Gods of War (Jethro goes to war Book 5)

by Chris Hechtl

  And in-between them and the robot mowers, robots were dragging coils of razor wire and laying it out to protect them. The drone banked sharply. She glanced at the controls and realized an override had kicked in. She looked around and noted an incoming shuttle. She nodded. Good she thought as the shuttle settled in.

  For the time being, the shuttles were landing VTOL and STOL. But both methods sucked up fuel and invited FOD. They were also a bit harder to do, though many pilots liked to hot dog it. Having the runway would cut the fuel cost and … She watched as the shuttle did a hot pass down the runway, ramp down as it kicked out cargo with drogue chutes. She nodded. “Nice,” she murmured to herself.

  Another shuttle followed it in with its own hot drop and then pulled out. The third came in for a similar action. But the fourth one was set to land on the furthest end of the runway. As it landed, its ramp came down. The drone circled just enough for her to see into the shadows between the tail rudders as a bulldozer came rumbling out under the guidance of the load master and crew.

  “It looks like things are moving smoothly,” she murmured. “Are we on schedule?” she asked.

  “So far so good, ma'am,” Snagglepuss reported. He tended to hiss spit a bit when he got excited. “The winds are picking up in the afternoon. Little to no clouds in the forecast.”

  “Good,” the colonel replied as she noted a building being erected. It was a tent; there were others being laid out as well. It seemed the blueprint of the base had been mapped out and was going together well. “Very good,” she murmured in approval. “We'll have a functioning toehold by nightfall at this rate. Any sign of enemy activity?”

  “Heavens to Murgatroyd, I'd tell you if there was wouldn't I?” the A.I. drawled, breaking her concentration of the aerial view.

  She pulled out of the feed to glower at the blue Neocat avatar. “I don't need the attitude or colloquialisms, Ensign. Stick to the facts,” she stated.

  “Yes, ma'am,” the A.I. replied, clearly subdued.

  She eyed him for another moment, then decided to walk the room to get a feel of other things going on.

  <)>^<)>/

  General Drier chose one of Pablo's militias to hit the enemy. The idea was to hit them with a mortar attack and lure them into a trap. It didn't go off as planned. The mortar rounds were shot out of the sky by lasers before they had gotten to the ground. The mortar team had been running for their lives when a drone had struck them down.

  Next, he tried a series of sniper attacks on the columns headed out to the nearest towns and villages. He was prepared to slow the units down; a single good sniper could tie up a unit for hours, sometimes days, before he or she was taken out. But again the Federation took out his soldier before he was truly effective. The observers behind the sniper watched him get off two shots before the active defenses on the ground convoy engaged to interdict his fire. Then weapon turrets turned and fired return rounds that tore him and the ground around him into molten glass.

  “Damn it!” Captain Goddard swore when she heard the report.

  “Patience. These are just the opening moves,” the general said as he read the reports.

  <)>^<)>/

  Word about the new invasion spread like wildfire across the planet through the HAM and other surviving radio networks. At first, the native population was worried, then news that the new invaders were engaging the Horathians hit the radio network. That sparked spontaneous celebrations.

  Isabel heard the news when Claire and Judith came up Main Street whooping, hollering, and dancing. She looked to see a crowd gathering at Al's place farther down the street.

  “What's going on?” she asked from her doorway.

  “The Marines have landed! We're saved!” Claire said before she slipped in some mud and went down on her ample rump with a splash. She laughed, splashing herself until her sister came over and tried to help her up. She too slipped and went down sputtering. The two laughed joyously.

  There was something infectious, something relieving in that laughter. Like the sun was finally coming out Isabel thought absently as she closed the door behind her. She hiked up her skirt, daintily stepped around the mud puddle and the two giggling muddy sisters, then went to Al's to hear the news for herself.

  When she got there, Al saw her, smiled and then turned up the radio for all to hear. Isabel nodded to Vanessa and Kevin. They had apparently stopped in town with an early spring load to Al's she thought happily just as the person on the radio caught her attention.

  “It's confirmed, folks; the cavalry has come! The Federation, wherever they've been for the past seven centuries, has returned! We've heard about engagements in various places near the landing zone. They have been fired on by the Horathians and have returned fire. Do whatever you can to stay out of the fire folks, and if you can, lend them a hand so they can route the bastards out once and for all!” Jean Claude Debois said triumphantly over the radio.

  “Damn, it's good to hear that,” Serena said, hugging herself to her husband's side. She dashed tears and then buried herself in his strong arms as she cried softly to herself.

  Isabel looked around the room and noted she wasn't the only one crying. But they were happy tears she noted. A lot of smiles were going around.

  “The first Marine I see I'm going to give him or her a big wet smacker on the lips!” Isabel said loudly enough to spark a titter and then roar of laughter and approval from the crowd.

  <)>^<)>/

  Vanessa brought word back of the new invasion. Kevin was excited; he tore off as they pulled in and excitedly told his sisters and brothers before they could unload.

  The kids came back when their father chased them back to their mother's wagon. Sheepishly, they put off the burning questions as they and the farm hands unloaded the wagon and then put it away before they unhitched the team and let them loose in the coral. One of the geldings rolled to ease his back while another pranced.

  “It seems like they've caught the spirit too,” Vanessa said, all smiles as she hugged her husband. He looked down at her. She pulled his head down for a kiss, making his eyes go wide in surprise.

  When the kiss broke, her eyes promised more lately. He cleared his throat as the kids and hands danced and cavorted in the yard. “Enough of that. We don't know what it means, nor how it will affect us. Besides, this is a farm; we've got chores to do,” he said.

  The kids awed and scuffed their shoes but went back to work.

  “Kevin met a girl in town,” Vanessa murmured to him. Jon turned to her in surprise. “She's older but smart and independent. I'm thinking if something comes of it maybe we can give them one of the other farms as a wedding present? You know, to sort of get them off on the right foot?” she asked.

  “Well now, we'll have to think about that. What with your cousins in the other farm,” Jon said rubbing his chin.

  She nodded.

  “You think it's true?” he asked, eying her. “This new invasion?”

  “It's on the radio. One thing Jean Claude hasn't done is lie to us. He's a good man,” she said.

  He nodded. “It'll put the spark back in Harambe's group and the others here and there across the planet. They haven't done well against the invaders up until now. I guess I'll dig that radio out again then. Hook it up tonight so we can hear it for ourselves,” he said.

  “After supper,” she said, nodding to the kids and the farm yard. “They've still got chores, and the rate they are going, they'll be at it all day,” she said with an amused smirk.

  He chuckled. “Well, it does give one reason to hope. What's that expression? A song in your heart?” he asked.

  She hugged him again and then he kissed her on her forehead and went back to work. She gave him a sassy smack on the rump to see him off.

  Chapter 37

  “Welcome to Destria, ma'am,” Major N'v'll, her Veraxin XO said as Colonel Harley stepped off the shuttle ramp to the taxiway. They exchanged salutes.

  “You've been working wonders here,” she s
aid, looking around in approval.

  “We're trying, ma'am. Of course Captain Falco's people have helped there,” the Veraxin said, nodding to AJ as he came out of the cockpit with his copilot.

  “We aim to please,” AJ drawled as he came up behind the colonel. “As soon as we finish unloading, we'll get on our way,” he said pointedly, motioning to the two senior officers to shoo.

  Dana snorted at the reminder but moved clear of the ramp so workers and robots could get in and out easier. She noted a ground crew hooking up a fuel hose while another person went to work inspecting the bird.

  She looked over to where the temporary hangars were being built. “I know we're getting there, but I can't help but agree with Hernandez that taking the spaceport should be our next objective, even if it makes us a bigger target,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “It would give us two ports to come in and out of, ma'am. And we'd be next to the capital city as well as near where the Horathians had set up one of their primary bases,” the Veraxin said.

  “Well, now that we've got most of the troops down, we can move on to Phase II shortly. Tell me about this new voice I've been hearing things about,” she said as Major Zedeal came up and saluted. She returned the salute. “Blake, nice timing as usual,” she drawled.

  “I thought I felt my ears burning, ma'am,” he said wickedly. She snorted. “You were asking about the local's, ma'am?” the colonel nodded. “Well, everyone has been pointing us to this Debois fellow. We've been monitoring his broadcasts. He's honest, not polished, and keeps it short and sweet. He's also something of a target; the enemy has tried to kill him several times.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Dana said with a nod.

  “He's human though. We're getting a lot of radio requests for support or to get our intentions from all over. Some certainly sound legit. A few sound like Neos or nonhumans,” the major said as his eyes cut briefly to the Veraxin and then back to the colonel. “Sorting out the sheep from the goats is going to be important soon so we can figure out who to trust,” he said.

  “Definitely,” Dana murmured. “Keep on it. As for this Jean guy, we need to talk. He sounds like the only public leader who's come forward. We need to get a feel for him and his personality,” she said.

  “Which will be tough, ma'am. As I said, he's got a big target on his back. The longer he talks to us, the easier the enemy can track him down. Just as we can track him down. Trust is in short supply in some areas,” the major warned.

  “Well, we'll have to work on that,” Dana said firmly. “Any sightings?”

  “No, ma'am. The Horathians have been keeping a low profile. We've caught a few of their observers, so they've pushed their networks out further and go to ground the moment we try to corner them. We know a bit though,” he said as he waved for her to move to the HQ building.

  “Such as?” she asked. “I read your latest report,” she offered.

  “That was last night. We caught a break when we had a nice 'chat' with some of the observers that moved too slow to slip our nets. One of them let slip in an angry utterance that 'General Drier is going to kick our ass.’”

  “So the squids didn't get him when they bombed the shit out of his main base,” Dana murmured.

  “No, ma'am. That hasn't been confirmed,” Major N'v'll warned.

  “Lovely. So, the head is still firmly attached to whatever is left of the snake. And we don't know if the snake is a garden snake or an anaconda. Joy. Any other good news?”

  “Just two, both are mixed though. There have been no sightings of the enemy armor. We can take that as the squids got them—according to some of our INTEL their armor morgue was next to their HQ—or we can wonder if they got out like the general.”

  “You are just full of good news this morning, Blake,” Dana said, eying the spook.

  He spread his hands apart in supplication. “Sorry, ma'am.”

  “No, I need the wake-up. What's the other shoe? You might as well drop it now,” she said as they got to the doors of the headquarters tent.

  “Well,” the major said as he opened one side for her and Major N'v'll to enter. “We've got several confirmation reports that the enemy still has aircraft in service. Most of the reports are on the line of troop transport; none of the reports have mentioned gunships or drones. Though they did say that they had them before the squids spread the love all over the planet,” he said as the guard on duty checked their IFF, then logged them in.

  “Okay, so, what else?” she asked as they moved into the meeting room.

  “Well …”

  <)>^<)>/

  Jean Claude was glad one of Kadir's people had figured out how to rig their hand-crank generator to the wheels of the wagon. It allowed them to charge the batteries on the move and then he could use them to broadcast … or even broadcast on the move if he wished.

  He had tried to contact the Marines, but he was too far out of range with his simple set to get a clear consistent signal. He could only connect with them when they were on the top of the hills and there was nothing between them and the distant northwestern horizon.

  He had to do it from a more powerful tower. Wade and Kadir hadn't been happy, but they'd reluctantly agreed to stop at a tower on the hills overlooking Fallbrook and the surrounding area.

  When they broke into the transmitter building, they found the radio equipment had been hooked up to some sort of electronic box. Most likely by the invaders Wade judged.

  “We've got power Boyd said!” Kadir called out triumphantly from outside. “Damn near shocked himself,” he said with a half laugh.

  “Whatya mean damn near! I did!” Boyd answered back.

  “If you had, you'd be dead,” Kadir mocked. “You got what you need?” he asked Jean Claude. Jean Claude nodded mutely. “Best be about it quick like you know. It'll get dark soon,” Kadir warned, looking about them. “Keep it short and sweet,” he growled as he left the shack.

  “Right,” Jean Claude said as they checked the wiring. The amp was good, and the invaders had even provided a wire that someone had spliced into the old hardware for them. All they had to do was unplug it and plug it into Jean Claude's small set and they were in business.

  <)>^<)>/

  “He's transmitting!” Sergeant Adkins said as he looked up. “It's coming from a tower I swear it. Gotta be from how powerful the transmission is. And it's close,” he growled.

  Vincent shook off his pee, then zipped up his fly, and came over to the sergeant. He looked at the oscilloscope, then used his fingers to turn the speaker up. Adkins winced and took his headset off.

  “Get the bearing. No, I'll do it. You work on figuring out the range and see if you can get the others to report in any sightings of vehicles or riders in the area,” Vincent growled as he pushed the sergeant to get up off the camp stool.

  <)>^<)>/

  Jean was ecstatic when he got a response from the Marines. The voice was suspicious, but when they realized who they were talking with, they passed him up the chain of command until a Major Zedeal returned his call.

  “Major, I'm glad to find someone in charge,” Jean said as his cousin rolled his eyes and then looked away.

  “I'm sorry you've been passed around and put on hold. We've been looking forward to talking with you Mister Debois,” the Marine replied.

  “Thank you.”

  “In particular, we'd like to know what you know about the enemy and who else we can get into contact with,” the major said.

  Ned grimaced. Jean Claude nodded sagely, however. He knew what their game was; they wanted, no, needed to know everything they could about the enemy. He in turn wanted them to know it. He wanted to pass on his gathered intelligence and make the connections that he could with them. Trust was a problem. He realized the only way to safely do it was to take a leap of faith and meet her in person. It was the only way to be sure and to not give his location and information away to anyone else listening in.

  “Well, I can te
ll you that you are up against the Nineteenth Division from Horath. They are led by General Drier. He got out just before your bombs hit. You took out a good chunk of their First Brigade when you hit them last year. They've kept a low profile as of late, but they are around. Their liaison is Pablo Eronez. They call him Captain Eronez. He is a very short fella who has been a spiteful son of a bitch ever since they showed up.”

  “Okay, we obviously need to meet up,” the major said in an eager voice.

  “I'm glad you said that. We're at a crossroads here; there are about a dozen towns all around us. We'll need to leave here soon. I can meet up in one of those towns when you eventually come-a-calling,” Jean Claude said.

  “Understood. I know you have a target on your back. If you see or hear an aircraft, please transmit a signal to us. We'll try to set up a point where we can pick you up at. Obviously, we need to be aware of any traps,” the major said. “Now, before you go, do you know if any of the other planetary leaders are alive? And if so … no, you can't tell us where, but perhaps you know who has been helping the enemy?”

  “Well …,” Jean Claude inhaled as he pulled out his frayed notebook. “I have some of that here, but I'm afraid I lost my glasses a few weeks ago so it might be tough to read …”

  <)>^<)>/

  General Drier saw the reports of native celebrations being held across the planet and was pissed. Everything they'd done for the ungrateful bastards, to get them out from under the yoke of the aliens and Neos … all for naught.

  He had considered his options after hearing the reports on the first engagements. Direct confrontation was out; the enemy was down in too much force with too much tech to take straight on. They'd see them coming and would be able to engage with their drones, gunships, or hell, even a KEW strike from orbit. He'd hoped they'd stick to the capital city and spaceport. That was why he'd pre-positioned some of his pawn units, the native militia units as he thought of them, in and around the city. They would have been nice forces to blood the enemy and get them to consider the civilians as potential hostiles.