Infected World Trilogy (Books 1-3): They Only Come Out At Night

by Guenther, David

  Harve was in the last passageway to the bridge when he was forced to don his helmet. A work crew was already cutting open the bulkhead to get to the interior cabling, while across the passageway the exterior hull was being patched.

  Only a few new prisoners were rounded up, as most of the crew had escaped. Guards working with the repair crews were sadistic in their use of the remotes that operated the slaves’ pain collars.

  “Faster!” one of the guards demanded. “We need to be out of here soon. Speed it up, or you’ll be on the hull crew.”

  Harve winced in sympathy for his fellow slaves, seeing them spasm with pain. He did not have a pain collar, since he was a high-level trustee. But he knew that if he failed his captors, they would either kill his wife and daughter or put them in a pleasure house.

  “Harve, report to auxiliary control.” The speaker did not identify himself, so Harve assumed it was a guard.

  When he got there, he discovered that mixed slaves and ship’s crew held auxiliary control and had started to arm Harve’s fellow slaves. The crewman who appeared to have taken charge gave Harve a once-over.

  “We need you to disable the FTL,” he said. “We were able to send a distress call, but we don’t want to jump before help gets here.”

  Harve realized that he was probably the only one who could disable the FTL without killing everyone if they tried to engage it. A sharp pain went through his head as he debated possible freedom versus the punishment he’d receive if he got caught.

  A message blared from a guard’s radio. “Everyone back to the ships! We have enemy inbound.” Without thinking, Harve jumped into action, opening the FTL panel and adjusting the switches to disable the drive. Looking up, he saw his fellow slaves wriggling on the deck as the crew watched in horror.

  “Do you have access to internal security?” Harve yelled at a crewman. The crewman pulled up the interior cameras in time to see the last shuttle depart.

  “Quick!” Harve shouted. “Get the force fields up to full power. Weapons, lock on the destroyers and fire.”

  The full battery of lasers managed to disable one of the destroyers just as the other two ships used their FTL to jump away. Two dozen shuttles were still trying to decide where to go when the squadron of Fire fleet cruisers arrived.

  “This is Commander Gun of the Fire Ship Fleet. I am responding to the request for assistance.” The disabled destroyer responded foolishly by firing on the cruisers. Retaliation was swift, and the cruisers pummeled the destroyer with laser fire until it was dead in space.

  “Fire Fleet, this is the cruiser Vengeance. We were attacked by the unidentified destroyers and sent the signal for help. Thank you for saving us.”

  “Vengeance, do you require additional assistance?”

  “We will be operational soon. The shuttles are loaded with slaves and guards. Can you rescue them?”

  As the twenty-four shuttles began to return to the Vengeance, armed crewmen met them. The first shuttle to dock opened its hatch, revealing that half of its occupants were dead, including all of the guards. Crewmen quickly checked the occupants of each shuttle, one by one, and sent the survivors to a collection point. The slaves who had survived were surprised, then exhilarated, to find out they were once again free, but the mood soon changed when new shuttles from the Fire ships arrived.

  “This ship is now confiscated by the Fire Ship Fleet. All former ships of the Libra Alliance were to have surrendered to the League of Planets. You will all be taken to Planet Viz, which is similar to the Libra world in atmosphere and temperature. Anyone who wishes may instead head for the planet’s surface before we depart.” Commander Gun ordered.

  Harve realized that he might never see his family again, now that he had helped save the ship. When the Jacka asked for volunteers to crew the ship for the trip to Viz, he made a point to be seen volunteering. He also made sure it was known that he had fixed the FTL. I wonder how these new masters will be? He thought as he set his sights on the future.

  GRAY PANTHERS: INVASION

  Gray Panthers Invasion

  Chapter 1

  Planet Taabu in the Kuingia System

  1 June 2129

  The sun was barely visible on the horizon as it slowly sank from sight. The sky was quickly growing dark as the soldiers in the trench breathed a collective sigh of relief, knowing they’d survived another day. The aliens on the other side of the ‘no man’s land’ didn’t venture out at night or when it was cold.

  Steve Caldwell, previously of the Dixie cargo ship Memphis Queen, started to shiver as the wind blew through the open trench line he was guarding along with the other thirty troops of his company. The company was under the flag of the Libra Alliance, and the troops were a half dozen different species, mainly a mix of Jacka mercenaries and human slaves, either taken during the aborted invasion of Dixie or kidnapped by pirates and sold to the Libra Alliance as cannon fodder. The huge Jacka sergeant blew two low, long blasts on his whistle, signaling for the platoon to head to their underground lair. Steve risked one last quick look over the edge of the trench, noting from the bodies that the enemy had made it further than they had ever before. We either need better or more weapons, he thought as he imagined the aliens breaching the defenses. He turned around in time to see the last troop disappearing into the side of the trench as he jumped down from the shooting perch to follow.

  Pushing aside the heavy tarp that acted as the door, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The little light available was provided by primitive candles that smelled similar to garlic, and the smell of the candles did little to mask the musty smell of urine and body odor. Steve went to his bunk and placed his rifle on it before taking off his web gear and stowing it on the peg above his bunk. The rifle and gear was originally designed for the Jacka. The ten pound rifle was a bolt-action single shot, firing a cartridge big enough to kill an elephant. The rifle was very low tech without even a way to aim it adequately. After he’d been issued the weapon, he had used pieces of metal to make his own sight for the weapon and had been pleased with the results. The gear had been tailored to fit him since he was much smaller than a normal Jacka.

  Plopping down on his bunk, a sigh escaped his lips. He felt the day's tension begin to fade as he reached to untie his mud-covered boots. The smell of his wet, dirty feet assaulted his nostrils for only a moment as he put the boots near the leg of his bunk and grabbed his cleaning kit. Looking around the underground den, he saw that everyone else was cleaning their weapons before eating or washing themselves. He quickly tore the rifle down to the three main parts: trigger assembly, barrel and stock. The trigger assembly looked clean enough so he just gave it a light oiling and wiped away the excess. The barrel only needed a quick run through with an oily rag to get rid of bits of mud that had managed to get into it. The muddy stock was battered over every square inch with deep scratches and gouges on its synthetic surface. He wiped it down, then reassembled the rifle before reloading it and hanging it on the peg near his bunk. Steve lay down on top of the covers. The leader of the company was in the bunk next to his and nodded his head in approval of Steve cleaning his weapon before lying down.

  The leader was huge, for even a Jacka. Eight feet tall, weighing over three hundred pounds, his head looked like it belonged on a lion. His body was human-like, only covered in a heavy fur with two pairs of arms instead of one. He wore a uniform that was similar to those worn during the American Civil War except it was a bright green color. The leader could only speak his own language and initially had to pantomime his orders before the humans understood what he wanted. He had also beaten each of the humans when they did not understand what he wanted them to do. Now the leader, whom they had nicknamed "Sarge”, was more easy going since they had worked well together and even responded when the humans called him by his nickname.

  After the humans had been captured and then sold to the Libra, they were indoctrinated by a Libra officer wearing a translation device. He told them the galaxy had b
een invaded through an artificial wormhole, the enemy had a foothold in a small system and did not appear to want to stop there. Libra intelligence was positive the plan was to conquer all before it with no plans to stop. The invader's technology was similar to the Libras and their allies, the Republic, except they had a device that prevented ships from being able to use their FTL drives and instead were limited to sublight speed only. There was also a device used on planets that disabled all electronic devices within range. The Libra had not yet found a way to counter either device.

  The only knowledge the Libra had on the invaders themselves was from the bodies recovered on the battlefields. The warm-blooded mammals ranged in size from twelve inches to twenty-four inches, entirely covered in thick black fur, including their arms and legs. Their heads were feline-shaped with almond shaped eyes and a tiny nose between them. Just under the eyes, they had a small mouth with sharp fangs and teeth. Instead of clothing, they either wore a simple vest containing numerous pockets or crisscrossed belts to carry weapons and ammo.

  Steve watched the others as they went about their evening routine. Four humans were sitting at a table in the corner, playing a boisterous game of poker with a half dozen Jacka standing behind them, trying to figure out the game and cheering on the winner of each hand in their own language, slapping the winner of each hand on the back. Other Jacka were sitting around a fire roasting the body parts of a dead Kust soldier from the Republic. The Kust species looked like red six-foot tall locusts and, ordinarily, their species managed the banks in the Republic. Those on the front lines were in the penal companies after being convicted of crimes on their homeworld, and then drafted in the war against the invaders. Steve got up and walked over to the fire, slapping a couple of the Jacka on the back as they sat in front of the fire. He then pointed to a piece of leg roasting above the fire. The Jacka to his left reached in and pulled it out, then tossed it to him. Steve caught it and immediately began juggling it between his hands, trying to avoid burning himself while pulling up the front of his uniform to use as a mitt. The Jacka roared with laughter at his antics. Steve smiled back, making sure not to show teeth since he had painfully learned this would be mistaken as a challenge. Cracking the outer shell, he dug out the stringy white meat with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. If I only had some butter and salt, I'd swear I was eating crab legs, he thought wistfully.

  Candle flames flickered and a few blown out as a Jacka captain with a Dixie sergeant accompanying him entered from the trench. The entire company as one jumped to the position of attention. Steve stood, staring straight ahead, waiting for the order to recover from the position of attention and dreading what the officer had to say since it could only be bad news. The captain gave the order “at ease,” then continued to speak for a few minutes. Steve knew the commands by now but waited to hear the sergeant to translate. “Men, your company has been stood down. You will return to the rear for new troops, equipment replacement, and a general rest. Anticipate eighty hours downtime. There will even be human food,” he stopped and looked at Steve as he continued, “so none of you have to eat our allies. They get testy about that.” Steve interrupted, “Aww sergeant, have you tried any of our allies? They’re delicious.” The rest of the human troops laughed as the sergeant grinned before replying. “We don't get any bodies in the rear. Now get your shit together everyone, the replacement platoon will be here in ten minutes.” Steve stood there in shock; he figured he’d remain in the trenches until his death. This would be his first time off the line since he arrived six months ago.

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