FronCar nodded. “Very good, Doctor. Carry on.”
“You should know, Commander, that if there’s one of these intelligent indigenes, there are bound to be others.”
* * * *
“How’re you doing, Chick?” Chrissy sat beside Daniels’ bed.
The latter was there under protest. “I’m fine. It’s just a finger. It’s not like I lost a leg.”
“Tough guy, huh? The doctor said you need to stay in bed for at least a day, until you replenish the blood you lost.”
“What does he know? He’s not a doc, just a washed-up Army corpsman.”
“Hey, be nice! He stitched you up, didn’t he? Be glad we have him or you might’ve bled out.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just grouchy. I hate lying around when there’s stuff to do.”
“Like I said, ‘tough guy’. So, how’s the pain?”
He held up his left arm, which had two bandages on it, a big one on his hand and a smaller one on his forearm, where the denim jacket had kept the other Zom’s bite from doing more than just breaking the skin.
“Pain? What pain? With the oxy the doc gave me, you could cut me open and hand me my guts and I wouldn’t feel it.”
“Good. Think how grumpy you’d be if you were actually in pain.”
They both got a laugh from that.
* * * *
“You called for me, Your Excellency?” FronCar stood at perfect attention while he waited for Viceroy CresNal to acknowledge his presence.
CresNal continued to focus on the viewscreen in front of him in the sumptuous ready room. The rich, woven draperies and the rare wood species used to decorate his desk were ridiculous indulgences that FronCar sneered at internally. Of course, it would be suicide to let the viceroy know how he felt.
Finally CresNal finished his apparent show of importance and turned to face FronCar.
“At ease, Commander. What is your assessment of the security level in the city below?”
FronCar wasn’t sure where CresNal was going with this question. He kept the answer simple, without embellishment.
“Sir, we have essentially secured approximately one-fifth of the city, starting at the southern end, with another twenty percent or so nearly free of indigenes. A few indigenes pop up now and then from various hiding places, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. We continue to push the remainder toward the north. We should have half of the city fully secured within the month. The rest of the city within three.”
“Excellent. So, the process didn’t require bombing half the planet after all.”
Nothing like throwing an ‘I told you so’ in one’s face. “No sir. We have lost several hundred troops along the way, but those are acceptable losses.”
“Indeed. In that case, I would like you to begin setting up a full defensive perimeter around the secured area so we can begin offloading colonists. We have been up here for two months already, and the colonists are eager to begin their new lives on this beautiful planet we’ve arrived at.”
“Sir, I recommend waiting until the entire city is secure and we can erect the force field around everything. Trying to envelop just a piece of it, with buildings, trees, and other obstacles in the way, will severely compromise the effectiveness of the perimeter.”
“Do you have the area secured or not, Commander? Have you overstated the effectiveness of your troops?” CresNal’s frown hinted at dire consequences for the wrong answer.
“No, sir. But there are limitations to the effectiveness of the barrier technology. Obstacles can create gaps in the coverage. Gaps that could allow indigenes to slip through and threaten the colonists.”
CresNal pondered that thought for a moment. “You have nearly two million troops in orbit, do you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Then why not deploy a few hundred, or even a thousand, to patrol the perimeter, to keep the filthy creatures out?”
“I could do that, sir, but it creates its own set of problems: supply lines, housing, transportation, and so on, above and beyond all the same things for the colonists.”
“You’ll figure it out. Just do whatever you have to do to begin settling our passengers on the planet within the week.”
FronCar had no other answer but, “Yes, sir. I’ll see it done.”
“Good, good. We won’t fully own this planet until we actually begin living on it.”
Chapter Twelve
Viceroy CresNal smiled into the holographic pickup. His image was being transmitted to all twenty of the immense ships of the fleet. They served as aircraft carriers for the 20,000 attack and transport craft, barracks for the two million troops, and as colony ships for the half-million settlers. Each spherical carrier’s exterior was dotted with a thousand of the smaller ships.
“I am pleased to announce the beginning of the lottery to determine who the lucky first one thousand settlers will be in our new home. First priority will go to five hundred soldiers and an equal number of females for the breeding creches once the region is fully secured.
What he didn’t mention was that many of the “winners” would actually be cronies of his that he was rewarding with the first chance to get off the ships.
“Good luck to everyone. The winners will be announced tomorrow. To the lucky winners, congratulations in advance. Enjoy your new home.”
He smiled once again, and then cut the feed.
FronCar stood nearby, out of range of the pickup. He now stepped forward.
“Excellent broadcast, Your Excellency.” It wouldn’t hurt to butter up the pompous fool. “Have you considered the female issue, sir?”
“What do you mean, Commander?”
“Typically, on a mission such as this one, a large majority of the soldiers are killed in the act of conquering the planet. As a result, the 500,000 females in breeding creches are usually plenty for the remaining soldiers. In this case, it appears there will be nearly two million soldiers settling, along with the females. That means possibly four males for each female. That could become a serious issue.”
“They’re your men, Commander. I’ll leave that to your discretion. Let’s worry about that when the time comes.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * *
Daniels and Geoff Meisner sat together at one of the tables in the main banquet hall of The Castle over lunch. The diesel emergency generator had been found and the fuel tanks filled. There was only enough power for the emergency lights and a few other important capabilities; not the entire convention center.
Of course, it was dangerous to use lights at night, with the alien patrols coming and going at all hours. Instead, by rerouting the power to the kitchen, they had managed to run the microwave ovens, and walk-in refrigerators and freezers. (After cleaning out the putrefied food and airing out the units for a few days, that is.) That made for much more enjoyable meals: Hot canned food, pasta, rice, and dried beans, as well as ice cold drinks, and fresh bread—using the ovens that were still fueled by natural gas.
The living accommodations were the best any of them had had since the apocalypse began, and the building was secure against Zoms. If not for the aliens, life would be reasonably good for the survivors.
Daniels stared at his glass as he swirled the ice around in it. “The patrols continue to increase in this area. It’s only a matter of time until one of them decides to check out this building. And all of those space shuttles, or aircraft, or whatever they are, coming and going, have me worried. I think they’re finally starting to move in for good.”
Geoff nodded. “I know what you mean. If they start bussin’ aliens into the neighborhood, sooner or later some o’ them will want to move in here. We cain’t get too comf’table. We may have to leave in a hurry.”
“I agree. But I think we need to do more than just come up with an exit plan and another position to fallback to. This is an invasion and I think we need to start scouting the enemy. See if we can find some weaknesses we can exploit at some point. We h
ave about fifty people in our little army now, although not all are in condition to fight. Still, it’s a darn sight more than we had when we first met.”
“True, but we ain’t in any condition to fight a war. Not against an entire invasion force.”
“No, of course not. I wasn’t suggesting anything that crazy. I was thinking more like sending a couple of small scouting parties down the train line into the southern part of town, where they seem to be concentrating. If they’re not guarding the train terminals down there, we might be able to poke our heads out and see what’s what.”
“I hear what yore sayin’ but it concerns me. What if one of the parties gets spotted and leads the aliens right back here? That’d be real bad for all of us.”
“Of course. We’d have to make sure we don’t come directly back. Maybe we return down a different train line, return to the surface and cross town on foot to this line and then return that way. It runs the risk of us being spotted on a street corner, but it would be safer for the people back here.”
Meisner nodded. “That could work. Fine, pick two teams and we’ll start patrols of our own in the morning. Forewarned is forearmed, right?”
“Absolutely.”
* * * *
For the first time, Battle Commander FronCar stood on the surface of his future home. He looked up at the blueness of the sky and the brightness of the sun. For a moment he basked in the afternoon warmth and the coolness of the intermittent breeze. There were scents in the air that he couldn’t identify. He hoped that soon he’d be able to.
In the not-too-distant-future, this would be where he would retire and spend the rest of his days in leisure. For now, he had a job to do. With the immediate area secure, he felt it was time for an on-site inspection.
He wasn’t impressed with the local architecture, and many of the buildings were clearly damaged from rioting or looting, or whatever else had gone on here as civilization crumbled. Yet, other buildings showed signs of long-term decay. That he didn’t understand.
How could a civilization capable of spaceflight allow its own cities to fall apart?
No matter, the Drahtch were here now and things would be different. The colonists would live in this city for the months it took to create a whole new modern Drahtch city from scratch. This planet would become the paradise Draht had once been, many centuries ago, before rampant overpopulation had robbed it of its former beauty and open spaces. And then the indigene cities would be razed and buried, soon to be forgotten.
FronCar watched as one of the battle pods—armed and armored personnel and cargo haulers—landed in an open park area. The ramp descended and the first settlers set foot on this planet. They were escorted by soldiers to the temporary housing they had been assigned. Although the quarters had been fumigated and repaired to make them livable, they were hardly up to Drahtch standards. But they would do for now. At least these colonists weren’t still cooped up aboard ship.
Meals were communal, held in a large centrally located building.
Once the first hundred colonists had exited, a like number of soldiers entered the pod for the return trip. There were nearly two million troops in space and only a thousand or so were needed on-planet at once, so far. It was a good practice to rotate the troops, ship by ship, to give at least some of them a chance to gain experience on the ground, as well as blowing off steam. There was nothing like a life-and-death struggle to get one’s blood pumping.
Besides, they weren’t only soldiers. Before entering mandatory military service at age 40, each was an experienced research scientist, engineer, adjudicator, exobiologist, or an expert in some other field necessary for colonization. Their reward for years of dedicated service, both before and during military service, was the opportunity to experience and tame a new world for the glory of the Empire. Many of them were needed to prepare this city for temporary habitation, while their permanent home was being built.
Every day, from now until the new city was completed and fully secured and settled, ships would descend and return from here. It was the only way to keep the flow of people and supplies moving.
Eventually, nearly two and a half million people would have settled on this planet, along with all of the matériel required to rebuild civilization in the Drahtch image.
FronCar took another deep breath of fresh air and then turned to enter the building behind him. He had much work to do.
* * * *
Daniels’ team, consisting of his usual quartet, plus two of Geoff’s people—Myra Kildare and Frank Krutov—continued down the Blue line tracks toward the southeastern part of town. The other team of six had just split off down the Orange line toward the southwestern side of the city.
It was going to be a long hike, at least six miles each way, but it would give them the best idea of what the aliens were up to.
The first couple of miles were uneventful, although somewhat spooky. The subway tunnel was pitch black and they were operating by flashlight. Every so often they heard the sound of something squeaking or skittering up ahead. Once, creaking noises came from above. Aliens passing by? The ground settling?
There was no telling, but each sound caused them to freeze. After a minute, they started walking again. At one point, Moose accidentally kicked a soda can and sent it clattering down the track. Everyone froze for an instant, before chuckling nervously and then continuing on.
When they approached the Johnson Street station, they proceeded with caution, turning off their lights. It opened onto the street above, letting in some daylight, but there was no way to tell whether the gate at the top of the stairs was locked or unlocked. There was every possibility that Zoms were sleeping in the station, or would come running if the travelers made a sound.
Step by cautious step, the group proceeded. They tiptoed two by two, holding their breaths. Foot after foot, yard after yard, they continued until they were around the first curve beyond the station. After a collective sigh of relief, they turned on their flashlights again, more relaxed now that they were past the most likely point of attack.
They simultaneously tried to watch their footing and peer beyond the flashlights into the shadows. They couldn’t do much about the flashlights. Without them they couldn’t see and were likely to trip. With them, however, any Zoms in the area would know exactly where they were.
Five minutes later, something clattered ahead. A rat, maybe? And then again. A voice cried out, followed by a shriek and a series of grunts. A Zom appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere, lit by the flashlights. Two others followed, and then a handful more.
The six humans spread out as much as the tunnel would let them, to provide an unimpeded line of fire. They opened up with two rifles, a shotgun, two pistols, and a revolver. The enclosed space magnified the noise and created echoes.
A dozen Zoms fell. More kept coming. It seemed like a sea of them, all charging down the barrels of the guns. Seven more died, creating a pile of bodies ahead of the humans. Then three more came, trailing the pack. They died as well.
None of the Zoms had gotten within ten yards of the team. Still, they were shaken by the size of the pack that had charged them.
“Jesus!” Myra said, with a quaver in her voice. “Let’s hope there aren’t any more packs like that up ahead. We might not have enough ammo.”
“Amen, sister,” Chrissy agreed. And then a thought occurred to her. “What if the aliens are in the area and heard all that racket?”
Daniels cleared his throat. “Enough chitchat, people. Let’s get a move on, in case there are any other Zoms—or aliens—in the area.”
They had an awkward time climbing over the bodies strewn across the tracks, two and three deep in places. There was hardly room to place a foot for twenty yards without stepping on a body.
Frank Krutov, trailing the group, shook his head. “To think, these used to be people like us. Family, friends, coworkers, the jerk who cut us off in traffic. Now they’re just wild animals.”
“Hush back there,”
Daniels admonished. “Let’s keep it quiet. There’s no telling what’s up ahead.”
“Sorry, boss.”
The group continued in silence for another mile or so, until they reached the 14th Avenue station. There they encountered a potential problem.
There was a train stopped at the platform in front of the station. The group paused to consider the situation.
“What now, Sarge?” Jesse asked.
With two tracks, there was plenty of room to pass the train. The real concern was that the train blocked the view of the platform and the other side of the tracks. That created a blind spot.
Daniels shrugged. “Nothing much we can do except keep our eyes and ears open.”
They did just that. Careful to step on the crossties, rather than the gravel that separated them, they were nearly silent in passing the station.
Thirty seconds beyond the station and just past the end of the last train car, they relaxed.
That was their undoing.
Someone kicked a piece of gravel, which dinged off the outer rail and clattered over more gravel. They froze. A second later, two hooting Zoms rounded the last car and dove at them. Another jumped into their midst from the top of the car. Two of the party dropped their flashlights in the process of fighting the Zoms.
A female voice shrieked in the middle of the howling and grunting. Moose and Frank, at the front, dispatched two of the Zoms with their knives. Jesse, near the back, got the third.
A gurgling sound emanated from the ground. Chrissy turned her flashlight in that direction. Maya lay there, throat ripped open. Blood spurted into the air. After a few seconds, she stopped moving. The blood continued to dribble out for another second or two.
“Shit,” a shaken Frank said. “She was only twenty-four. Good kid. Always a nice word for everyone.”
Chrissy, only nineteen herself, swallowed hard.
Daniels sighed. “Nothing we can do for her. We still have a mission. On the way back, we’ll see if we can do something. It’s too far to carry her all the way, though.”
Aliens Versus Zombies Page 11
