by B. V. Larson
“If this is some cadet’s idea of a joke, I’ll have him doing radiation inspections of the aft exhaust ports until he’s nothing but a mass of tumors,” he vowed.
“We do not require the surrender of your ship,” said the apparition on the holo-plate, “but you will give us four flitters suitable for a combat descent.”
Slowly, the reality of the situation dawned on the Captain. “What are you talking about? Are you one of those mad-dog machines?”
“I am Lieutenant Rem-9. I am assigned to Lucas Droad, Planetary Governor of Garm. My mission is to—”
“I don’t give a frig what your mission is!” shouted the Captain. “What are you doing in my engine room?”
With an air of tried patience, Rem-9 repeated the end of his statement. “My mission is to locate Lucas Droad and defend him from an unspecified emergency situation. You will provide me with four flitters, or we will perforate the stern engine cupola. The resulting lack of lift will cause the Gladius to sink into the atmosphere.”
“You’re mad! The ship would tear apart! It isn’t built for atmospheric pressures. We would all be crushed!”
The mech gave no sign of concern. “We will encapsulate ourselves in packing foam and eject during the reentry. Some of us may survive to achieve our mission.”
The Captain argued further, but the Rem-9 was adamant. He provided video feed proving his claims. High explosives taken from the dead security men were already wired into place. Remote control detonators were ready for use. The heavy blast shielding that surrounded the engine rooms had been lowered and sealed; there was no safe way to get at them in there.
Within minutes stark fear replaced outrage on the Captain’s face. If they wanted to, these crazy machines could bring down his ship. For the first time in many centuries of cyro-sleeping between star-systems, he saw the possible end of his career, even his life.
“I should never have come to this miserable system,” he lamented into his phone. “Give them the flitters.”
As soon as the order had been given, his fears redoubled. He sealed off his quarters and refused entry to everyone, including his Security Chief, although he dearly would have loved to discuss the high explosives with him. Foremost in his thoughts was Mai Lee’s reaction to all this. Vengeful and cruel, she had long arms and her agents were renown for showing up at the crucial moment. He put nothing beyond the reach of that cold witch.
* * *
“The Militia reservists are here, sir,” the orderly repeated for the third time.
General Ari Steinbach snorted, then rose up blearily. The coat he had been using as a blanket slipped off his chest and onto the floor of the limo. With a heavy sigh he blinked red-rimmed eyes at the setting sun outside.
After the abortive attack on the spaceport last night, things had reduced to the level of a slow siege. Neither side had made any serious moves toward resolving the issue. Ari had spent much of the night and the early morning calling up the militia commanders he could find, ordering them to mobilize every unit in the province. His alarm had increased steadily as he realized that most of the officers could not be found. In fact, every officer who had attended the Militiaman’s banquet last night was absent.
“Have any scouts returned from the Fort? What’s the situation up there?”
“Still unknown, sir. The earliest scouts we sent out last night disappeared, as you know,” said the lieutenant, absently sipping a cup of steaming hot caf. A light blanket of slushy snow coated the limo. Overhead the skies were still dark and pregnant, although there hadn’t been any snowfall in hours. “The most recent reports indicated that no one can get into the gates. Sniper fire has killed everyone attempting to enter the compound. KXUT claims the Fort, like the spaceport, is in the hands of Lucas Droad the ‘Pirate Governor’.”
“Well, it isn’t,” snapped Ari irritably. He took a proffered cup of hot caf and tossed it down. Donning his coat and stretching he marched for the lifters.
“Major Lee!” he shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to increase his volume. “Come out of there.”
Major Drick Lee slowly opened the pilot’s cupola and eyed the General with distaste. It appeared that he too, had been asleep.
“I need you to call that witch of an Aunt of yours and get some answers.”
Major Lee appeared disinterested. “Why don’t you call her?”
“Because she isn’t responding to my attempts. I know you have special methods.”
Major Lee gave him a dark look. “Are you accusing me of spying, sir?”
“Forget the semantics. We’re in a serious and incomprehensible situation. Who is in control of Fort Zimmerman? What are all these reports of animal attacks and alien invaders? What is going on out in the Slipape counties? Who is fighting whom, Major? I want answers.”
A tall man with severely short red hair and cold blue eyes crunched up through the snow to join them. An antiquated pipe stuck out of his mouth, inside it a stimulant burned, producing a cloud of bluish smoke.
Ari regarded him with little enthusiasm. “Yes?”
“Are we planning to assault the new Governor, sir? Because if we are, I can’t say that my men and I much like the idea.”
“No, we’re planning to take out one terrorist and self-proclaimed dictator,” replied Ari with sudden fury. Why was it that no one showed him the respect his uniform deserved? “And just exactly who are you?”
“Madison, sir. Militia reservist Captain, Company C, Group Five reporting sir,” answered the man in an unhurried fashion. “I’ve just come in from Hofstetten, and I couldn’t help overhearing that you don’t grasp the situation.”
Ari and Drick both looked at him in askance.
“They’re aliens, sirs,” the man said simply. He sucked on his pipe for a moment then relit it before continuing. “Aliens are all over Hofstetten, that’s why we were already mobilizing and why we got here ahead of most of the other units. Killed a lot of good people last night and today, cut off all our communications, too. The nets are down all over the colony.”
“And what do these aliens look like, commander?” asked Drick contemptuously.
“Sort of like fast air-swimmers, mostly, but they can drop snake-like things out of their bodies. There are other kinds, too, but the worst are the dinosaur-types. They run like ostriches and carry weapons like a man.”
Drick laughed.
“I must say that is a rather amazing story,” said Ari. “It seems remarkable that KXUT hasn’t reported any of these sightings, doesn’t it?”
The man pulled out his pipe, examined it closely, then placed it back in his mouth. “Not really. KXUT’s been off the net for hours. All they are playing now is pre-recorded stuff. It’s not even the right stuff, just yesterday’s daytime programming. No news reports, no live stuff at all.” The man turned and crunched back through the snow to his unit.
The officers frowned after him.
“Whatever is happening, we need to get this business with Droad over with so we can go handle it,” said Ari, rubbing his hands together. “Damn, I’m beginning to wish I’d called in sick this week.”
Major Lee nodded in agreement. “I’ll try to contact the senator. She may know something.”
“If she doesn’t, then no one does. I’ll gather up the men. We have an army of militia troops now and the 1st tactical squad is up to full strength, although God only knows where the 2nd squad is. Let’s finish this thing with Droad.”
He moved off and soon had two ragged lines of six full militia companies formed up. He ordered them to attack in waves, the first leading the second by two minutes. Ahead of the first wave was the 1st tactical squad, eager for a rematch with Droad’s giants.
Hundreds of men moved through the parking lots, firing as they came. The fresh white snow was trampled to gray slush, then splattered red in places as return fire found targets.
“We have overwhelming numbers. We can’t lose,” whispered Ari, half to himself. He eagerly trained his
goggles on the area of the baggage lockers in the arrivals section. Already he was planning how to get back his satchel in a smooth manner that would arouse no undue suspicion.
Drick, standing at his side, commented, “You seem unusually eager to see this battle through, General.”
“It’s my job,” answered Ari.
“Yes, but it just doesn’t seem like you—”
He broke off at the screaming sound of missiles in flight.
“The missile batteries have finally opened up!” shouted Drick exuberantly.
“No, damn it, no!” hissed Ari through clenched teeth. He hunkered down and focused his goggles on the front walls of the terminal building, fully expecting to see them disintegrate in a fireball. But instead of falling on the spaceport, sounds of explosions erupted from downtown Grunstein. He looked that way and his mouth gaped in amazement. The top third of the KXUT building, including the dish and the transmitter had been blown completely away.
His surprise increased into shock as he saw a squadron of Stormbringers lift off vertically from the Zimmerman field on the fort grounds and turned northward. Two of them broke off and zoomed over the city, where they began methodically bombing the commercial district. The rest headed off in the direction of the Slipape counties.
Then, explosions rocked the heavy struts of the lifter he was leaning on, causing him to jerk his gaping head around the other way. The cars in the parking lot were blossoming into red flowers. The leading militia riflemen of the first wave dissolved, like insects caught by the sudden gushing of a blowtorch.
* * *
With a flourish, the doctor removed the sheet covering the thing on the table. “Quite a monster, eh?” said Doctor Risi with something akin to pride. He watched their reactions while tapping his right forefinger against his teeth.
Governor Droad grunted and Jarmo wrinkled his great nose.
“So, it is your belief that this creature is alien to Garm?” asked Droad. His eyes moved up and down the disgusting mess that covered the stainless steel table. At the damaged head section, an incision began that ran the length of the thing’s brown, fleshy belly. Bizarre organs and thick rubbery muscles lay exposed to the harsh glare of the doctor’s surgical lamp. He was reminded distinctly of the parasitic worms and sea slugs he had dissected in college.
“Absolutely. There is no record of anything like this organism in the colony files, nor in the Nexus Cluster records,” replied the doctor. He was short, wiry little man with odd fingers that seemed overly long and delicate even for his small hands. The tips of these fingers tapered to elfin points and each of his fingernails was precisely cut.
“What is it then?”
“I haven’t come up with a name for it yet, but when I do I’ll let you know,” said the doctor, smiling. Droad shot him questioning side-glance, but he seemed not to notice. “I can tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t a snake, nor any kind of reptile. It’s more like a hot-blooded caterpillar with an extremely large brain and a lot of organs that I’ve yet to analyze.”
“What about the radio emissions?” demanded Jarmo, intrusively leaning over the mound of twisted flesh on the table. “That’s what interests me most. Have you discovered yet how they do it?”
The doctor raised one fingertip between himself and Jarmo’s looming face. He was clearly not intimidated. “I was just getting to that. The thing definitely has a built-in organic radio, just as we surmised from the security system records.”
The finger dived downward like a pointer, aiming into the damaged head area. “I found it here, near the brain, just below where the ear would be on most earth species. Fortunately, the crude methods used to kill the creature didn’t destroy it.”
“And so Jarmo was right? This thing can use radio waves to communicate the way we use sound waves?” asked Droad, shaking his head in amazement.
“An assumption, but probably a safe one. With only the crudest of lab equipment available here at the spaceport, I can’t tell you much more. Certainly it can receive such transmissions, and it would only make sense that it should be able to transmit them as well.”
Droad stepped back from the table and urged the doctor to continue his research. Together, he and Jarmo headed back toward the security center. “What do you think Jarmo?”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. It would seem most likely that our opponents set this thing to spy on us or to assassinate you. We know little about how powerful the elite on Garm really are. Do they have a source of bio-weapons like this? I would give a lot to know where it came from.”
“There is another possibility,” said Droad. “Recall the earlier declarations made by the newsies. All that talk about an alien invasion up in the hills.”
“That sort of thing makes good video,” replied Jarmo.
“Yes, but that thing on the table is quite real.”
The two of them reached the security center and settled down to rest a bit. Soon it would be nightfall again, and as the militia units outside were growing in strength, they expected an attack soon after dark. The primary topic of conversation, even more vital than the alien from the restrooms, was the disposition of the mechs in the hold of the Gladius.
“We have to assume they aren’t coming,” said Droad, sitting with his boots on Major Lee’s desk and sipping another mug of hot caf. There was a special flavor in the Garmish variety that he couldn’t quite identify, but which he was beginning to appreciate.
“Although I am generally the conservative one here,” said Jarmo, “I wouldn’t count them out by any means. Rem-9 is intelligent, experienced and more than competent. More importantly, they’re mechs. A bunch of security men and sleeper agents on the ship should not be able to take them out.”
Droad frowned into his steamy mug. “One well-placed explosive on each of those shipping capsules would do it, though. We checked them right before we came down, but it’s obvious now that the rulers here were onto us from the start.”
Jarmo opened his mouth to comment further but was stopped by an echoing explosion from the front of the terminal. The men leapt to their feet and went out into the main room. Sergeant Manstein was there, looking over the shoulders of an operator.
“They’re coming back for more, sir,” he said as Droad entered the room.
On the main screens a wave of riflemen, led by a knot of men in black body-shell charged through the parking lot. Gun muzzles flashed and plasma bursts blossomed.
“They’re serious this time. Sergeant, take everyone you can gather and head for the arrivals level. Jarmo and I will take over here,” said Droad. “Jarmo?”
Jarmo was working with the radar techs. He turned around at the Governor’s call. “I don’t know for sure, sir, but I think the mechs may finally be coming down.”
For the first time in hours, Droad felt himself smile. It felt good.
“You see their jump-flitters?”
“No, but we have picked up four flitters, coming right on us from the Gladius. Unless the Captain has decided to join the battle, I think it’s a safe bet that the mechs will add their weight shortly.”
Droad nodded. “How long until they get here?”
“About ten minutes.”
Droad returned his attention to the monitors. The men in body-shell had reached the terminal entrance already. Behind them, the line of riflemen was even more ragged, but still moving forward. One of the monitors went dark as a security camera was hit and rendered inoperable.
“I don’t think we have ten minutes. They’re going to overrun us.”
“Governor—ah, there’s something else, sir. Something is coming up the river.”
“What?”
“The river borders the spaceport, sir. There’s nothing down there but some reeds and a chain link fence, but the security system is monitoring a fault of some kind, a violation.”
“Are they coming at us in boats, too?” demanded Droad with a hint of exasperation in his voice. He felt himself losing control of the s
ituation. It was slipping from his grasp like a handful of water. What an ignoble way to end his short term in office, hunted down and slaughtered by a pack of jax herders with laser rifles, hiding beneath a desk. At least the previous Governor had lasted nearly a month.
“Not boats, sir. Here, I’ll patch it through to the main holo-plate.”
The riflemen vanished and an image of the riverfront shimmered into existence. It zoomed into focus. Wide and sluggish, the river was cold-looking and littered with floating debris. Droad squinted. No, not debris—upside-down boats, that was his first impression. Then one of the boats raised up out of the water, turning into a gigantic head. One mammoth dark eye swiveled about, and then the head sank back down. From another of the submerged heads fountained a fine white mist. Droad was reminded of an extinct earth species, what were they called? Whales?
“What the hell are those?”
But Jarmo was too busy bringing up more strange images to answer him. Set beside the riverfront view, the angles of other cameras shifted and focused automatically, panning with sickening speed. To the left of the giant heads in the river was now a flock of odd, stingray-like things in the air, flying out of the cover of the trees. To the right of the river scene, and most alarming, a column of humanoid creatures where depicted running up, no bounding up the colonial highway toward the spaceport’s front gates.
“What the hell are all these things?” demanded the Governor. He slammed his fists against the console. This was intolerable. The situation was getting completely out of control. “What in the hell is going on?”
“There’s more sir, Fort Zimmerman is firing its missile batteries on the city. Stormbringers are joining in the attack, bombing the downtown section,” said Jarmo. He looked at Droad, waiting for orders.
“Unbelievable. No time to think about it.” Droad paused, thinking despite his words. Were the aliens with Steinbach or against him? If they were with them, they had little hope of survival. If they were against him, they were in such numbers that he needed all Steinbach’s men plus his men and the mechs to face this new threat. It occurred to him that leading the militia and his own men in a joint effort to stop an alien attack was an excellent way to cement his position as the new governor.
