by J. A. Scorch
At first, the alien invaders were ruthless. They slaughtered any living creature in their path and didn't stop to take prisoners. They ventured far and wide, seeking out the destruction of humanity at any cost. Even when an army managed a small victory, the Zeal continued to fight until their last soldier fell. But in the last six months, the game changed.
Reports of humans being taken by the aliens spread across the globe. A few soldiers pursued a group of Stiltz as they captured men and women and took them back to their giant constructed towers. Rough estimates for Los Angeles alone put the number of prisoners within the central tower at almost 1000. The UEF couldn't do a thing to help the lost souls, nor would they ever be able to mount any kind of rescue operation.
Mish pulled into the docking bay and lined up the Humvee with its charging station. She grabbed her personal effects from the shared asset and climbed down to the concrete ground.
Teve piled out along with Moreno. "Don't go too far," he said to the member of his fire team still listening. "I'll be over here getting my ass chewed off."
Moreno nodded. Mish continued to look the other way. She needed some space.
Teve swept his eyes around the base and took a moment to collect his thoughts before he reported to the commander of Phoenix station. A slew of activity hit his eyes. Teams of soldiers moved back and forth between makeshift sectors of the underground area. Support columns made from intricate brick patterns were utilized to build temporary walls for areas to sleep, eat, plan, and live in.
Heading for the largest sector reserved for Command, Teve took small steps toward General Miller and his small team of ass kissers. They were scurrying about over the general's every word as if the man's next thought would bring an end to the Zeal.
"Sir, reporting in," Teve said, taking in the balding man's thin mustache.
Miller didn't raise his eyes up from the tablet he tapped away at. "Take a seat, Sergeant."
Teve stared at the mess of stacked foot lockers and old ammunition stores used as furniture.
"Uh, where, sir?"
The general glanced up and eyed the sergeant off with a lowered brow. "So, you're telling me you don't see any spare seats around here?"
"No, sir. I—"
"Funny. I figured you must have thought we had shit to waste in this luxurious base of ours when you came back from a package grab empty handed."
"You don't under—"
"And to top things off, you lost a greenhorn in the process."
Teve went to defend himself, but nothing came out.
"Did I miss anything, Sergeant?"
"No, sir? It was a complete screw-up."
"Drop the fucking attitude. If I wanted your goddamn opinion, I'd ask you to bark it to me. I shouldn't have to remind you how scarce our resources have become. Hell, if it were up to me, we'd nuke every damn one of these cities and start over, but we don't have enough bombs to do the job."
With a beating chest, Teve clenched his fists and let his anger simmer down while Miller continued his rant. It was all he could do to stop himself from punching the short sixty-year-old man in the face.
"Now, if you're done serving me bullshit, there's something we need to discuss."
Teve was ready to leave, with his feet pointing away from the general. "Sir?"
"The greenhorn you lost. He was placed under your command for a reason."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean, out of all the assholes I send out there to hit back at the Zeal, you have the lowest number of losses on record."
The general's words forced Teve to remember the faces of each soldier he had lost. He came close to losing count in his head at one point, but the total number of captured or fallen soldiers under his command sat at thirty-three. The number was a lot to deal with in the space of three years. Now the general decided to tell him this was the best.
"I don't know what to say, sir."
"Don't say anything. It's no compliment. Our numbers, quite frankly, are pathetic. If we keep these loses up, the Zeal will only need to push us over to finish the job. There aren't enough trained personnel left in this area as it is. If we don't find a weak spot in the next year, we might as well turn ourselves in."
Teve sensed his rage boiling again. This time, it wasn't directed at the general. The occupation by the Zeal put a bad taste in his mouth on a good day. Whenever he ventured outside the base and had to see the remains of what was once a thriving civilization and his home, he wanted to yell out at the top of his lungs and kill every last one of the tall mechanical aliens.
Miller stepped closer to Teve and stared up at his face. "Now, I need you to listen. The next lot of words out of my mouth are not to be repeated to anyone other than your fire team."
"Sir?"
Miller leaned in further and lowered his voice. "Private Adams. He was important. And not just important in the sense he was to be treated with extra care. I'm talking top-of-the-food-chain important."
"What do you mean, sir?"
Miller glanced around the room and made sure no one was within earshot of their conversation. "He was the son-in-law of the commandant of the United Earth Forces."
Teve stumbled back a little. "Shit."
"Shit indeed, Sergeant. We haven't reported his death up the chain yet."
"Wait ... why? That's the way it works around here. If you lose a soldier, you report it."
Miller let out a huff with closed eyes. He opened them again and said, "Not when we know where he is and that he is still alive."
Teve felt his heart start to race again. He realized the next words out of the general's mouth would seal his fate.
"We want you and your fire team to go find him."
Chapter Six
Porter's eyes cracked open under a bright radial light. He let out a groan as his mind returned to his head. Sitting up in bed, he had no memory of how he came to be in the unfamiliar room.
"Oh shit," he said as the crash came flooding back. He patted his body with fury, feeling sore spots and a few scratches. Fortunately, he found his limbs and vital pieces intact. He checked his face next and discovered no significant damage other than a few cuts on his forehead sealed with a bonding gel.
"Welcome back," a voice said. Porter turned to find Briggs sitting in a chair. The room appeared to be a standard recovery room on board the Andromeda.
Porter's voice cracked open. "What the hell happened? I thought you pulled that crazy landing off."
"I did," Briggs said with too much confidence. "Just you decided to roll your bird at the last second. It was quite a show. I've never seen anyone flip so many times without dying. Your cabin held up in the fire."
Porter let out a long-winded puff of air as he pressed a hand to his throbbing head. He also sensed a slight pain in his chest. "Are you serious? Wait. How are you not in the same condition?"
Briggs chuckled a little. "Please. I anticipated the roll a mile away. I let out the line to its maximum threshold until I had no choice but to cut the connection."
"I see. Well, you got me home as promised."
"Yeah, you owe me one, not to mention the MAF. They were beyond pissed at the mess we made. I'm surprised they haven't spaced us yet."
Porter shook his head with a smile. "Give them time, Briggs. They're probably thinking up the most embarrassing way to shove us out an airlock."
Briggs snickered again and dropped his feet from Porter's bed to lean in a bit closer. "Glad you're all right, though. I thought I'd lost you for a minute there."
"Apparently not. Don't suppose you know what the damage is? Anything I should be worried about?"
"Nothing severe. Some bruising and a few deep cuts. Doc says you should be up and flying in two days."
"Two days, huh? What do I need to do to score a week off?"
"A week? You'd have to at least crash the Andromeda. Anyway, be happy they still consider you a pilot. Oh, and that headache you've got there."
"What about it?"
&n
bsp; "It's about to get worse."
"What do you mean?"
Briggs stood and stretched out his back for a minute. "I'll show you. Time to rise and shine, Lieutenant."
With another groan, Porter forced himself out of the bed to land on his feet. Seeing the time and date on the wall of the room, he realized he'd been unconscious for about seven hours. He hadn't had such a decent rest since before the Zeal showed up.
"Where are we going?"
"Oh, you'll see. I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me."
Porter threw up his arms in protest and remembered his sore body a second too late. "Dammit," he whispered.
"Let me help."
Briggs dragged him around the ship and away from Medical, keeping one arm around his shoulder for support. Porter brushed him off after a minute or so, not needing the crutch. The two came to a stop in front of a flight board and found no more deliveries scheduled for the pilots.
"What the hell is this?"
"All the deliveries are gone. Wiped from the system."
"Why? Have they said anything?"
"Not a word. After I landed and Command finished beating my ass for scratching their deck, I came up to our ready room and found everything deleted."
Porter's mouth fell open as he shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. Earth needs those deliveries. Without them, they're dead in the water."
"I know. You don't need to tell me. I asked around to figure out if anyone had heard anything from up the chain."
"And?"
"Turns out they're clearing the decks for one of two reasons. Command is either giving up on Earth, or they are preparing to make a push and reclaim the planet's orbit from the Zeal."
Porter's knees buckled. Briggs caught him by the arm. Once he balanced again, a smile stretched across his face.
"What is it?" Briggs asked.
"This has to be the second thing: reclaim the orbit."
"Why? Like I said, only rumors."
"No, you don't understand. About three weeks ago, I noticed a heavy amount of traffic across the network. It hasn't decreased one bit. I figured they were gearing up for a huge resupply, but then I saw something."
"What?"
"Signals from at least six other carriers. New ones to be exact. I thought it was a test or some info on the builds they are doing on Mars."
Briggs let out a long whistle. "Six more carriers. That's what I'm talking about. With the three we have out here on rotation, we should be able to take out those Cyclones."
Porter nodded. "They must be on their way. Why else would they scrap the runs?" He found the nearest bulkhead to lean on and crossed his arms. "Finally, we are going to push those bastards out of Earth's orbit. Then they can send in the troops and kill the rest of them."
Briggs threw out his right hand and gripped Porter's forearm. "This is it," he said.
The two continued to swap hopeful thoughts, each going over the possibilities as they entered their minds. For once, Porter was excited for tomorrow. Yet, in the same thought, he couldn't help but worry about the secrecy Command decided to issue on the matter. He only hoped the discretion was because of a quiet confidence they felt and not one of fear. Only time would tell which direction the MAF would take.
Chapter Seven
Teve shuffled over to his fire team, away from General Miller, and collected them for a debriefing.
"What happened, Sarge?" Moreno asked. "Are we in trouble?"
Without a word, Teve continued to walk past the private and Mish.
"Sergeant?"
Teve raised his brows. "Follow me to the meeting room. We've got some things to discuss."
"Yeah, we do," Mish said. She was still fuming and ready to unload on him. He would let her do so in time, but for now, he had worse things to handle.
The three arrived at a small room at the far end of the base. It was a sealed-off section seldom used for anything other than the occasional UEF meeting.
"Take a seat," he said as they entered the cold room. No one did as they were asked.
"What happened, Sergeant?" Moreno pressed.
"I said take your goddamn seat, Private."
The two subordinates sat down in the front row of the basic setup and faced Teve. Mish kept her eyes elsewhere while the private gave his full attention.
"We'll go through everything soon, not that there's much point."
"What do you mean there's no point?" Mish asked.
Teve could feel the sting in her words.
"Are they relieving you of your command? About time, if you ask me."
"Shut up, Mishina," Moreno said.
"Hey, I don't take orders from you, asshole." She grabbed him by the neck. Teve jumped in and forced them apart. The private did what he could to fend her off.
"Stop it. Mish. Sit back down. Moreno. Cut the shit."
The two eyed each other off as Mish slowly sat back down on her metal chair. Both soldiers crossed their arms and sulked down into their seats.
"To answer your question, no I'm not being relieved of my command."
"Figures," she said under her breath.
Teve ignored the comment and continued. "I've got something else to tell you. It's about Adams."
Mish uncrossed her arms and sat up more. "What about him? Bastard barely saw any action before they got him."
"About that. Apparently, he was more than a greenhorn. He was a VIP placed into my care."
"And how'd that go?" Mish asked, feigning enthusiasm.
"That's the last piece of bullshit out of your mouth, Specialist. Now listen to me for one goddamn minute. This kid was no ordinary soldier. He was the son-in-law of the commandant of the UEF."
Silence filled the room for a moment between the three as the information sank in.
"Holy shit," Mish said. "Are you serious? Command must be pissed at you."
"Pissed at us. Enough so that they want us to go find Adams."
The smile on her face melted. "Sorry, what?"
"You heard me. They want him found and returned. Command didn't trust me enough despite having the lowest loss rate of any sergeant here."
Mish's mouth hung open. "What are you saying?"
"They bugged him. We know where to find him. He's still alive. His heart is still beating in the middle of the goddamn Zeal fortress."
"Wait a minute. Is this some elaborate way to punish us? I mean how are we even going to sneak past the thousands of Stiltz and drones. We won't get within a mile of the place."
"I thought the same thing, but General Miller doesn't care."
"Typical bullshit," Moreno muttered. "Why don't they send in a whole platoon?"
"It's not that simple. The Zeal might be arrogant enough to leave us alive and close to their bases, but their structures are nothing short of complicated. According to Miller, no one can enter one unless they are a Zeal. Something inside their suits or their bodies allows them to talk to the base."
"So how the hell are we supposed to retrieve Adams if we can't access the base without dying?" Mish asked.
Teve leaned down on the table and tapped it. "There's one idea the general suggested, but it's a touch on the crazy side. To do this right, to have any hope of pulling this stupid plan off, we are going to have to capture a Zeal soldier alive."
Mish and Moreno fell silent. No one had anything witty or defiant to say.
Chapter Eight
Two days later, Porter hit the gym to rebuild his fitness. The small area contained equipment built into the walls of the ship, including the weights. Every single object on board the Andromeda was bolted down in some capacity. The crew couldn't risk having dangerous items floating freely around should the onboard electrodynamic gravity generators stop functioning.
The only low-g sections of the ship were the flight decks. As a Stalker touched down on one of the ship's many landing areas, powerful magnets slowly ramped up to hold the fighter in place, allowing the Andromeda to make a tactical withdrawal. When the battl
e carrier wasn't risking life and limb close to the Zeal, personnel would use the area for low-gravity recreation.
Porter started a workout on his own, performing weaker than a newborn after only a few days of moderate activity. The doctors sped up his recovery with a few pills a day for pain relief and general healing. His young body did the rest.
At twenty-eight, the Lieutenant was a career man who had flown several thousand hours of combat drills before the Zeal showed up in the solar system demanding Earth and Mars hand over their planets. Earth fell in a short span of time due to the lack of unity the various nations of the world suffered from. The UEF formed as a result and came about far too late in the game to make a difference.
Mars, however, had been born into the system as a single-serving planet. The civilization contained no countries or borders, earning its prosperity over the last 100 years. Out of a fear of invasion from Earth, the red planet had no choice but to build up a large enough, unified fleet to defend itself. When the Zeal attacked, the MAF pushed the invading species back until they decided to put their entire focus on the weaker power: Earth. The blue globe fell to overwhelming forces and had no option but to fall back into the shadows while the Zeal seized control.
It killed the average Martian soldier to let the invaders take the sister planet. Many emigrated from the old world, and all shared a family line dating back through history. Porter himself, was an Earther. Born in the United States of America, he moved to Mars at the age of eighteen without much thought and joined the MAF.
"How's the body holding up?" Lieutenant Nicole "Tazz" Cannon asked.
Porter glanced at the younger pilot and gave her a smile. "About as reliable as ever. Should be back out in the field any day now."
"Really? I'm surprised they haven't shipped you back to Mars to do milk runs. Maybe I should botch a few landings. Might do wonders for my career."
