And yet the mere act of safeguarding our position may provoke attack.
Look, I see your point. But two hundred years of freedom and isolation, during which we can build up an impregnable position and an unbeatable technological lead, is worth almost anything. A Grand Alliance, on the other hand, will invite attack. The Tokomak and their allies/subordinates will see it as a threat and rightly so. They didn't take us seriously, fifty years ago, because we were a microstate in their eyes. Will that be true of the Grand Alliance?
-Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).
“The shuttle is on the way, Captain,” Williams said.
Elton nodded, trying to look calm and composed. He’d been taught to take decisive action, if a crisis exploded while he was in the hot seat, but he’d never been prepared for a situation where he didn't have the slightest idea what was actually going on. He knew the embassy was under attack, he knew the local government was probably aiding and abetting the attack, yet ... why? There was no data. No one was answering his calls. The only thing he could do was try to withdraw the ambassador and the rest of the embassy staff before it was too late, if he could.
And yet, sending a shuttle into their atmosphere without permission is an act of war, he thought, grimly. Is that what they want? To provoke an act of war?
His gaze slipped to the tactical display. Odyssey’s shields were up, ready to protect her; Odyssey’s weapons were charged, ready to return fire. And yet, he had no illusions about their ability to survive if the orbital weapons platforms opened fire. The freighters had even less hope than his ship. They’d be vaporised within microseconds. He contemplated, briefly, evacuating them before deciding it was pointless. The entire convoy was at risk.
“Mr. Callaway,” he said. “Has anything transited the gravity points?”
“Not since the last update, sir,” Callaway said. “But we are picking up signs that cloaked ships are moving closer to the planet.”
As if they needed them, Elton thought.
“Keep me updated,” he ordered. “Mr. Biscoe?”
“All decks are ready, Captain,” Biscoe said.
Elton nodded, curtly. There was nothing they could do, but wait - and hope that the shuttle got into position before it was too late. The entire planetary defence grid was slowly coming online, PDFs powering up their heavy weapons and force shields as they swept low orbit for targets. Elton had to admit, reluctantly, that the Harmonies definitely hadn't skimped on their defences. Picking them apart, if he had to engage the planet, would be costly as hell.
We probably couldn't do a lot of damage to the planet before they blew us into atoms, he thought, grimly. Not unless we set out to slaughter the population ...
“Captain,” Williams said. “They just sent us a message, text-only. We are ordered to withdraw the shuttle at once.”
Biscoe coughed. “They didn't even add an or else?”
“I think that was implied,” Elton said. He forced himself to think. The shuttle wasn't trying to hide. It was barely even shielded. He had no doubt the defenders could blow the tiny craft out of the air in seconds. But ... the shuttle was also expendable. “Keep the shuttle on its present course.”
“Aye, Captain,” Williams said. “Time to target - two minutes, forty seconds.”
Elton glanced at Biscoe. “Begin evacuation as soon as the datalink is established,” he ordered. “And don’t stop for anything.”
“Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.
Was that a hint of respect in his voice? Elton wasn't sure. Hoshiko Sashimi Stuart would probably have blasted her way out by now, although Elton rather suspected that even the famed maverick would have hesitated when confronted by so much firepower. His best-case estimates suggested that Odyssey would last around five minutes, if she didn't have to worry about covering the freighters. He had a nasty feeling that that was ludicrously optimistic.
“They’re repeating the demand,” Williams warned.
“Keep the shuttle on course,” Elton ordered.
And pray, he added, silently.
***
Levi had seen horror. She'd seen good men and women injured or killed on a dozen battlefields, she’d seen civilians - caught up in war - brutally abused or raped by enemy soldiers; she’d even helped recover and bury bodies after countless engagements with various enemy forces. But she’d never watched dozens - perhaps hundreds - of bodies being ripped to shreds by plasma fire. The alien protesters never stood a chance.
She gritted her teeth, silently grateful for her nose protectors as the plasma bolts burned through their bodies. The stench was horrifying. They didn't wear combat armour, they didn't even wear basic protections ... nothing that could stop the superhot plasma tearing through their bodies like machine gun fire. The shock alone would kill dozens, she thought, even if they hadn't been critically wounded. For once, the ones at the rear were just as vulnerable as the ones at the front. There just weren't enough bodies between them and the plasma fire.
“Dear God,” Wahid breathed.
Levi swallowed, hard, as time itself seemed to slow down. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of protesters had forced their way into the building, but - just for a second - things had slowed down. The protesters had stopped trying to force their way into the panic room, although she was uneasily aware that they were hacking away at the rest of the building. It was shaking so alarmingly that she was starting to wonder if they were tearing down the supporting walls ...
A low thump echoed through the build. Pieces of plaster - and something- started to drop from the ceiling.
“We can't stay here,” she snapped. The panic room was meant to be safe, but she wasn't prepared to gamble on it. They had to get the staff out before the entire place collapsed around their ears. “Stewart, you and your squad secure the corridor; Wahid and I will get the staff out and on their way.”
“Gotcha,” Stewart said. “Weapons free?”
Levi shuddered, inwardly. “Weapons free.”
She kept her face expressionless as she sent a message to the ambassador, hoping the older woman could open the door without trouble. The civilians were probably panicking. No doubt they’d trusted Galactic Law to protect them. They’d be shocked beyond measure when they saw the burned and broken bodies ... she shook her head, in annoyance. There would be an inquest, at the very least, when they got home ... if they got home. She had no illusions about just how long they’d last if they failed to get back to the ship. The crowds would hunt the humans down and kill them.
The door clicked open. “Get out,” she snapped. The ambassadorial staff were cowering, as if they were reluctant to leave their safe space. She didn't blame them, but it wouldn’t remain safe very long. “Follow me if you want to live!”
“Very droll, LT,” Wahid whispered.
Levi barely heard him as she shepherded the last of the staffers out of the panic room, then set the terminals to self-destruct. Everything they’d collected would be backed up on the ship, she hoped. In any case, she didn't have time to carry it out. They’d have to make sure that everything they couldn't take with them was destroyed too. She didn't think the staff had brought anything really advanced down to the surface, but it was better to be sure. A lone eReader, crammed with textbooks or even fiction, would give the aliens all kinds of insights into humanity. God alone knew what would flower from that.
“I’ve established a direct link to a low-orbit drone,” Stewart said. “There are more protesters on the way, but the rear of the embassy is clear for the moment.”
“Understood,” Levi said. The protest - and the riot - had been planned. She was sure of that, if nothing else. But ... leaving the rear open was sheer carelessness. Unless, of course, the planners had deliberately left the way open to lure her and her charges into the open air. “The shuttle?”
“Still a minute out,” Stewart said.
Levi nodded. “Start moving the evacuees towards the rear,” she ordered. She couldn't see any other wa
y out. Either the shuttle got into position or they were run down and brutally slaughtered. “Now.”
“Aye, LT,” Stewart said.
***
Rebecca choked. The air stank of burning flesh, of horrors beyond her imagination. She’d thought she’d seen violence - in a VR sim, if nothing else - but this was real. The embassy had changed, warped overnight into a hellish nightmare. She had to fight to breathe as she stumbled down the corridor, choking on the smoke in the air. There was no way she could look at the bodies on the ground.
“They’ve set fire to the building,” someone shouted. “Fire!”
“Stay in line,” the marine thundered. “Don’t panic!”
I’m trying, Rebecca thought.
She bent over, vaguely remembering that smoke rose towards the ceiling. It was getting warmer ... or was it her imagination? In truth, she wasn't sure if she was imagining the heat or not. The shouts and screaming echoing down the corridor chilled her to the bone. Her implants kept flashing up incomprehensible alerts, messages she couldn't read. She wanted to contact the ship and demand immediate evacuation, but she’d been locked out of the main communications network. Desperately, she hoped that wasn't a sign that the communications network itself was gone.
The ship acts as the exchange hub, she reminded herself. The briefing had made it clear that they couldn't rely on the local datanet for secure messages. They’d have told us if she was gone, wouldn't they?
The building shook, so violently that she lost her footing and fell. A strong hand caught her arm, a second before she would have hit the floor. She looked up to see a grim-faced marine, staring down at her. Rebecca nodded her thanks as she regained her footing, then started to stumble onwards down the corridor. It seemed never-ending, as if they had died and gone to hell. There was no escape ...
Another quiver ran through the building, followed by another. She fought down the urge to whimper as they hurried down the stairs, then stopped as she heard gunshots somewhere ahead of them. The marines hissed at them to keep moving, pushing them onwards past a pair of alien bodies. Rebecca glanced at one of them, then had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up. The plasma burst had burned a hole right through his chest, leaving a black-edged hole ... she hoped, suddenly, that it had proved fatal. She doubted any regenerator kit could save someone after they’d been hit so badly.
She tasted fresh air as the marines kicked down the door leading to the rear garden. She’d admired it, once upon a time, even though it was as thoroughly bugged as the rest of the complex. The understated elegance had been quite relaxing, while she'd been waiting for more substantive talks to take place. Had it really only been two weeks ago? She felt as if she’d been trapped in hell for years.
“They're coming around the side,” a voice snapped. “Move into the garden!”
Rebecca turned her head to look at the embassy. Smoke was billowing out of a dozen windows, flames dancing in and out of visibility ... she’d disliked the building, but she still hated to watch it burn. The alien staff had insisted that it was older than Jesus, literally. She had no reason to doubt them. And yet ... she sucked in a breath as a mob of howling fanatics appeared at the side, running towards the fleeing humans. The marines opened fire a second later, blowing them apart ...
A hand caught her shoulder. “Move,” a marine snapped. “They’ll catch you if you stay still.”
Somehow, Rebecca forced herself to keep moving.
***
Stupid civilians, Levi thought, as she blasted down two more aliens. Why can't they just do as they’re told?
She pushed the thought out of her head and concentrated on keeping the evacuees moving away from the burning embassy. The orbital drone was sending a constant series of updates, warning her that thousands upon thousands of protesters were heading straight towards her, even though hundreds - perhaps more - had already been killed. Didn’t they know the ROE were no longer in effect? Did they want to die?
Maybe they just know they’ll be shot for treason if they don’t charge us, she thought, remembering a deployment in the former Middle East. The poor bastards she’d fought there had feared their commanders more than the marines. They’d been certain they’d be shot in the back if they failed to keep moving. And they’re probably right. There’s no privacy here at all.
A drone - not one of hers - floated over the remaining wall, sensors probing the garden. She blasted it out of the air automatically, hoping she hadn't just caused another diplomatic incident. At this rate, her court martial was going to bog down in arguments over just which capital charge was going to head the bill. God alone knew how it was going to end up - she didn't think she'd done anything a board could question, but there was always some REMF who thought he knew better than the woman on the spot ...
Not that it matters, she thought, checking her implants one last time. If they don’t get us out of here in the next couple of minutes, we’re as doomed as the dodo.
***
Lieutenant George Bone had been fascinated by teleportation from the day he’d first entered GalTech University and started studying alien and alien-derived technology. The teleport was a remarkable invention, even though it had odd limitations that had never been truly understood, let alone circumvented. Jokes about teleportation duplicates aside, no one had actually managed to make a duplicate ... almost as if, a number of scientists had noted, there was something about a living being that was beyond duplication. A number of them had even embraced religion because of it.
His fingers flew over the console as he tried to establish a matter stream, followed by a teleport lock. The Tokomak had designed the teleport systems carefully, building so many safeguards into their teleporters that some humans had remarked that it was a surprise they actually managed to teleport anyone. Humanity had kept most of the safeguards, after discovering just how much could actually go wrong. A shift in the matter stream would kill anyone unlucky enough to be teleporting at the time.
And we have to establish a link through the shuttle, he thought, sourly. The craft has to boost the signal.
He gritted his teeth, cursing as a series of alerts popped up, each one warning of imminent disaster. The Harmonies hadn't set up a teleport jammer, thankfully, but there were so many stray signals in their city that they barely needed to bother. George compensated for each of them, silently grateful for the RIs backing him up. They lacked the finesse of a full AI - unless one of them had grown into sentience and was keeping it quiet - but they could keep the signal intact. He just hoped they could hold it in place long enough.
The intercom bleeped. “Mr. Bone,” the XO said. He sounded as if he was frantic and trying to hide it. “Do you have a lock?”
“I think so, sir,” George said. “I don’t think we’re going to get anything better, not with all the haze down there.”
“Then bring them up,” the XO ordered. “Now.”
“Aye, sir,” George said.
He ran his hand down the panel, authorising the teleport. It wasn't going to be easy. Too many people were running around, probably firing weapons. They’d been warned to stand still and take their fingers off the triggers, but ... he knew better than to think that was possible. The folks on the ground were in deep shit.
“Teleport locks established,” he said. They weren't perfect, but he didn't think there was any way to harden them. “Teleporting now ...”
A low hum echoed through the cargo teleporter as it came to life. It was taking longer than normal ... he'd expected that, he reminded himself. Using a shuttle as a relay station would add seconds to the teleport. He’d just have to hope the integrity of the matter stream remained intact. If it didn't ....
Twenty-five people shimmered into view. George cursed under his breath, checking and rechecking his equipment. He’d had thirty-one locks, hadn't he? Two more materialised a second later, followed by a third ... three people were missing. Their matter streams had desynchronised during teleport. They were gone.
; He swallowed, hard. “Commander,” he said. “I have twenty-eight people here. The remaining three didn't make it.”
There was a long pause. “Understood,” the XO said, finally. “Put quarantine procedures into place. Marines are on their way.”
George nodded. There would be time to mourn later.
“Aye, sir.”
***
Three dead, Elton thought. He knew he should be counting his blessings, but he still felt wretched. Three dead ...
“Captain,” Williams said. “They just blew the shuttle out of the air.”
“Noted,” Elton said. “Tactical?”
“No change,” Callaway said. He nodded towards the hulking icons, orbiting menacingly over the planet. “It’s like they’re ignoring us.”
“They know where we are,” Biscoe said, harshly. “They could hit us at any moment.”
“Get the ambassador and her staff through security screening as quickly as possible,” Elton said. There was no way to know if the aliens had taken the opportunity to plant more nanotech on the evacuees. The teleport crews hadn't had time to run a proper scan. “And see if they have any insights they can offer.”
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 17
