Invasion (Blood on the Stars Book 9)

by Jay Allan

  “We have been blind, led astray, lost our way as a people. We have accepted platitudes and oft-repeated reminders of freedom and justice that were as much fiction as reality. Our society has gone on about its business, normal citizens, engaged in their trades, looking to their elected government for leadership and their military for protection. They received neither, and now all look into the abyss, waiting only for the final push before falling forever into the darkness.”

  Barron could see Atara, standing just to his side, as though she was considering whether to try and interrupt him. But, she just stayed where she was, watching silently.

  “That all ends. Now! This standoff is over. This instant! To the crews of the orbital defenses, you have ten minutes to yield, to power down your weapons and join with me, with the thousands of spacers following me. You will cease to defend a corrupt Senate, one that looks only to its own needs and wants, and has long forgotten its duty to the people. You will remember your own obligation to the people, and you will align with the forces under my command. Or I will destroy you. There is no question that my fleet can overwhelm the Megaran Planetary defenses. All you can accomplish with resistance, besides your own deaths, is to cause losses to the force that will ultimately face the invading Hegemony.”

  He stood where he was, his hands clenched into tight fists. “Marines and other ground forces in and around Troyus City…I urge you to stand up, side with the units surrounding the Senate Compound, surge forth with justice in your battle cries, and, if need be, kill any who stand in your way. The time for patience is gone. The time for understanding is long past. The time for half measures is behind us. Doom approaches us all, and our conflicts with each other must end now, in one last torrent of blood if need be.”

  He sucked in a deep breath. He was shaking, and he could feel his heart pounding, but he pushed forward, willing himself to continue. “To the Senate, to that house so tainted by corruption and foulness, I offer you but one chance. Senators who are not blackened by corruption, who are not part of the terrible disaster which has struck our nation, those who have tried to resist such travesties, or even those whose complicity was born of stupidity or fear, and not dishonesty…you have this one last chance to act with honor, to move against those who have forever blackened the name of your institution. Rise up now, and take control of the Senate Hall, apprehend those who have led you to darkness, and open your gates to the Marines outside. Yield now, and ask the people for their forgiveness…or I swear on my honor, and on the spirit of my famous grandfather…I will leave you all charred dust in the blasted remains of the Senate Hall.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Occupation Headquarters

  Port Royal City

  Planet Dannith, Ventica III

  Year 317 AC

  “I want all patrols doubled in size immediately, Kiloron, and all high value convoys are to escorted by armored detachments.” Develia stood next to the conference table she’d been using as a desk. She was too tense to sit, too angry about the latest in what seemed like an unending series of devastating guerilla attacks. Her forces occupied the entire planet, and she had garrisons in every city, maintaining tight control. But any force that set foot into the wilder areas of the planet was at great risk.

  “Yes, Commander.” The Kriegeri was hesitant. The Hegemony armed forces generally adhered to military ranks and hierarchy, but it was still difficult for one not of Master rank to disagree with one who was.

  “Speak, Kiloron. I seek your honest commentary.” Develia had considerable military experience of her own, but the kiloron was a veteran of many battles. There was no question, the struggle to pacify what appeared to be an insignificant frontier world appeared to be turning into a hard fight, and she was ready to listen to any point of view. Arrogance sometimes sapped the strength of Hegemony Masters, especially when dealing with Inferiors, but Develia was cool and rational, and far more interested in success than in feeding her ego. It the Kriegeri veteran could aid her in bringing the situation under control, she was more than willing to listen.

  “Commander…Master…” The officer was a tough as nails sort, but he was still edgy in front of her. She agreed completely with the genetic ranking system, of course, but she wondered at the arbitrary level that signified Master status, and all the benefits that accrued to it. The best should rule, she agreed completely with that, but did the categorization that dominated Hegemony society achieve that, or did it just create another aristocracy, without regard for the achievements and accomplishments of those granted power and privilege. Genetic strength was an inarguable advantage, but how did training and experience compare to it? Did the privilege that accrued automatically to those of high ranking, unintentionally divert many of the best from reaching their potential, while those branded as Inferiors were forced to strive to attain lives of distinction and comfort? She knew she tread close to impermissible thoughts with that line of questioning, and she kept it to herself. But, the questions lingered, nevertheless.

  “Continue, Kiloron.”

  “Yes, Commander. As you know…much of our combat strength was withdrawn and taken out of the system, to support the invasions of the next enemy planets. The force we have is barely sufficient for garrison duty, and…” Another nervous pause. “…I submit to you that what we have before us is far greater than simply maintaining control over a partially-pacified population. We are not facing mere rebels, a few angry citizens taking to the rural regions and attacking supply convoys. These are trained and veteran soldiers, Master Develia…I am sure of it. The lack of expected resistance to the initial invasion resulted in the accelerated redeployment of forces back off-world, but perhaps this was a significant error. It may be that we were allowed to land against minimal defenses for a reason, to encourage us to reduce our garrisons, and so the enemy could withdraw their frontline units largely intact to prepared positions, to continue a long-term campaign of disruption and terroristic attacks.” The officer paused. “If we increase the escort forces as you command, the cities themselves will be undermanned. We may open the door for the enemy to move on higher value targets.”

  Develia looked at the veteran Kriegeri, and at the bandage around the man’s forehead, still soaked through a bit in the center with blood. He wasn’t talking about theory or his analysis from maps, nor with the arrogance she’d heard from so many of her Master comrades, pontificating on one topic or another. He was talking about what he had experienced firsthand. Develia knew better than to discount the words of a veteran of twenty battles simply because he was Kriegeri and not a Master.

  She stood silent for a moment, her eyes cast down on the table. She had to do something. She hadn’t projected the loss rates in personnel and material forward yet, at least not with any sense of accuracy, but she knew it would be sobering when she did. Such a calculation was impossible without knowing more about the size of the enemy forces. Her people had gone through the planet’s records—with the full assistance of Administrator Cantor—but the military data had all been destroyed. Every record, every copy of an order of battle or supply manifest. Whoever was in command of the defense forces knew what he was doing. He hadn’t left a clue, not a scrap of data useful in hunting down the defenders turned guerillas. She didn’t know if she was facing a few hundred fighters, or a few thousand.

  Or more…

  And, more was starting to look like a distinct possibility.

  She doubted Cantor would be able to enlighten her. He was proving to be even more useless than she’d imagined. Though, I think it is time for the Administrator to experience some more aggressive interrogation techniques. She didn’t have much respect for the whiny politician, and she doubted it would take much to be sure he had told her all her knew.

  She turned toward one of the other officers standing against the wall. “Hectoron…Administrator Cantor is to be brought to interrogation room four.”

  “Yes, Commander.” The woman nodded her head forward for a few seconds, the
n she turned and marched out of the room.

  Develia reached down to the desk and flipped on the comm.

  “Yes, Commander?” A voice came through the speaker before she even spoke.

  “I want a level two interrogation team in room four in ten minutes, Decaron.”

  “Yes, Commander. At once.”

  She turned her body halfway around and dropped down into one of the chairs. She wasn’t bloodthirsty by nature. She wasn’t even entirely comfortable with the Hegemony’s policy of forcibly absorbing all human societies into its own. But, she had always done her duty, and in the ultimate calculation, she was a loyal Hegemony officer and a Master.

  I will tame this planet, whatever it takes. She hoped, for their sake, the residents of Dannith would help her hunt down the insurgents…because if the attacks continued, it was they who were going to pay the highest price.

  * * *

  The line of Marines moved forward swiftly, crouched low, using the cover of the growing darkness for cover. Luther Holcott hustled alongside the row of advancing figures, pushing himself, trying to keep up as quick a pace as quick as he could. He appreciated the usefulness of the dusk fading into night, but there were a hundred other ways for the enemy to detect his people…infrared, motion sensors, even preplaced laser markers. He’d been a veteran for too long to underestimate the Hegemony forces…their ability or their technology. Speed was still his greatest asset. His people had been digging tunnels for weeks now, boring through the solid rock of Dannith’s crust…creating avenues to move his forces around with some protection against enemy scanning capability. It was far from a perfect system. Kriegeri attack teams had found one of the tunnels, and they blew it open, trapping almost one hundred fifty of his Marines down there before they swarmed in themselves and killed them all.

  Holcott had tried to imagine the scene down in the confines of that tunnel, a hundred fifty Marines fighting for their lives against probably twice as many Kriegeri. The Hegemony forces, bred for combat roles and enhanced with extensive robotic implants, were stronger than his own people. That had been a bitter pill for a veteran Marine to swallow, but Luther Holcott had never believed in self-delusion. Still, he knew how a hundred fifty trapped Marines could fight, and he suspected even the elite Hegemony soldiers had paid a heavy price on that operation. His people had been wiped out, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that they’d sold their lives dearly. He was as sure of that as he had ever been of anything.

  He’d heeded the pleas of his officers and remained in the hidden HQ bunker during the most recent operations, but the current attack was the biggest his people had attempted, with over one thousand Marines involved, striking not at convoys this time, but at power generation and transmission facilities, over a dozen in total. He’ refrained from such targets before, both because they were heavily defended, and because they would hit the populations as well as the occupiers. But, the enemy had pulled strength from its fixed garrisons to increase its forces in the field hunting his people. That put a time limit on his guerilla campaign. Sooner or later, the enemy would discover his strongpoints, and one group at a time, they would find and destroy his units. He’d known from the beginning that the guerilla campaign could only last so long, that if the enemy wanted to crush it badly enough, and they deployed the manpower and tech assets to do it, they could eventually eliminate all resistance. Steve Blanth had known that as well.

  Holcott hoped he’d run things the way Blanth would have wanted. He liked to think he’d done a job that would have made his lost commander proud. He credited what success his people had achieved to Blanth’s planning, and even as he’d made the decision to expand the types of targets his people went after, he was sure the colonel would have done the same.

  Time was ticking away, and the enemy had left vital installations inadequately defended. He’d been focused mostly on extending the time his resistance could last, but this was an opportunity to do some real damage, to hurt any chances the enemy might have to use Dannith as a base to support their invasion, or even to restore the planet to some semblance of a new normalcy, as one of their own worlds.

  He hated to think of Confederation citizens adapting to a place in such an alien society, but as much as a fighter’s blood had always flowed in his veins, he knew some people lacked the strength to resist, perhaps most people.

  Holcott knew two things, himself. First, he would do everything he could to interfere, to push off the day that Dannith’s people woke up accustomed to living under the Hegemony.

  Second…he would be dead in the field, with every one of his Marines, before that day did come.

  * * *

  The sound of a massive explosion shook the building, and even the Kriegeri guards, normally completely cold and unemotional, ducked down for a second, trying to cover themselves. The soldiers recovered almost immediately from their surprise, and they resumed their posts, but Walter Cantor had ducked below the table, and he remained where he was, cowering, until Develia called to him.

  “Walter…it is over. It was some distance from here.” She knew exactly where the sounds had come from. She’d had reports of the guerillas attacking the main power plant serving Port Royal City. No, to be entirely accurate, she had dispatches of rebel activity all over the planet, targeting every manner of infrastructure installation. Her people were doing what they could, but the surprise was almost total, and she knew, if luck went against her, half the planet might be plunged into darkness as the electricity stopped flowing.

  As it already had in her headquarters.

  The room was shadowy, dusklike. The light was still from outside coming through the windows, but the overhead lamps had gone dark. From what she could quickly assess, everything but the emergency power was off. Whether that was permanent, or simply a short-term result of the explosion, she didn’t know yet.

  The rebels had upped their game, she realized that at once. They’d focused on targeting Hegemony supplies and isolated military units, but now, it appeared they’d shed their unwillingness to cause damage to the planet and its inhabitants, as long as they also struck at the occupiers.

  She shook her head and put her hands to her forehead, massaging her temples for a moment. It wasn’t something she’d have done in front of an important prisoner, but Cantor was such a worthless Inferior, she really didn’t care anymore what he saw or thought. She’d continue to use him for what little he was worth—he’d given her decent intel on likely troublemakers among the population, as well as leads on family members of some of the unaccounted for personnel she suspected were serving with the resistance fighters—but she didn’t need to manage him with any great care. Just the hint of physical coercion was enough to shatter any barriers the Confederation politicians tried to throw up. She’d seen mutated Defekts that put Cantor to shame, and she wondered how many of his types infested the Rim.

  She almost went to the comm and called in for a report, but she knew it would come as soon as the data was secure. She had only one real question, and the power outage suggested the answer would not be to her liking. Had the rebels managed to severely damage the capital’s primary power plant? Or had they just cut a line or a routing station, something her people could quickly repair?

  “Walter…get up.” She didn’t even try to hide the impatience in her voice. “It’s over…and it was kilometers away.” If the rebels had hit the power plant, they’d done so in a controlled manner at least. The explosions were all conventional ones, and it wouldn’t have taken more than a few engineers added to the strike team to convert the whole thing into an atomic explosion.

  They’re not ready to destroy Port Royal City…not yet. Will they be when they’re more desperate, when we’ve hunted them down and driven them from their refuges?

  Or, will they force me to do it?

  Develia’s orders were clear. For all intents and purposes, Dannith was now a Hegemony world, and she was to treat it as such. Her primary goal was to complete the indoctrination of
the people, to implement genetic testing as soon as possible, and to prepare the planet and what remained of its orbital infrastructure to serve as a long-term base for the absorption of the Rim.

  That was beginning to look like a tall order, and her initial confidence had begun to fade. Despite her primary directives, she did have some latitude. She was to take all reasonable measures to integrate Dannith…but if the planet proved impossible to tame, if the occupation absorbed too many resources for too long, it was considered expendable. If Dannith couldn’t be the first world successfully integrated into the Hegemony, perhaps it could serve as an example to the others. She didn’t like the idea of rounding up citizens wholesale and executing them…or even less, withdrawing her forces and glassing the place from orbit. But, she would do what she had to do.

  What they make me do…

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  CFS Dauntless

  2,000,000 Kilometers from Planet Megara

  Olyus System

  Year 317 AC

  Barron stood next to his chair. He was determined, and he could feel his will inside him, like a block of solid granite. His duty drove him, his devotion to the ideals of the Confederation, his anger and rage at the death of comrades, lost because the Senate had allowed enemy agents to infiltrate, because their corruption and lust for power had made them vulnerable to Sector Nine.

  But, mostly, it was grief, pain he felt at what he was sure was Andi’s death. Their relationship had been an erratic one, their lives simply not compatible for anything other than periodic trysts and stolen time together. He’d loved her almost since he’d first met her, and only now that she was gone, did he realize just how much she’d truly meant to him.