy will work, General.”
“Of course it will work.” Drehnayl clicked her jaw distastefully. “Humanity’s greatest weakness is fear. Their mercenaries will capitulate when the rest of their society does not want to fight.”
Chee’s antennae sagged in disagreement. “I do not see it that way, General.”
Drehnayl laughed. “You never see things the way I do, Chee. And yet, you are a more than capable officer whom I trust to complete the missions I give you. However, you lack confidence and foresight. Our forces will be triumphant.”
“Our forces will likely take significant losses,” Chee said. “Videoing the destruction of Dresden, or whatever targets follow, will likely spur the Humans to fight. I believe your strategy will work in the short term, but it will be dangerous to future operations.”
“Dangerous?” Drehnayl chittered again. “Even if the Humans suddenly get the will to fight, they cannot stop our ability to bombard them from orbit, overrun their ground-based defenses, and cut through their ranks like lasers. We outnumber them. We have better weapons. We have far better tactics. Simply put, we are the better force. You will ensure we capture that video and send it to Earth. We will strike fear into their hearts.”
Chee said nothing, looking away and focusing on her Tri-V displays. Drehnayl coaxed her body into a calm state after the agitating conversation. She knew her forces would be victorious in the end, which was all that mattered. When the Humans looked up in the sky and saw her ships, they would surrender or flee. Neither would save them. Her orders from Chinayl were clear—kill them all. Fear would drive those on Earth to acquiescence far faster than the mercenary companies could mount their inevitable counterattack.
Several minutes passed while Drehnayl studied the weapons stores and the status of operations. Before going into hyperspace, all of them had reported combat readiness well in advance of their arrival at the Dresden emergence point. Satisfied, she called up the planet’s characteristics and reference information. Preparation of the battlefield was critical, and while she could rely on her staff to assemble a competent battle plan, there were specific things she wanted to accomplish. Striking the largest cities from orbit would start a ripple effect. Smaller communities would assemble their defensive forces and make themselves known. Her ground forces could wipe them off the face of the planet with minimal losses. It was simply a matter of time and her more significant resources.
Drehnayl looked up and saw Chee studying a Tri-V presentation in one window. Those on the command bridge were not supposed to access such programming, even during a hyperspace transit. “What are you watching, Chee?”
“I am studying Human initiative.”
Drehnayl chittered. “In what sense, Chee?”
“Examples from Human history where technologically inferior forces successfully defended their territory against superior forces through sheer will.”
Drehnayl waved it away. “Every society has such occurrences, Chee. Humans are no different.”
Chee looked up. “Humans have nearly five times as many occurrences in their recorded history as the MinSha do. The Humans have made such stands before, and I expect them to do so again.”
“You are wrong, Chee. We have everything we need to create and apply the greatest weapon in our arsenal: fear.”
Chee nodded her head. “Respectfully, General, I shudder to think that humanity’s greatest weapon may be more than enough to conquer fear.”
“What is their greatest weapon, Chee? Their unpredictability. Their tenacity? All the things our predecessors recorded in the great records? We can conquer all of them.”
“What if we cannot conquer their will, General?” Chee asked. “What then?”
Drehnayl didn’t have an immediate answer. The more she thought about Chee’s question, the more she resented not having an answer. Undeterred, Chee kept speaking.
“A Human Peacemaker stood beside the MinSha on Weqq against her own species. There is no greater example of Human will and potential I can point to in recent history. She knew the situation was against her, and she prevailed. A Human stood with us, General.”
“She was foolish,” Drehnayl said. “Besides, she had a mission to accomplish and that meant standing against her fellow Humans. What happens when there is no mission? All Humans have at that point is the will to live. To live, they will give into their fears rather than face death. Not every Human can be a mythical hero, Chee.”
Chee tilted her head. “General? What if not all of them have to be?”
* * * * *
Chapter Five
New Persia
Torgero System
Jessica felt the thrust core’s emergence from hyperspace during a deep, restful sleep. Her dreams snapp
ed off like she was watching a Tri-V display during a power outage. Semi-lucid, Jessica rustled under the sleep retention netting and considered, for a few seconds at least, remaining in her bunk aboard Dreel’s personal yacht. No matter how warm and comfortable she was in her fleece-lined cocoon, though, going back to sleep wasn’t in the cards. A chime sounded from the speaker on the bulkhead above her.
“Peacemaker Francis? We’ve emerged at New Persia.” The two Pendal pilots sounded almost exactly alike, and they’d hardly spoken to her during the 170-hour transition. She wondered which one was speaking, before the Pendal continued in his measured, toneless way. “I’m afraid you need to see this. Please come to the bridge when you can.”
Jessica threw off the restraint and carefully floated out of the bunk. Her standard coveralls were clipped to the nearest wall, and as she pushed off to retrieve them, she stretched and adjusted the bottom hem of her dark gray tank-top. Stopping her movement with a gentle tap on the wall, she grabbed the coveralls and swung them down so she could slip into them with both legs at the same time. She worked the central zipper up and spied her boots attached to the floor below, adjacent to her bandolier and sidearm with holster. After a half-second of deliberation, she slipped on a fresh pair of socks, pushed her feet into her boots, and grabbed the bandolier. The last time there had been something amiss outside her quarters when she’d been resting—on Araf—she’d left her pistol behind and learned a painful lesson. Jessica slung her auburn hair into a ponytail and tied it back before making her way across the room to the hatch.
Outside, in the main passageway, Jessica adjusted her course with deft touches on the handholds that were where the floor would have been. Microgravity made every surface usable, and all it took was a little mental fortitude and a whole lot of practice. The bridge was amidships, on the spine of the sleek yacht. In the stern lay the engine compartments and engineering sections built as a cylinder around the core itself. The yacht occupied the bow position at the forward end of the thrust core. Along the spine of the larger vessel lay a half-dozen yachts of various design attached to the core for transport through hyperspace. The core was sleek and powerful—the Besquith designed beautiful and elegant ships when they wanted to. Maybe Dreel wanted it for his personal flair, but the ship was something to behold. Jessica floated up through the hatch in the center of the bridge behind the two Pendal pilots. Light streamed in from the forward windows. The day side of New Persia hung in space below them. They were far enough away that the full disc of the planet was visible, save for where the day/night terminator traversed the brown, arid continents from east to west. Thick black clouds filled the northern pole area. Jessica gasped and covered her mouth with one hand.
Those aren’t clouds. That’s smoke. Jessica shook her head. “Anything on preliminary scans?”
The Pendal command pilot, the one to her immediate right, turned to look at her. “Nothing, Peacemaker. We’ve identified the major settlements as requested. They are mostly burned out. Damage readings are catastrophic. Synthetic aperture radar shows there is nothing standing that is more than two meters high. This coincides with reports of multiple nuclear detonations at each site.”
Gods. Jessica felt sick to her stomach but forced herself to listen as the Pendal continued.
“There is one settlement in the southern hemisphere that has also been destroyed, but the damage suggests no nuclear device was used. We are not intelligence operatives, but we believe that is your destination. The settlement of Tal-al-Badr.”
That’s where we start. Jessica sighed. “Is there a collection protocol for a situation like this?” Jessica asked. “I mean, does the yacht have the ability to record this visual data?”
The Pendal command pilot nodded once. “One deck below, forward space two. All sensor feeds are directed there. We are monitoring the entire electromagnetic spectrum and recording data at the direction of Captain Dreel.”
Jessica smiled. “I didn’t think a diplomatic craft could have that kind of sensor equipment on board.”
“There is nothing explicitly against data collection in the laws of the Union, Peacemaker, although many of the individual systems have laws against it. As you are no doubt aware, though, diplomacy is often a polite word for subterfuge.”
“I’d never thought of it that way,” Jessica conceded, “but I’m sure far worse has been done throughout the Union’s history.”
“I believe the Human saying is ‘you have no idea,’ Peacemaker.”
Jessica chuckled. “I’m going to look at the incoming data. Let me know when we’re on final approach, please.”
“Certainly, Peacemaker.” The Pendal turned his attention back to the yacht’s operation, and Jessica took her cue. She pushed off and descended into the main passageway. After a stop at the galley for a bulb of espresso and a protein bar, she settled into the collection bay, hoping to find something of value or the faintest glimmer of hope for the planet below. There was nothing. No artificial electromagnetic spectrum signals. No audio. No camera feeds from the planet. Nothing. The planet had been effectively sterilized. Jessica ate in silence, watching the swirling smoke clouds in New Persia’s upper atmosphere.
There were too many questions and not enough answers. As much as she hated the thought, Jessica knew the only way to ascertain the extent of the damage was to land on the planet and explore the wreckage on foot. Her espresso was cold, and it was just as well. She pushed away from the console and made her way back to her quarters. From the two large duffel bags strapped to the floor, Jessica pulled out her basic assault combat armor. The intricate jacket and separate pants were articulated at the joints and exceptionally comfortable to wear. The armor was not the same navy blue as her Peacemaker coveralls, but a dark gray with blue movement panels, and they eschewed the yellow “see me” strap on her left shoulder for subdued gray lettering on the chest. Jessica removed a combat helmet with full faceplate and her combat gloves. Combined with the BAMF armor, they would protect her in a chemically- or biologically-compromised environment. She grabbed her earpiece, plugged it into her left ear, and keyed the combat slate on her wrist.
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“Lucille, tap the collection platforms in forward space two and make a separate record.”
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“Thanks, Lucille. Have you downloaded any information or news from the gate?”
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Jessica smiled. If there was nothing about her father, Tara Mason, or the Georgia Bulldogs football team, it was a news day she could forget. She shook her head. “Anything from Earth?”
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“But at least one of them was here. Search the gate for any flight plan files for Asbaran Solutions, please.”
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“Meaning you might be able to with a near-direct connection?”
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Jessica looked around her stateroom for the required acceleration/deceleration harness. On one end of the recessed bed, she found the straps. Set for a much larger Besquith, the harness took a fair amount of adjustment, which she finished just as the first vibrations came up from the yacht’s hull. Within seconds, the vibrations were enough to shake her body and distort her vision. Jessica mashed her eyes closed. “Time to smooth air, Lucille?”
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“Sudden oscill—” the world swayed hard to Jessica’s left. Hands balled into fists, Jessica clenched her jaw at the sudden, violent nausea. Her memory flashed back to an ill-fated, deep-sea fishing trip with her father the summer before he disappeared. They were off the coast of the Outer Banks, almost due east of Cape Hatteras, in heavy swells. The sweaty men nursed their beers and tended their fishing poles. Jessica and her mother sat along the gunwales of the boat, heads draped over the railing, so they wouldn’t soil their clothes and shoes any more than necessary. Helplessly sick, with nothing to control her nausea, her father had carefully nudged the others into returning to port. The hour-and-a-half ride back to the pier had been murderous, and though she’d lurched uncontrollably when walking on dry land again, the intense nausea faded quickly enough for her to enjoy a fish fry. It was the last happy time with both parents together she could remember.
The vibrations and oscillations faded almost exactly as Lucille predicted, and Jessica opened her eyes. Sweat ran down her face, but she could not wipe it away as the G forces piled on. She wondered whether the Pendal flight crew was competent or simply trying to get her to be sick all over her mentor’s quarters. Jessica focused on Peacemaker breathing techniques and tried to find one to settle her racing heart and calm her stomach. None of them worked. Even her favorite centering technique for weapons firing failed in the sensory overload of high-speed interface. Jessica bit down on the inside of her lip and focused on deep, rhythmic breaths. Mind clear and body settled, Jessica nearly dozed off after a few minutes, and the gentle vibrations almost lulled her to sleep as gravity returned.
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