Precursor Revenants (The Precursor Series Book 1)

by Cain Hopwood

  They were done well before ten. They’d determined that the pistol had three modes; a spray mode, a burst mode and a full auto mode. As they’d discovered with the first shot, the spray mode seemed to be the default. Handy in a quick draw situation, thought Jon.

  The burst mode though had them puzzled. It shot the same number of needles, but sent them all down the exact same trajectory. The pistol even compensated for shake, delivering the sequence of needles all to within a millimeter of each other.

  As much as he wanted to stay and play with the pistol, Jon had a lot of planning to do, and no idea when the colonel would need the results. But, as he was preparing to disconnect the pistol from the mount, he noticed Pascale looking at his equipment with a deeply furrowed brow.

  He looked over the engineer’s shoulder. Pascale had a schematic of the pistol up on a display. “What’s up?”

  It took several seconds before he answered. “This thing is puzzling. The ammunition block can be swapped out when it’s gone, and I can see that the main energy source is this node here.” He pointed at a large glowing block in the body of the pistol. “But it’s not replaceable, and there’s no connection I can see to charge it.”

  Jon shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll work it out. All I care about is that you’ll tell me how much energy it can deliver on target. And I need the specifications on what a rifle version of that pistol can do.”

  “Sure, I’ll run the numbers once I’m back at the shop.”

  “Try to guess what kind of conventional weapons it would equate to. We’ll need to look at the body armor options.”

  The engineer nodded. Jon pocketed the pistol and pushed the heavy range door open, leaving Pascale to his thoughts. He’d have his specs before long, and until then he had plenty of work, and thinking, to do.

  — 6 —

  Colonel Whitfield was fully aware that he was riding a tiger, though you’d never have known it by looking at him. Years of leading combat troops into fluid situations had taught him the value appearing confident. And those years of practice were paying off now.

  For a moment, he wished he was back in Katona’s stinking hot room with its impossible view. At least there he could think in purely tactical terms. But since the moment he’d landed at Trenton, he’d been hustled from one place to the next. First, he’d been subjected to a debrief by a shadowy group tasked with determining whether he was still himself or not. Then he had a frenzy of meetings with an array of generals, senators and CEO’s. And shortly, he’d be talking to the joint chiefs of staff. That would be a career first.

  He’d gone into orbit resigned that it would be the last act of his life. It was impossible to predict what would happen, but he expected to be killed, captured, dissected, or something equally unspeakable. Instead, he’d returned. And what’s more, he’d come back realizing how pitifully defenseless the earth was against the Galactics.

  Katona had made it crystal clear how little time the Galactics had to waste. There would only be one chance to forge an alliance. The colonel was deathly afraid that some general, or politician, would try to take control of the situation then stall the Galactics, or bargain with them. Or worse, assign the whole thing to a group of ass covering diplomats.

  The only way of avoiding that nightmare scenario, would be to assume all the risk himself, and present them with a solution on a plate. He also had to make any alternative look like political suicide.

  All this ran through his head as he stood stock still in the ante room of the tank, the ultra secure meeting room where the joint chiefs of staff met. Anyone else would have paced back and forth, but he’d long trained himself out of that particular pleasure. The appearance of complete confidence was key.

  A civilian secretary poked her head out of the door and motioned him forward. “The chiefs will see you now colonel.”

  He followed her in. But before he even had a chance to look for a space at the table the chairman spoke. “Colonel Whitfield, there’s no need to take a seat. I don’t imagine this will be a long meeting for you.”

  The colonel’s heart skipped a beat, he had even less time than he’d thought. He had to get them on the back foot. “I couldn’t agree more sir. We have little time indeed, and I have much to do.”

  This appeared to have the desired effect. The chairman straightened. “Explain yourself colonel.”

  “Sir, these Galactics are on a very tight schedule, and they have a singular mission here. They are offering some very interesting incentives. But if we don’t co-operate, they are capable of achieving the same result with coercion.”

  “You mean like they did with the Hazuka.”

  “Exactly sir.”

  “What is your point colonel?”

  “My point sir, is that we are now in the same position that the Hazuka management were. The Galactics are negotiating with us, asking for a service in exchange for technology. But if things stall, they will switch tactics in a heartbeat. However, instead of destroying shuttles we could be talking cities.”

  “Are they capable of destroying a city?”

  “Without a doubt. That warship I was taken aboard was huge, at least twice the length of a carrier, and bristling with armament.”

  The chairman rubbed his chin. “Well colonel, this group was going to thank you and relieve you. But it sounds like you have a plan. Do you?”

  “Already underway sir.”

  General Birkenhof, the commandant of the marine corps and Whitfield’s ultimate superior, butted in. “You haven’t cleared anything with me colonel.”

  The colonel softened his tone. “Sir, there was no time. When I realized that the moment we appeared indecisive the Galactics would change tactics, I committed us.”

  The commandant pointed a finger straight at him. “If this falls through, it’s the end of your career colonel.”

  “I realize that sir. Though I made it clear that final approval was not up to me. So you have an out. However, I didn’t want them thinking another demonstration would help us come to a decision. So I led them to believe these kinds of arrangements are common amongst our countries, and that I didn’t anticipate any resistance. Assuming the upsides for us were compelling.”

  “So what have you arranged colonel?” asked the commandant.

  “In short, they wish to hire us to help them with some operations in environments that are proving challenging.”

  “What kind of operations?”

  “Assassinations mostly, although they also need various structures and facilities disabled.”

  The commandant tilted his head. “That sounds reasonable, but what’s the catch? What do they need us for if they’ve got all this firepower?”

  The colonel gestured toward an empty chair. “May I?”

  “Please.”

  While he took his seat, the colonel thought fast. He concluded that laying what he knew in front of the chiefs was the best idea to get their compliance.

  “The situation they’re faced with is delicate,” he said. “The specific operations I discussed with Katona need stealth, and just as importantly, they need complete deniability. Their goal is to break apart an uneasy alliance by removing a couple of moderate leaders. An orbital bombardment would take out the leaders, but it would also strengthen the alliance, not weaken it.”

  “Did you say orbital bombardment?”

  “Yes, we discussed that as an option. They tried it fifty years ago. To be honest, I believe it was more Katona’s way of telling me they had the capability, than an actual option he was considering.”

  The Commandant’s face hardened. “It sounds like they have a situation similar to the one the Soviets had in Afghanistan a hundred years ago. But again, why do they need us?”

  “The world in question, Marbel they call it, is a sub arctic climate. They can only operate there with the support of their technology, and that is easy to detect.”

  The commandant nodded. “And you believe them?”

  “I do sir, we discussed the
situation for hours. We went into excruciating detail, not only on the specifics of the operations they’ve planned, but on the history that’s led them to this point. I didn’t smell a rat at any point.”

  The commandant looked down at the table and flicked through the documents there. “Yes, we’ve all seen the transcripts of your conversations. I wish we had some of the imagery to support it.”

  “I brought several flimsies with that data. Unfortunately during the debriefing your technicians deemed any object I brought back too risky to keep.”

  “We’ll get that data off them, don’t worry colonel.”

  The colonel languidly waved a hand. “Don’t go to any effort on my part, I’ve seen all I need to see. That data was more for your benefit.”

  “There were some other objects,” the commandant said, tapping the document displayed in front of him.

  “Yes, Samples.”

  “Samples of what?”

  “Samples of technology which, if we find them suitable, they can supply in bulk. Basically, what I’ve sold my boys, and potentially my career, down the river for.”

  Whitfield held his breath, during his earlier debrief he’d studiously avoided mentioned any details about the objects, or even that they were trade samples.

  His commandant scrolled through the documents. “There’s no mention of any objects in the transcripts.”

  “No sir. I felt that wherever possible all information pertaining to this operation should come from this group.”

  “I can’t fault you there colonel, so are you going to enlighten us? What kind of beads and trinkets were on offer?”

  Whitfield bristled but kept any ire out of his voice. “The first item is essentially a fuel cell. There’s a variety of sizes, though I imagine we could easily standardize them.”

  “A fuel cell? Are you serious colonel?”

  “Yes, the largest is the size of a soda can. It puts out a thousand or so mega watts.”

  There were a couple of intakes of breath around the table, but the commandant wasn’t impressed. “We’ve got ultra-cap devices on navy rail guns that can supply that kind of wattage.”

  “Sure, but for how long? A second? Two?” Whitfield leaned forward, more for effect than anything else. “These devices can provide a thousand megawatts indefinitely. You could replace all the reactors in our largest carrier with two of these soda cans. Or install those naval rail guns in just about anything that can carry them.”

  There was a pause as this sunk in. It was the commandant who broke the silence. “What did you mean by indefinitely? Surely these batteries run out eventually,” he said in a curious tone.

  Whitfield smiled inwardly, it looked like his boss was warming up to the idea. “These cells use something the Galactics call ship-fuel. It’s a general purpose fuel that comes in a variety of energy densities. All the cells use the highest density variety. Only the large ones are refillable. Most are sealed.”

  “What is this ship-fuel made from? With that kind of output, it has to be nuclear?” The commandant was completely on board now.

  “Katona didn’t say, actually I got the impression he either didn’t know, or thought engineering details were below him.”

  The commandant nodded. “Well, whatever it’s made from, I don’t imagine it will be that hard for the boffins to deconstruct. Now, what else was on offer?”

  With that statement the mood of the room shifted, the chiefs leaned forward with bright eyes. Whitfield relaxed, the next couple of pieces of technology didn’t have the wow factor of a power station in a soda can, but they’d probably end up having a similar impact on the human race.

  So he took a deep breath and began to speak.

  — 7 —

  It was late when Jon stumbled back to his apartment in Trenton. He really should have moved out six months ago, when his wife left, but he’d grown used to living off base. Besides, it was only a couple of minutes away if he was needed on short notice. So, more out of momentum than anything else, he’d kept the apartment on.

  It had been a long day, but he’d managed to get the skeleton of a plan together. What he’d put together was only a beginning, really. He hoped colonel wouldn’t be too disappointed. As always, the devil was in the logistics. Antarctica was a long way away. Things like supply drops and contingencies for hot extractions ballooned out from being line items in a checklist, to fully fledged operational plans in their own right.

  He had just kicked off his boots and was padding to the kitchen in search of a drink when something caught the corner of his eye. He froze. The door to his terrace was half open, and he was positive he hadn’t left it that way at five this morning.

  Every sense heightened as he strained to hear, smell, or sense who was out there. The terrace lights were off and the only thing visible in the glass was reflected light. He was just reaching for his hip when a dulcet female voice with a distinctive Caribbean accent called.

  “Jon is that you?”

  Jon let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Annelise, yes. What a nice surprise, what are you doing out there in the dark?”

  “Admiring your view.”

  “I’ll join you, let me grab a beer. Do you want one?”

  She paused, considering. “Sure, why not.”

  He went to the kitchen, fetched two glasses, poured the beers from the keg in his refrigerator and joined her out on the terrace.

  Hundreds of thousands of city lights spread out below them. Volantors flew in traffic lanes so precise that they looked like long conveyor belts snaking through the night. In the middle of this sea of lights the Trent formed an inky black line.

  “The river looks so different at night,” said Annelise in a melancholy tone.

  Jon’s ears pricked up. “Is everything okay?”

  She turned to face him, mouth pinched tight. “I know,” she said and pointed up. “About the Galactics.”

  “Is that what they’re being called?”

  “In Washington, yes.”

  Jon handed her a beer. “Well, at least I don’t have to keep them from you.”

  She took the beer and touched him gently on his forearm. “No, but honestly, I understand that you can’t always talk about what you do.”

  “Given that the colonel came down in a McDonnell Orbital shuttle, I would imagine that you know more than I do. But I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

  “I came with the service team for the shuttle.”

  “But you’re a…”

  “Aerospace engineer? Yes.” Annelise gave a shake of her head and took a long pull at her beer. “Oh the board explained that away when they hustled me onto the transport. They didn’t tell me about the Galactics until later.”

  “No-one’s supposed to know,” Jon said. “But I can’t see how that will last.”

  “No. Well, they fed me some crap about a new market for designing military sub orbital HALO drop gear. At least until I was on the transport, then Don gave me the full story.”

  “Don?”

  “The Vice President of Engineering, he’s running McDonnell Orbital’s presence here in Trenton.”

  “So what did he say?”

  She pressed her full lips together until they went white. “Look Jon, these Galactics have every military and aerospace contractor scared out of their wits.”

  “That’s understandable…”

  “No, you don’t get it. They’re not scared of the Galactics, though they probably should be. They’re scared of what this will do to their nice predictable markets.”

  Jon blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was hon. They’re freaking out at the thought that one of their competitors might get access to a juicy piece of alien tech before them.”

  Jon thought of the Ka-Li pistol he’d had the XO stash in the colonel’s safe, and its self milling ammunition block. “Yes, things will change I imagine.”

  “They will. And these companies are scrabbling for trac
tion. They’re calling in favors left right and center and offering incentives that are…” she stopped, obviously lost for words.

  “Indescribable?”, said Jon.

  “More like unbelievable. If these people had souls, they’d be hawking them like a fishwife for this tech. Which is why they dragged me along.”

  “I kind of figured it wasn’t just to see me.”

  Annelise leaned in, and they touched shoulder to shoulder as they looked out over the city lights. “They know about you and I. They know you’re in the colonel’s regiment. And whether it’s intentional or not, the colonel seems to have positioned himself as the mouthpiece of these Galactics. At least for the moment. You’re close to him.” She took a breath and looked him uncertainly in the eyes. “And I’m close to you. Is all this adding up?”

  Jon let that sink in for a couple of seconds. “So what exactly did this VP ask you to do?”

  “Nothing specific. I think they’re just trying to garner good will, on the off chance you’ll have something to offer them in the future.”

  “And, putting the idea of working for them in our heads.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “What do you think?” said Jon in an offhand voice while watching on her out of the corner of his eye.

  Annelise looked out into the night, she seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze. “I’m pleased the choice is not up to me. But if someone is going to be setup for life…”

  Jon let her sentence dangle. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected her to say. One thing that had attracted him when they’d first met was her forthright honesty. It was a refreshing change from his ex wife. In the six months they’d been seeing each other, he hadn’t seen her act in any way contrary to that.

  The silence lengthened. He waited for her to fill the gap, then she would say what was on her mind. It was a cheap tactic, but he could see that she was struggling with something. It made him cringe inside to watch her like this. But years of being ambushed by his Machiavellian wife had trained him to play his cards close to his chest.