Invasion (Vegetable Wars Book 1)

by Jonathan Brazee

  “I’ve been in my vault since yesterday afternoon.”

  “And they let you alone? That’s weird. I saw the monitors of what they did to the outlying farms around here. It wasn’t pretty. The Pavonis, when the bastards came in their house, and Hermes tried to fight them, that was. . .” she said, trailing off.

  “I beat them back,” he interrupted, sensing she was getting into visuals that were better forgotten for the moment. “I burned them.”

  “No shit? You burned them? With what?”

  “I made a kind of napalm,” he said, not without a bit of pride.

  “Then I really need you here, like now.”

  “But you said they’re all dead. Why the urgency?”

  “Because, that ship up there? It launched landers, thousands of them, and all are heading right here to the station!”

  ********

  Two hours later, Colby brought the cargo pod to a halt as the station came into view. He’d loaded the pod with with his two flame throwers, his grenades, some extra chemicals, and, of course, Duke. The pods were designed to transport crops to the station and bring back supplies, not for personal transport. It was awkward and snug, but it beat walking, which he’d assumed he’d have to do before he’d been able to repair one of the dead-lined pods. It had just enough power in the batteries to follow the inert telltales buried in the hover track to the station.

  Even at this distance, he could see through the front-mounted cam that the enemy plants were already at the station, what had been a collection of four warehouses, a processing station, and the launch facility. Three of the warehouses had been broken down into rubble, and the plants looked to be swarming the processing station and the launch cannon. He couldn’t be sure over the distance, and the damaged structures were of little use for comparison, but the enemy seemed bigger today.

  “I’m at D2, Topeka,” he passed over the comms, using her first name as she insisted. “How’re you holding out?”

  “About fucking time, General,” she answered. “They’ve still got hard-ons for the cannon and factory.”

  The cannon was essentially a rail gun that launched the cargo pods into space and on an intercept course for the wormhole that took them to the huge distribution network on New Mars. Although it wasn’t designed for personnel, it could be used as a last-ditch emergency evacuation system in specially designed cargo pods. If the plants managed to take the cannon out of action, then neither of the two surviving humans (three, if you counted Riordan locked away in his medical chamber) was going to get off the planet until and if someone came charging to the rescue.

  “I think they’re keying in on the cannon and irradiation units in the factory,” she added.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “It makes sense. What’s the cannon but a big electromagnetic field? And the irradiation units, what powers them? It makes friggin’ sense. I think they can detect them, ’cause that’s right where they headed. I about crapped myself when they landed, seeing as you were taking your sweet time to get here, but they walked right on past me.”

  Colby ignored the not-so-subtle jab. Topeka might be outspoken and crude, but she’d been through a lot, and what she’d said about the plants made sense.

  “Have you seen any movement to the south of your position?”

  “My position? You mean in the house?”

  “Where you’re at now. At the launch facility.”

  The three station personnel’s living quarters were above the facility’s office and control center, so it made sense that they simply called it their “house,” but he couldn’t assume anything, not with these stakes.

  “I’m not sure. I can’t really just go for a stroll to see, you know. But I think it’s probably clear.”

  He took a moment to observe the station compound. On the north side of the building, the cannon’s rail lay on an east-west axis to take advantage of the clockwise rotation of the planet. He couldn’t see too much detail from well over a klick away, but while the plant soldiers were all over the rail, the south side of the building looked clear.

  “OK, this is what I’m going to do. I’ve got some weapons with me, and I’m not going to abandon them. I’m going to take my pod to Charlie’s loading docks,” he said, referring to the lone warehouse still standing.”

  “Can’t,” Topeka interrupted him. “The road’s been too torn up. Your pod won’t make it through. Just come here to the house, and I’ll let you in.”

  That was getting too close to the enemy for comfort, but he had a bigger concern.

  “No hover pads to take me there.”

  “Don’t need them none. Get to D1, then uncouple your pod. You can trolley it from there to here.”

  “Uncouple it?” he asked, more than a little confused.

  Once locked into the track, the pods followed the designated path, internal controls keeping them on course.

  “Geez! You’ve been here how long, and you don’t even know your equipment? Uncouple it. Just hit externals, then your pin, then ‘Break Lock.’”

  Colby hadn’t known he could do that. In all fairness, he’d never had to. Once his pods left the farm, they were out of sight and out of mind. But if he could unlock the pod, then he should be able to guide it as it hovered over the ground.

  “OK, I’m on my way,” he said.

  “Make it quick, General.”

  He didn’t respond but started the pod up again. He was in plain sight of the enemy fighters, if they even had sight as he knew it, but he couldn’t detect any sign that they were paying attention to him. At the farm, they hadn’t focused on him until he’d tossed the ANFO bomb. Before that, it was as if he didn’t exist, or as if he wasn’t considered as important as pulling up his crops. That made no sense to him, but part of his training had been to try and understand his enemies. He could not accept that ignoring him was some random act. For the plants, there had to be a reason he’d been ignored until he’d revealed himself as someone who could cause them harm.

  I hope the ones at the farm haven’t been in contact with these guys, passing around my mugshot.

  He reached D1 and stopped the pod. Following Topeka’s instructions, he uncoupled it from the track.

  “Here goes,” he said to Duke, then popped the cover and stepped out.

  He half expected some of the plants would turn towards him, but once again, it was as if he wasn’t there. Just as well; these plants were indeed bigger, nearly his own height. He shrugged, thankful for their disinterest, and gave the pod a tug. The thing had to mass 3,000 kg, but it followed him like a puppy as he slowly made his way off the track and down to the footpath that led into the station. He passed a destroyed junction box of some kind, the twisted wreck and smashed foundation a testament to the raw strength of the plants.

  Duke whined from inside the pod, but he ignored her. He didn’t want her running around and drawing attention to him. He was too exposed as it was, and he kept his eyes scanning, ready to bolt and run at the first sign he was on the things’ radar. They may be immensely strong, but he was quicker, and he was ready to put that quickness to use if needed.

  But it wasn’t needed. He made his way to the facility unopposed. The most difficult thing was to control the pod. It moved easily enough, but it packed a lot of momentum, and off the hover track, he crashed the thing into the remains of Warehouse B and the facility before he reached the door and called Topeka.

  “About friggin’ time, General,” she said as she opened the door.

  Colby didn’t know what he expected based on her somewhat rough and in-your-face language, but whatever that was, she wasn’t it. Petite with long black hair, she was young, possibly not even 50 years old. She looked like a school teacher, maybe, or a programmer. But there was a fire to her that almost danced out of her eyes. This woman meant business.

  “So, what do you got in there that was so damned important?” she asked.

  “Let’s get it inside, and I’ll show you,” he said, eve
r conscious of the teeming plants bent on destruction just on the other side of the building.

  She stepped back, sizing up the pod, then said, “I don’t think so. It ain’t gonna fit. No reason for a cargo pod to come in here, you know. We gotta unload it here.”

  He realized she was right, so he opened the top. Duke immediately jumped out, tail wagging.

  “Shit, a dog? What the hell do you have a dog for?”

  Colby immediately bristled and said, “She saved my ass back on the farm. I wasn’t going to leave her.”

  Topeka shrugged, then said, “Fine, but what else do you got? What’s with the feed cylinders?”

  “I made them into flame throwers. The plants don’t like fire,” he said, feeling proud of his ingenuity.

  She shrugged again, then said, “I hope they work. Let’s get them unloaded.” She grabbed one and tried to lift it, then said, “Holy shit! What’s in them?”

  “You take the boxes, but be careful. They’re bombs. Grenades, more like, and I don’t know how stable they are.”

  “Hell, I didn’t call him here to blow me up,” she muttered as she lifted the first box and took it inside.

  Colby rolled the first flamethrower to the edge of the pod, then with a grunt, lifted it and lowered it to the deck. It was heavy, no lie, and he looked to see if Topeka had seen him lift it. He wasn’t used to anyone giving him orders, and the young woman had a take-charge personality. A show of physical strength was in order, he thought, to reassert his position as a Marine general and in charge. She didn’t seem to notice as she brushed past him to pick up another box.

  He about popped a gut lifting the second flamethrower, but they had the pod unloaded within a couple of minutes. Topeka gave it a hard shove with her leg, and it drifted out of the way.

  “OK,” he said, trying to take charge. “If we let them destroy the cannon, we’re stuck here. So, we have to take the fight to them. Either that, or we retreat and wait for rescue.”

  He didn’t like the second option, but he felt obligated to mention it. She wasn’t a Marine, and he didn’t feel like he could order her into what would probably be a futile fight.

  “If we retreat, Riordan’s a dead man,” she said bitterly. “We can’t move him in the chamber, and if we take him out, he’s a goner. Those fucking plant-things will tear this place down, chamber too. I can’t leave him.”

  Colby felt a rush of respect. She understood the situation, and loyalty was more important than her own safety. He understood the sentiment—he just hadn’t expected to see it in a government civilian.

  “Those flamethrowers,” she said, tilting her chin to point at them. “They gonna work?”

  “They should, at least as long as the pressure stays high enough. The jelly, it’ll stick to anything and burn like Hades’ fire, but I had to use compressed air to load them. Once that runs out, well, we don’t want the fire to back up into the cylinders now, do we.”

  She nodded, then said, “That’d not be a good idea.”

  “But until then, I think they’ll work fine.”

  “Kinda heavy, though. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit on the small side. But, I think I got an idea. Can you wait here?”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “Just wait. Five minutes, tops,” she said before she opened the door, peeked in both directions, then slipped out.

  What the hell? Where’s she going?

  He shook it off and started opening the cases with the ANFO grenades. He was very confident as to the 2.0 versions he’d made. Not only were they closer to foolproof, they should have a much bigger bang.

  When that was finished, he looked around the room. Through a clear window in the back, he could see lights. Walking over, he saw the lights were from displays. This was the control room. There had to be at least internal power still running as five of the displays were active. A red light was flashing on the second display. Colby entered the room for a closer look, and his heart sank when he realized what was on the screen.

  The plant soldiers, much larger than the ones that had attacked his farm, had managed to damage the immensely strong ceramalloy rails of the cannon. The display indicated that the entire cannon was on the verge of failure.

  The outer door opened, and Colby spun around, ready for battle, but it was Topeka sticking in her head.

  “Come take a look and tell me what you think,” she said. “Can we use these for your flame-thrower contraptions?”

  With a last glance at the display screen, he went to the door and looked out. Topeka had rustled up a forklift, one of several that must have been used at the station. Carried in the forks was a personal lift-assist.

  “We had this in the repair shop right here,” she said, pointing to a roll-up door further down the side of the building.

  “That might work,” Colby said, moving to sit in the lift.

  “Have you used one of these?” she asked, blocking his way.

  “Well, no. But how hard—”

  “Doesn’t matter if you can learn to use it. I can, so this is mine. You get the Daihatsu,” she said, pointing to the personal lifting yoke.

  He started to argue, but she was right.

  “The cannon’s about to fail,” he said, changing the subject. “Anything we can do about it?”

  “Shit, I thought it’d hold out longer,” she said, as she dashed back into the control center, Colby on her tail.

  “Well, I guess it’s time,” she said, more to herself, Colby thought, than to him.

  “Time for what?”

  “Time to make me some green mash,” she said as she flowed into the control chair. Her hands flew over the switches as she vocalized some orders that made no sense to him. Several other displays came to life, and on one of the screens, a door opened.

  “Is that a space pod?” Colby asked, despite recognizing it for what it was.

  “Yep. It’s been in the breach and ready for launch since the bastards attacked. We had eight more on deck, but they got themselves destroyed by our friends out there. So, this is it.”

  Colby immediately realized what she was going to do.

  “What about the rail?” he asked, pointing to the monitor with the red flashing light.

  She shrugged and said, “It’ll work or not. But for sure, we’re going to crush some of the fuckers.”

  “And if the damage to the rails is bad enough?”

  “Then this baby’s gonna be smashed all over the landscape,” she said.

  Which doesn’t matter now, does it?

  “Have at it,” he said.

  He watched the countdown, alarms deafening the control room while Topeka overrode each attempted shutdown.

  “Here she goes!” she said as the charge released, sending the pod accelerating down the rail.

  The plant soldiers had been working on the center of the rail, right in front of the control facility. By the short time the pod had reached the plants, it was already at nine kilometers per second. With over 3000 kgs of mass, that was an unstoppable force, and the air above the rail exploded into a green mist.

  “Ooh-rah!” Colby shouted, unable to contain himself as he pounded on Topeka’s back.

  He didn’t even notice that the space pod continued past the damaged area and made it to the ramp at escape velocity. Vasquez’s last pod to go out would deliver its cargo as it was designed to do.

  “I think that’s green ick,” Topeka said, reaching to the screen and touching an out-of-focus green spot that was on the cam lens.

  “And I think you’re right. You exploded the suckers!”

  “Oh, and now I think we might have their attention.”

  Colby looked at the displays. The singular focus of the plant soldiers had been broken. A good number seemed to swing to the west towards the loading ramp. What was more troubling was that some of them had swung towards the facility itself. One started to move toward the building, then others followed.

  “What the hell is that?” Topeka aske
d, pointing at the screen.

  In the foreground, plant-things were heading to the facility, but she was pointing to the background. Colby bent over to get a closer look. The pod had crushed the plants on the rails into mush, but not all of them. Many, probably those on the edges, had simply been torn apart. As Colby watched, the parts, scattered over the landscape, started to twitch. To his utter amazement, a torn leafy branch pulled itself to what had been a central stalk and hugged it. He couldn’t tell for sure with the display’s resolution, but it looked like it melded into the stalk.

  “Oh, hell, they’re reanimating!” Topeka said.

  The branch pulled itself and the stalk to the side where another chunk of stalk lay and pulled it in. After a few moments, that second chunk was absorbed into the first.

  Colby felt a deep misgiving. If they could reanimate, then that changed the rules of the game. He and Topeka had to do something now. If they waited, they’d be in much deeper shit.

  “Get ready,” he said, wishing he’d had time to discuss a plan of action with her first.

  Even with Marines, men and women who put in immense amount of time training in the deadly arts, there should be operations orders and rehearsals. Topeka, who was evidently quite capable at her work, was still a civilian, and the best he could do with her was to simply say “Get ready?”

  He pulled her by the arm to the cases of ANFO grenades. He’d made these to detonate upon impact, so it was simply a matter of throwing them. The flamethrower took a few more minutes to teach her to work it. The air had to be released first, then once the stream of jelly was being shot out, then, and only then, could it be lit off. The flame was a very simple device, the spark caused by touching a naked piece of wire to a tiny fuel cell.

  She assured him she had it as there was a crash against the back of the building. The plant soldiers had reached them.

  Colby rolled the cylinder forward, and Topeka picked it up with her forks. He ran the ignition wire back to her, then slapped the fuel cell to the vertical strut of the cage. Taking a roll of duct tape, the ubiquitous must-have for any shop for the last millennium, he affixed the wand to one of the forks. She’d have to control the direction of the fire with the lift.