Sage had radioed the village to start the teams toward their destinations. As soon as they left the tree cover they would be vulnerable, and she wanted them at the edge of the savanna by the following night. The supporting Kraa packs would catch up with them and accompany them the rest of the way. It had already been agreed that Tom Ford would be met by a shuttle as soon as they arrived, and leave to take up his assignment with the fleet. Sage and Jeff would have to assume all the responsibility for the mapping teams.
Early the following evening on the Stockholm . . . .
Faud was sitting at the table in the Sixkiller kitchen drinking coffee with Wren and Quanah when Tom Sixkiller came in and joined them. Wren immediately asked, even before he was able to sit down, "did you get to talk to Sage? How is she?"
"Fine; now," Tom answered, pouring himself a cup of the synthetic coffee. Sitting down he briefed the three on the results of the conference call and the short conversation he was able to have with Sage.
"She suffered a leg wound in a brush with the Gath, but seems OK now. Apparently some of Jeff Armstrong’s Torgai happened by and cut their trail. They arrived too late to stop the ambush, but found Sage and brought her to where Armstrong was located. Not much damage, a minor leg wound."
After a short pause, Tom added, "you should have heard her description of the Kraa. She'd seen them many times in the holographic videos, of course, but says they don't really come across there. She says she's never seen, or even imagined, anything like them; they give her the shivers. Like something from a science fiction movie.
“And," he laughed, "Kraa-Ki, who controls all the Kraa, seemed to assume Sage was in charge. She came within a few meters and passed back and forth several times testing the wind to get a good 'whiff' of everyone in the group, and then sat down in front of Sage; pretty much ignoring Ford and Armstrong. As a female, she expected Sage to do the talking; which she did, passing on our demands as her own. Later Jeff explained why Kraa-Ki selected her to negotiate with," he added, "all pack leaders are female.”
“Apparently," he added, "Kraa-Ki had only dealt with male Torgai and humans before, and prefers to negotiate with a female leader; one she can accept as more of an equal."
"Sounds reasonable to me," Wren murmured.
"And," Tom continued, looking at Wren out of the corner of his eyes, "she had quite a bit to say about Jeff Armstrong. She seems rather fascinated by him."
"Gee," Faud laughed, "he must be as old as you or I, Tom. If I'd known she liked older men, maybe I'd have made a pass."
Wren smiled, glancing over at Faud, "but you're not a big video star. She had all the Jeff Armstrong videos when she was a teenager. I suppose meeting the real thing is rather exciting; not even considering being rescued."
Quanah smiled, "she gets all the excitement. I sometimes wish I was in the marines; don't get to see much from the seat of an attack ship."
Tom looked at him quietly, "you'll get your excitement. They'll be moving full ahead now; soon I expect the initial stages of our assault will be put in motion."
Then, after taking a sip of his coffee, Tom added, "General Green thinks he’ll have to land ground assault groups prior to gaining air control. There simply may not be time to wait before Gath reinforcements are here. Without ground troops it's doubtful we could seal all the hangers. It could be bloody, since their only protection will be your attack ships."
Quanah looked at him thoughtfully, nodding, "which means their ships have to be dealt with early, before they can inflict too much damage."
Faud nodded, "true. As long as we can keep their ships in their hangers they're blind.”
“By the way," Faud continued, "to change the subject. They've decided to implement the plan to finish off the moon installations to free up both ships and troops stationed there. Most of the shafts are drilled, and Green has the go-ahead to place the charges. They hope to complete the operation in a couple of days."
Wren shook her head, "it's barbarous. Isn't there any other way? They're helpless down there."
"No," Faud answered slowly, "barbarous, but essential. At least they've moved away from the plan to use gas. I had problems with that."
Wren looked over at Faud, "no gas? How do they do it then?"
Faud hesitated, looking first at Tom, and then back at Wren, "well, nuclear charges lowered to the bottom of the shafts. Gas shouldn't be necessary."
Wren just looked at him with raised eyebrows.
Faud was silent for a few moments, then looked back at Wren, "even if the shafts don't reach the chambers themselves the nuclear charges should cause them to collapse; meaning we don't have to send troops below to root them out. Any Gath not killed would be pretty much trapped with no way out, allowing them to be contained with a very small ground force."
Adding, "eventually the problem will then solve itself."
Wren looked at him aghast, "good god! That's as bad as gas. Where's our humanity?"
Tom reached over and laid his hand on her shoulder, and shook his head slowly, "we left it back on Earth. I wish there were a better way, but we simply don't have the resources to fight by Earth rules."
Faud added quietly, "it's also needed as a test operation. We’ll have to do the same thing on a much larger scale on the planet itself. There we’re dealing with anywhere from a few hundred thousand to over a million Gath. If the explosive approach poses too many problems or doesn't work there we may have to try gas. “
“Unfortunately," he added, "it's much worse than our moon problem where there are only a few thousand troops and support personnel; on the planet there are a lot of noncombatants and family groups."
After a pause Tom added, "I know what you're thinking, Wren, why not offer them a chance to surrender? But consider; once the fleet leaves only the colonists will be here. How can 30,000 or so colonists control what could be over a half million prisoners? We have to face the dirty facts; this is a war to the death, them or us. If we fail everyone on the expedition dies."
"Let's change the subject," Wren said, "maybe it has to be done, but I don't want to even hear about it. We have to be better than that."
Faud looked quietly at Wren, "I wish we were; but we aren't what we wish we were. We are what we are, and circumstances control. So it has always been."
CHAPTER 5: Battle for Alpha 2
(Late July, Alpha Year 52): Sage lay in the shallow depression, nearly invisible in her camouflaged cover, which also shielded her from any but the best thermal imaging equipment, watching the activities in the distance through night-vision binoculars. Jeff and several of his Torgai were spread along the slope, equally invisible.
Over a kilometer away the column of vehicles filled with Gath slowly exited the ravine, squads of Gath in armored vehicles intermingled with the rest of the column. Overhead a squadron of Gath airships hovered, darting back and forth like dragonflies. Periodically one of the Gath airships would begin to glow and fall to the surface, or suddenly explode, or a section of the ground column would erupt in dust and flames. Since only one of the orbiting motherships was in position at any given time, its fire, which had been directed at the entrances of the hangers from which the Gath airships had emerged, concentrated on the column itself whenever in position. Additionally, the attack craft from the motherships added their support.
Sage had been watching the column for several minutes and the end had just come into sight. Counting the transport vehicles, and mentally calculating, she estimated the total number of Gath in the column must exceed 10,000, with well over 200 heavily armed assault vehicles similar to tanks offering protection. This didn't include the small, fast vehicles providing a protecting screen ahead of and to the sides of the column. The breakdown troops and civilians in the enclosed trucks was impossible to estimate,. While other columns had been observed leaving the Gath installations in the last several days, this was the first of this size. However, there could be others as well.
Command headquarters was concerned about the
movements, but was also seizing the opportunity to destroy any opened hangers as well as the Gath columns. Speculation was the Gath had somehow learned of how easily the fleet had disposed of their underground installations on the moon and were now dispersing to the foothills. If they dug in there in smaller groups it could be months, or even years, before they could be rooted out, and the task could be bloody. From the makeup of the column below they were both highly mobile and heavily armed making Kraa attacks impractical. This particular column appeared to be headed toward the foothills to the northeast, or at least they would pass near there if they continued in their present direction. She intended to follow to determine where it was headed and what its mission was.
Over the last several weeks the mapping teams had suffered losses, but they now had accurate coordinates of nearly all Gath facilities, allowing much more effective bombardment. Sage herself had been in constant motion, sometimes with a mapping team, sometimes with a small Torgai scout patrol.
Much of their success was due to the supporting Kraa who preyed on the Gath patrols whenever away from the main units, to which the Gath had responded by increasing the size of the patrols and launching occasional aircraft. However, launching aircraft played into the hands of the fleet, allowing destruction of many of the hangers, and few of the aircraft had been able to avoid being destroyed or stranded. But while the Gath suffered heavy losses from the Kraa, the Kraa losses had been massive. While no one knew the total number of packs destroyed, over 25% of those that had originally ventured into Gath territory had been decimated.
On the Stockholm . . . .
Admiral Lundblad sat in the overstuffed chair in the senior officer's lounge, intent on the papers scattered over the coffee table. He had changed from his uniform and was dressed in casual slacks and a short sleeved pullover shirt. Dr Gertrude Foley sat quietly in another chair, shuffling through some papers, smoking a cigarette.
It was just before midnight and the lounge was nearly empty except for several people in a sitting area a short distance away, with the only sounds their muffled conversation and the low background music. In front of them the observation bubble that took up much of the wall showed the curve of Alpha 2 below outlined against the star-studded sky. The planet was in complete darkness, no lights from either Gath or the colonist's installations visible.
A waiter in a white jacket walked quietly over and removed the empty beer mug sitting near Lundblad and replaced in with a full one, and went around the coffee table to place a mixed drink in front of Dr Foley.
Over the years Admiral Lundblad and Dr Foley had become close friends, since she was one of the few persons the Admiral could speak freely with and bounce ideas off, his position of command creating a distance between himself and his senior officers. He had grown to value her opinions highly and often discussed problems with her before reaching a decision, or even before consulting his staff officers. And now he was in the position of having to make a major decision, one upon which the success of the mission could depend.
Admiral Lundblad leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
"Gert," he asked, "how do we find out more about the Gath? We still know almost nothing about them."
Foley shrugged, "we're doing all we can. Our best linguists and their linguistic programs are on it, but progress is very slow."
Glancing over at Admiral Lundblad, "but there's progress. We have some of the words and language structure now, but not much. We'll get the rest; it’s only a matter of time."
Lundblad responded, "time we don't have."
Dr Foley nodded, then, "since parts of their language are sub-vocal, that is, it's below the frequency we can hear, it causes special problems for the linguists. It sounds more like a very 'unsettling' deep vibration. Any communication will have to be through the electronic translator since the frequency difference between Gath and human voices is so extreme. We've started to record fully all sounds they make so we don't lose anything, and even if we lose our captive Gath the linguists should be able to make progress."
"I wish I shared your confidence," Lundblad commented, "I heard three of the six we took alive have died. Any idea why?"
Foley shook her head, "sorry Sven, not a clue. It's not starvation, we salvaged enough of their foodstuffs and can synthesize those when we run out. We've created an atmosphere for them that's almost identical to what they had in their installation. It doesn't seem to be disease. It's something else."
Frowning, she added, "it may be some form of deficiency we just can’t detect. Something missing in either the diet or the atmosphere. Some have speculated it relates to the low gravity they have lived in for so long to which their bodies can't adapt, but that is unlikely since many of them have been here for years. But we don't know what. They just seem to lose interest in living and wither away."
“Some believe it could be something as simple as homesickness; loss of a will to live,” she added.
"Well," Lundblad said, "we have to know more about Beta 3 and the Gath civilization. With everything underground we still don't have the foggiest idea of how many Gath there are, or what their capabilities are."
"Except," Foley responded, "overpopulation is historically what leads to colonization and wars of expansion. If they needed Alpha 2 there's a good chance it was because Beta 3 is overpopulated, which means most likely there are several billion at least; possibly many, many billion."
Lundblad shrugged, “but what constitutes overpopulation? After all, how good is their underground food production? From what I've heard it’s far inferior to normal surface crops."
“True,” Foley answered, “but we know the Gath metabolism is very low; they can subsist on half the calories it takes for us in spite of their much larger mass. In fact,” she added, “some have speculated that they may spend much of their time in hibernation.”
Admiral Lundblad looked up as a young officer tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a message. He read the message, and quickly got up, motioning to Dr Foley to follow. "Some emergency," he said, "they want me in control right away."
Reaching the control room a short distance away, Admiral Lundblad and Dr Foley joined the officers watching the displays.
"The Gath are moving in force," a young officer bearing the insignia of Lt Commander said, "the sensors show large forces of shuttles and attack craft leaving the installations near the coast and heading westward out over the ocean."
The officer glanced at Admiral Lundblad, "it appears they've launched a major assault on the islands."
"Size and arrival time?" Lundblad asked quietly.
"About 600 total craft so far, but not sure of the attack ship/shuttle mix. Half and half as an initial guess. The shuttles should arrive in about three hours, the attack ships could be there about an hour sooner," the officer responded.
"Has a warning been sent?" Lundblad asked.
The officer nodded, "as soon as the movement was verified. President Murphy and Colonel Lopez are expected to be on the line in minutes."
Lundblad nodded, then turned to an ensign standing behind him, "summon the command staff immediately. I want them here in five minutes." Adding, "and Petri and Tom Ford."
Within minutes Generals Green and Solokov, Admirals Collins, Moreno, Sixkiller, and Honecker, and several other high-ranking officers started to filter into the room to join Admiral Lundblad and Dr Foley, who had taken seats at the conference table facing a display screen where President Murphy and Colonel Lopez were shown seated at a table. Few of those present were in uniform, most still in casual dress.
All were briefed on the situation.
"Can you send reinforcements?" Murphy asked, "we can't hold off anything that large. We have little protection from air assaults, and if there are on the order of 300 shuttles as you indicate, that could mean nearly 10,000 Gath troops. That’s far more than we can hope to handle."
Admiral Lundblad watched the screen, the others in the room watching Admiral Lundblad. For a time Lundblad
said nothing, his forehead creased in thought.
"We'll try to send some ground support, but it'll have to be limited," Lundblad responded, glancing over at General Green, "how fast could you get a small contingent, say two or three companies, down?"
General Green thought for a moment, "shortly behind the Gath; within an hour of their landing I'd say. But we'll need more information on their likely disposition and where we can safely come down.”
Tom Ford glanced over at General Green, "I can provide that. I know our current troop dispositions and where the safe havens are located, plus all the necessary routes."
General Green nodded, looking back at Admiral Lundblad, "but we can't do much against that number with just a few companies. Without heavy air support we're sitting ducks."
Admiral Lundblad nodded, "I have something else in mind, which may not allow us to spare more than that. Get that size unit and a couple hundred attack craft started immediately. Also," looking over at Admiral Collins, "I assume we destroyed the hangers when they were opened, but if not, concentrate on them. Then take out as many of the troop carriers as you can. Can we get the air support there before the Gath?"
"If we use those from the motherships that have optimum positioning. I'll issue an immediate order," Collins responded, motioning to his aid.
Lundblad nodded, and turned back to the screen, "I suggest you start an immediate evacuation. Get as many non-combatants off Santa Clara and Dominica as you can, and go to ground. You're going to have to handle it yourself with that limited support. We can also give you some bombardment support from the fleet; just inform us of where and when."
Adding, "you should have at least two hours before the landings start."
Murphy stared at Lundblad in consternation, as Colonel Lopez leaned forward as if to say something, stopped by President Murphy. The other officers in the control room all were watching Admiral Lundblad.
The Final Act: Book III: The Settlement Chronicals Page 7
