Torbin used the laser pointer to illuminate the tentacles. “Why the difference? Because the larger male tentacles, besides being used to manipulate tools as well if not better than our hands, are also used in mating. Although the males have fairly large external genitalia, for some unknown reason it is used only as the backup means to deliver their sperm. The Tschaaa seem to prefer implanting their sperm into the Tschaaa female with their strong, long and sensitive fingers. The smaller, dainty tentacle hands of the female, though capable of intricate tool use, are designed to caress, stroke, basically excite the male during the mating activity.
The three female Russian officers whispered something amongst themselves, then began to giggle until the senior Russian male gave them a dirty look.
“Now, after the two Squids do the ‘nasty’–that is, mate–what happens next?”
A fuzzy photo was shown of a female Tschaaa, with what first looked like four large buds or bumps emanating from her body.
“At first, scientists believed that they actually ‘budded’, that the young grew inside outward as buds, like on plants, then broke off to swim free. Now we know that, like marsupials (almost), the very tiny young are expelled from the birth canal, then attach themselves to some very small nipple-like structures in pouches near the base of the females’ arms. There they grow in size, looking like large bumps, taking sustenance from their mother.
“At one year of age, they have the ‘second birth’, at which point they break free from their mother. Once free, they have the capability of swimming, both by arm locomotion and the siphon jet routine our native squid use. However, they stay near the birthing area for the next five years, tended by non-gravid females as the Breeders get pregnant again.”
Torbin displayed a picture of several representative female Squids. “Females have limited options in Tschaaa society. Some ten percent are chosen, based on their genetics, to be full time breeders. Each breeder gives birth about every twelve to thirteen months, depending how fast a male can get his tentacles and sperm into the breeders’ naughty bits after the second birth.
“They normally have from two to four young at a time, sometimes six, very rarely eight, and, once every one hundred years or so, a breeder has a litter of ten. This is a ‘Big Deal’, taking on basically religious and supernatural-like connotations. The easiest way to explain it would be if one human woman had a virgin birth in Christian belief every hundred years, producing several Messiahs.
“Eighty-five percent of the females spend their lives caring for the young of their Crèche. Before everyone begins to think this is a form of misogynistic slavery, know that in Tschaaa Society, the young are everything to the Tschaaa.
“All females involved in the production, care and maintenance of the young, both male and female, are treated with the utmost respect. They, after the young, get the bulk of the fresh cuts of meat. A lot of that would be classified as ‘veal’.”
The Russian women, although professional military, became a bit pale when they realized what human veal was to the Squids. One of the Butterbars looked like she was having trouble keeping her last meal down.
“The last five percent are allowed to be warriors, technicians, scientists, whatever the males Squids do, and are treated exactly like them when it comes down to resource allocation. You see, males compete to climb up the social ladder so that they can mate with a breeder. Like alpha males in the animal kingdom, if you are not numero uno in a pack, the chances of having sex with a female are slim.
“Once in a great while, a regular female outside of the selected breeding lineages is randomly selected to be impregnated. This is to provide a little random genetic variance to prevent a line of royal idiots from taking over. There is no British royal family among the Squids.” This elicited a few laughs.
“Now, why is all this is important in relation to the so-called Lord Neptune, you may ask? Well, his birth mother was one of the randomly-selected females to add genetic diversity. She then proceeded to give birth to ten Tschaaa.”
Torbin let this sink in. “That’s right. He and his brothers and sisters–littermates–were the closest thing to royalty, or supernatural leaders that the Squids have. He was told he was special, which may have led him to think in a special way, to our detriment. While the Tschaaa were getting stagnant in the thousand year long journey, Lord Neptune was just the opposite.
“Although the Senior Lords tried to limit his effect on the way things were done, he used his ‘specialness’ to push for new things. He found sufficient supporters so that ninety percent of the weapons and equipment used against us were either his new idea, or his modification of existing designs, including that equipment taken from the alien races the Squids ran into during their travel into space. He spent years studying our transmissions, and knows us possibly better than we know ourselves in some ways. He seems to be steps ahead of us on any given day. So, if any one Tschaaa is responsible for kicking our ass, it looks like him.”
Torbin continued, “But, he is also the one pushing the idea that we are potentially of more use than just being a nice cut of meat. He seems to want to make us the equivalent of ‘working dogs’, allowed to coexist as long as we are both obedient and useful to our alien masters. He and the Director have outlined the Protocols of Selective Survival. These concepts have probably kept us from being nuked and rocked back to the Stone Age as the Tschaaa leave our solar system. The fact that their young seem to love our oceans probably doesn’t hurt, either.
“Their home world seems to be almost eighty percent ocean, with ninety percent of dry land being around their equator. Although Squids can take cold water thanks to their copper-based blood, like our squids, they do not like it. Additionally, their young need warm seas the first few years to develop well.
“So, we get the Arctic and Antarctic oceans, parts of Alaskan and Canadian northern waters. They get the rest of the oceans.”
Torbin changed slides. “Now, what and who else did the Squids bring with them? Let’s look.” Pictures of grays and lizards appeared. “Since the second week of the Invasion, we have seen few of them. Possibly because they make easier targets than they do soldiers.”
The senior Russian Officer, a Colonel Antonov, cleared his throat loudly.
“Do you have a question, Sir?”
“My young Captain, you speak with an air of knowledge and experience in combat. But, I see large complexes in these northern states, and fair numbers of Americans. We Russians fought tooth and nail for our motherland. Now, three quarters of us are dead. How do we know that you are not just spinning tales to assuage your well-known American conceit and pride?”
Torbin looked to his Commander. General John Reed, though a former Air Force Puke and not a Marine, knew his stuff. Now, once again, they had to deal with someone playing power games when they should be thinking of killing Squids.
“Colonel,” General Reed began, in a firm tone. “You have seen our photos from Yuma, Arizona, correct?”
“The Battle of Yuma? Yes, we have watched the DVD. It is like many combats we also had in the early days of the Invasion.”
“Well, Colonel, Captain Torbin was an enlisted Marine then, and was the highest ranking person to survive. He got his people home after getting all that film evidence and destroying the harvester. I think he knows how to deal with aliens.”
A young Japanese Lieutenant chose that moment to spring to rigid attention, began rambling in Japanese, then bowed to Torbin, as his Colonel Tanaka started to tell him be seated in Japanese. He sat down as quickly as he had risen. Then Colonel Tanaka himself stood, bowing slightly to General Reed.
“My apologies, General. Lt. Yamamoto was overtaken by the emotion of the moment. Please, Captain, continue.”
Torbin looked at his boss. The General gave a nod. Torbin addressed Colonel Tanaka. “May I ask what the good Lieutenant was saying?”
The Colonel paused, and then answered in perfect English, “Captain, Lt. Yamamoto lost his family to one
of the few harvesters that landed on Japan. They seemed more content to hit us with a few ‘stones’, and then strafe us from above. He has seen your film many times, and wishes that is what he could have done in Japan.”
Torbin bowed to the Lieutenant. “Please, accept my condolences. My parents died quickly during a rock strike, and my brother died in combat. But I, too, wish I could have done more.”
Colonel Tanaka asked Torbin, “You come from a military family?”
“Yes, Sir. My father was a ranger, my brother was an Air Force pilot. Past generations have also served in the military, including World War Two, in the Pacific.”
The Colonel drew himself up a bit, then, in a formal tone, “General, Captain, may I present Lt. Yamamoto, a descendent of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, who died fighting America in World War Two. The Lieutenant hopes to carry on the Yamamoto name with honor. He has done so thus far, in direct combat with the Tschaaa.”
The Lieutenant snapped to his feet again and began to rattle off once more in Japanese.
“Yamamoto-San. English, please.” Colonel Tanaka snapped.
Yamamoto took a deep breath, and then repeated in fluent English, “You do me and my family great honor, my Colonel.”
“No Lieutenant, it is you who do us honor.”
Colonel Tanaka continued speaking. “That family samurai sword the Lieutenant carries with him has already dispatched eight Tschaaa warriors.”
Colonel Antonov snorted. “I am sorry, but do you expect us to believe he has killed eight Squid with a sword, when we only see them in aircraft? We fight robots and those giant warriors they have.”
“Because, Colonel, the Islands of Japan have been selected for what we call special attention.”
“How so?” asked General Reed.
“Because of the Fukushima nuclear plant meltdown and contamination we suffered after the tsunami. The Tschaaa seemed to be hesitant to eat us in the first few days after the Invasion, due to residual radiation that can still be detected in some areas with sensitive instruments.”
One of the female Russians, a raven-haired beauty, seized that opportunity to chime in. “That is like Chernobyl. We’ve had no reports of aliens any nearer than two hundred miles from ground zero. They are afraid of radiation contamination.” For this comment, she received another dirty look from Colonel Antonov.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Torbin interjected. “The Squids are hyper sensitive about a contaminated food supply for their young.” He turned to Colonel Tanaka. “What have the Squids been doing in Japan?”
“Their young warriors sneak ashore in ones and twos, sometimes in groups up to four. They hunt and kill, leaving the bodies behind, the only occasions in which we have heard of this happening. They seem to be testing themselves, bringing only handheld weapons with them.”
Colonel Tanaka looked at his Lieutenant with the pride a father would have for his son. “Yamamoto-San has proven the superiority of traditional Nippon Bushido swordplay on land eight different times. Tell them, Lieutenant.”
“They seem to underestimate what a katana can do. Slash off a couple of appendages, and the aliens freeze for a brief moment, providing the perfect opportunity to impale the brain through their eye.”
Torbin had once imagined himself ‘Billy Badass’ with a rifle. But a freaking sword?
“Gentlemen. Please,” Colonel Antonov interjected. “Can we now continue with the briefing? I can assure you that everyone in this room has seen their share of conflict and deprivation. My staff and I are tired from a very long and arduous journey.” It seemed now that the Colonel had lost his chance to one up everyone, he wanted to change the subject.
General Reed turned to Torbin. “Think you can finish expeditiously, Captain?”
“Yes, Sir. Now, let’s look at the other players and their toys in this nasty game of death…”
Two hours later, Captain Torbin crashed on his rack. He had a private room, befitting his rank and accomplishments. He would gladly trade those creature comforts for a combat post.
There was a knock on his door. Now what? Reluctantly, he slow opened the door, and found Lieutenant Yamamoto standing on the other side, a bottle of scotch in one hand, and a bottle of saki in the other.
“Captain, please. I wish to share a toast with you.”
Torbin smiled in relief. “Apparently, Lieutenant, you know my weakness. Any self- respecting Marine cannot turn down a drink offer, especially scotch. Do come in. Find a seat. I’ll get the ice for the scotch. Do you want the saki warmed?”
“You have shared drinks with the Japanese before?”
“I have had a drink with just about every cultural group on Earth. I hope one day to have a drink with the Tschaaa. Just before I blow their brains out.”
They were soon sitting down, enjoying the quality libations Yamamoto had provided.
Torbin noticed for the first time that Yamamoto seemed taller than the might have expected, 5’ 10” at least. Torbin had previously accessed the limited internet they had set up using the military-based servers in the Unoccupied States and found a photo of Admiral Yamamoto. There was a family facial resemblance, but the Lieutenant was definitely leaner and taller than his ancestor. Probably inherited from the non-Yamamoto side of the family.
“What is your first name again, Lieutenant?”
“Ichiro. And yours, Captain?”
“Torbin. A family name. Tor for short, which is sometimes mistaken for Thor, but I am definitely not the God of Thunder. Marvel or otherwise.”
“Ah. You read comic books.”
“Ichiro, if I may call you that, ninety-nine percent of kids of my generation read comic books, of one kind or another. But your Japanese anime gave a kickstart to all future animated forms of entertainment… that is, until the Squids showed up.”
They were silent for a few moments, musing about childhood joys probably gone forever.
“Are you a pilot, Tor-San?”
He snorted. “Not even close. My brother was, he came to it naturally. Why do you ask?”
“You had an accurate grasp of the Tschaaa deltas, the Falcons in the briefing. We know of the 32mm electromagnetic cannon, the three inch guided missiles used in actual combat. Although we now have limited fuel, we still intercept the odd delta that attempts to penetrate our airspace. Like the raids by Tschaaa warriors from the sea, they act as if it is a test, a game, a real life video game.”
Ichiro continued, “But you Americans do not seem to have an operational Air Force of any capability. Is that so?”
Torbin chuckled. “Yes, that’s true. We’re trying to piece together aircraft as we speak, and we have maybe a dozen of all types available. The Squids targeted our airfields and airports, and were sabotaged by the Quisling Renegades, both which reduced most of our aircraft to scrap metal. We still have substantial ground to air defenses available, but that is good for point defense only.”
Torbin did not mention the somewhat operational ICBMs that were still scattered around the former Northern Tier bases. But, even if they all still worked, they would only either cause another nuclear winter, or contaminate the living areas still under human control. Humankind would be unlikely to recover from either one.
“However, we do have a good deal of intelligence assets. Because Lord so-called Neptune left so many pockets and centers of non-meat humans alone, to survive on their own largely unsupervised, we have a lot of sources of information that keep track of Tschaaa. Squid watching, Ichiro, is the only ‘hobby’ some humans have left.”
Torbin looked at Ichiro. “You are a pilot.”
“Hai. Yes, I was finishing pilot training when the Tschaaa attacked. It took me a few months longer to become fully certified, due to heavy aircraft and fuel losses. But, I saw my first aerial combat a year to the day after the first stone strike.”
“What was it like?”
Ichiro gave a beaming smile. “Exhilarating. I knew I was born to be a warrior. There were two deltas, instead of the normal one.” A
s innumerable fighter jocks before him, Ichiro began demonstrating the aerial combat with his hands.
“They came in at close to mach three, though we know they can go faster on their scramjets. But, they wanted us to intercept them, to fight. I and my three flight mates accommodated them.” Torbin had never seen a more animated soldier or pilot. He also seemed to have a photographic memory, the way he demonstrated the entire combat, relating what each aircraft did and when.
“They fired their electromagnetic cannon, one round from each cannon, the finned shells traveling some two thousand meters per second. As you know, they have an organic limited artificial intelligence in the warhead that keys in on moving objects, using their fins and tiny maneuver jets to twist and turn after us.”
Ichiro jumped to his feet, almost knocking over his drink. “But my Squadron Commander, Major Chiba, had planned for this. He had installed rear-facing, target-marking rockets on our jets. When we fired them, at the shells, their quick movement caused the finned shells to turn toward them. Chaff and flares traveled too slowly to attract the AI. Unlike those targets, our rockets were quick.
“The Tschaaa delta pilots seemed surprised by this tactic. They turned their now well-known fifteen plus gravity turns, boring toward the rockets.
“I turned my fighter around in the air, and was on the tail of one of the deltas for a moment. Before he could use his gravity pulse engine to accelerate out of the area, I fired every weapon I had. The tough skin and frame of the delta, though very strong, collapsed under my weapons. My first kill.”
Ichiro paused, and then sat down, his demeanor suddenly becoming more subdued.
“The surviving delta did a 15 G turn, latched onto me, and shot me from the sky. I ejected, and my parachute opened. As I swung to Earth, dangling in my chute, the delta looked as if it would turn its gunnery run on me in apparent revenge for the loss of his twin. Then, it happened...”
The Gathering Storm Page 10
