"Holy shit." I had thought satellites would be wimpy things. My idea of a satellite was a box with solar panels that allowed me to watch football games.
"Oh, very naughty! Two of the satellites are preparing to fire on a city called Mumbai, there is a large protest there against the Kristang. Colonel," I could tell from the tone of voice that Skippy was being serious for a moment, "those satellites, and the frigate, have been busy suppressing attempted rebellions all over the planet. Human casualties are estimated in the millions. The frigate has caused extensive damage to major cities with railgun strikes."
I pounded my fist down on the Big Red Button in anger, not thinking what I was doing. "How many Kristang are down there?"
"One thousand, four hundred and twenty three Kristang, mostly in seven compounds. Twelve of their dropships are currently in the air."
I leaned forward tensely, looking at the display, not realizing my right fist was resting on the Big Red Button. "We need to keep that troop ship, but that damned frigate I'd like to jump into the Sun. Can you retarget those satellites to hit the Kristang compounds, and their dropships?"
There were bright flares across the planet, and I could see the troop ship shudder, as it looked like lizard bodies were blown out airlocks. The troops ship also blossomed a salvo of missiles, which curved down toward the planet and slammed forward, rapidly becoming burning streaks through the atmosphere.
"Done." Skippy announced. "Kristang population is now seven hundred twenty one. Ah! Missiles impacting, and, ok, population is one hundred seventy two. Wait. Ha! Got those buggers!" There was another bright flare from a satellite. "Satellite went over the horizon, I had to defract the maser beam. One hundred sixty four."
"What?"
"You told the system to fire."
"I didn't-" right then, I realized my hand was resting on the button. "Shit! Skippy, I asked if you could do it, I didn't tell you to actually do it!"
"Oops."
"Oops? Skippy, that is one big fucking oops."
"You didn't want me to jump that frigate into the core of the local star, either? Because I can't undo that one. In a couple million years, the atoms of that frigate will emerge up into the photosphere, but that Humpty Dumpty can't be put together again."
"We need to work on our communication."
"Noted."
I shifted my attention back to the troop carrier. "What happened over there?"
"That ship was absolutely infested with lizards, ugh, disgusting. I had to fumigate it with explosive decompression. There are four still alive over there, stubborn damned things." Skippy sounded frustrated. He could probably kill those four lizards, but that could require him to damage the ship that I wanted to keep intact.
I involuntarily shuddered, thinking of Skippy's immense power, and how badly things could go wrong if I failed to pay attention again. I needed to put a cover on that Big Red Button, so I would have to flip up the cover, the next time I wanted to use it. "You have complete control? The lizards can't hurt any humans right now?"
"Right now, I imagine they are too busy pissing in their pants to think about doing anything else. I also took the liberty of shutting down the Kristang projects to modify your best agricultural land for their use. And I fried all their computer systems. Whatever they're going to do, they'll be doing it without much electronics."
"Great, thank you." I rubbed my face and closed my eyes for a moment. Over two thousand lizards, snuffed out in a moment, with their own weapons. When I looked up, Simms' eyes were as big as saucers.
"Did that really happen?" Simms asked, astonished.
I nodded, and pointed to the view of the troop ship, now surrounded by a cloud of flash-frozen lizard bodies. "And over a thousand Kristang dead, on the planet." For some reason, up here, it felt more natural to say 'the planet' than 'Earth'. It had been a while since I'd seen the place, anyway.
People nodded at me through the glass. "That's a good start," Major Simms observed. I agreed.
Perhaps decent, ordinary people would be horrified by such death and destruction. Speaking for our merry band of pirates, we had no sympathy for the lizards. If what we'd heard about the situation on Earth, what the lizards had been doing to people and the biosphere was true, then the lizards' whole species could go fuck itself.
"Skippy, can you contact the United States government? I need to talk to someone in authority."
"Certainly. One moment. Go ahead."
"Hello?" A female voice I vaguely recognized came out of the speakers. "Who is this?" She sounded surprised.
"Uh, who is this?"
"You called me. Where did you get this number?" The voice demanded.
And I remembered with shock where I'd heard that voice before. I'd never heard that voice so haggard, so worn down with despair.
"Skippy," I said in a harsh whisper, "what the hell did you do?"
"You wanted to talk to the American government, so I dialed your president's personal encrypted cell phone."
I shook my fist at his shiny cylinder. We seriously needed to work on our communication. "Uh, ma'am, Madame President, this is colonel, I mean, sergeant, Joe Bishop, US Army, formerly with the 10th infantry division. We've captured a Kristang troop ship, and a frigate, and a Thuranin star carrier, we're now in orbit, and we just killed all but one hundred sixty four-"
"Plus the four on the troop ship." Skippy chided.
"-all but one hundred sixty eight Kristang on or around Earth, and we have control of their remaining ship, and their satellites."
There was a long pause, with voices talking in the background. "Quiet! Mister Bishop, is it? My military aide is telling me there were satellite strikes around the planet, but all against Kristang installations. I thought the Thuranin were patrons of the Kristang? Kindly tell me what is going on." She sounded shaken.
I let out a long breath. "It is a very long story, ma'am. The important facts are that the Kristang no longer have control of Earth, and there won't be any Kristang reinforcements coming, because we shut down the local wormhole. "
"Hey! Don't forget about me!" Skippy spoke up. "I'm the hero of this story, you're only the plucky sidekick who provides comic relief."
"Who is that speaking?" The president asked.
Oh, what the hell. I was tired. "Ma'am, that is a chrome plated beer can named Skippy.” I paused to consider that was certainly the first time anyone had ever said that to an American president. “He's a several million years old artificial intelligence, who makes the Thuranin look like not so clever pond slime by comparison."
"Pthththth." Skippy made a raspberry noise. "Please, they're not even that smart."
It was the president’s turn to let out a long breath into the phone. "I'm getting a headache again."
"Like I said, ma'am, it's a long story. We need to talk."
"Also, we need pizza!" Skippy added. "Not for me, but our merry band of pirates here needs pizza. And cold brewskis! Party on, dudes!"
"Merry band of pirates?" The president asked.
I was getting a headache, too.
After the President handed me off to an aide to discuss details, and we agreed on terms for bringing our pirate crew home, I checked the main display again. “Skippy, are we safe? Are there any Kristang or Thuranin ships heading our way?” I still couldn’t interpret the displays. The displays looked empty, except for the Kristang troop ship and the Dutchman. And the moon, I guessed was the big blob on the display.
“Not according to the databanks on their command ship over there. The next Thuranin carrier was scheduled to come though the wormhole in ten days. That won’t happen now. But it’s possible there are ships out there, that their command didn’t think the Kristang here needed to know about.”
“Colonel Chang, Major Simms?” I saluted both. Now that we were home, my theater rank was annulled, and I had reverted back to my regular Army rank of sergeant. They both knew that. For me, I couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. “Someone needs
to go down to Earth and brief our leadership. Skippy, can you fly a dropship remotely? We’ll need to bring people down to Beijing, Dehli, London and DC, and none of us know how to fly a Kristang or Thuranin shuttle. Our Dodo is busted.”
“And Paris.” Giraud reminded me.
“And Paris.” I’d forgotten about Giraud, our only French pirate. "And we need to be extra careful with the wounded." Everyone who had been wounded in capturing the Flower and raiding the asteroid base were now out of sickbay and on their feet, some of them with Thuranin portable medical devices still attached. Walorski's forearm was due to be released from the healing sleeve in a week. Chang's ribs were technically healed, Skippy said the bones had knitted together, although Chang told me it still hurt like hell when he took a deep breath. To me, it was a miracle of Thuranin medical technology, or a miracle from Skippy, that everyone who had been injured would be making a full recovery.
“I can fly multiple dropships remotely,” Skippy responded as if it were the easiest thing in the universe, “no need for people to fly all over the planet in one ship. But after the ships land and people get out, I’m locking the doors. Can’t have you monkeys, you know, monkeying with them.”
“Understood. Other than me, is there anyone else we should leave aboard?” I looked around at our soon to disperse merry band of pirates.
“Why are you remaining aboard?” Chang asked before Skippy could.
“Sir, if a Kristang ship jumps into orbit, Skippy and I need to be here to defend Earth.” I pointed to the Big Red Button.
“No we don’t. I want to see Earth, and not only from orbit!” Skippy insisted. “I can control this ship from anywhere down there.”
Simms spoke up. “The fire control button is here on this ship, sir.” It took me a moment to realize she had addressed the ‘sir’ to Skippy, rather than me.
“Oh, screw that!" Skippy scoffed. "Colonel Joe, I just loaded a Big Red Button app on your zPhone. Press that anywhere on Earth, and we’re weapons free.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I’m a sergeant again now, not a colonel. And I don’t see it.”
Skippy sighed. “Is it called a smart phone because it’s smarter than the user? It’s on the last screen of apps, between your two versions of solitaire, and that birds game you never play anymore.”
“I’ve been kind of busy.” I saw the app, titled Big Red Button. It was hard to miss. “Shouldn’t this app be on the first screen?”
“Joe, Joe, Joe. We don’t want you butt dialing the weapons, and accidentally destroying, oh, say, Canada.”
“Shit!” I held the zPhone away from me. “That could happen?”
“Unlikely, since I program the weapons, you only press the button to authorize their use. However, we’ve had communications problems, as you say, so….”
“Sergeant Bishop, I would feel more comfortable if you, and, uh,” Simms struggled to think of a way to avoid saying Skippy’s name, “Mister Skippy, came with me, to brief our leadership. Including the president, who you already know, apparently?” She didn’t look happy about that.
Chang leaned toward Simms. “I do not agree that the device,” he pointed at Skippy, “should be the de facto property of America. As the ranking UNEF officer-“
“You’re not my ranking officer, Changy-boy. Colonel Joe is still the captain of this pirate crew.” Skippy said, with a distinctly unfriendly tone. “And calling me ‘the device’ is not the way to get on my good side. Before you say something else stupid, I’m not the property of anyone, and I'll probably be asked to visit China while I’m here, so your scientists will have plenty of opportunity to ask me the same dumbass questions the Americans are going to ask me. Now, apologize to me and Colonel Joe, or your dropship may end up in the Gobi desert, by mistake.”
“No apology needed, sir.” I hastened to say. Chang, was, after all, a real lieutenant colonel, and a good guy. Damn. Closing the wormhole and beating the Kristang may have been the easy part.
Chang bowed slightly. “I do apologize, Mister Skippy, no offense was intended. My intention was to ensure the rights of China are properly considered.”
Skippy sighed again. This was getting to be a habit. “Believe me, I have no interest in helping one group of monkeys down there gain an advantage over the others. You can whack each other with sticks all you want when I’m not around. If you have more brains than an amoeba, you may want to focus your energy on repairing the damage the Kristang did to your planet. I’m just sayin’.”
"Sir?" Sergeant Adams addressed her question to Chang. "Can we contact our families?"
Skippy spoke privately into my earpiece. "Colonel Joe, your family is safe and sound, but that's not true of the families and friends of the entire crew. I'd be careful about comms for now. I just told the same thing to Chang. Except I also told him that his father's brother was killed by the Kristang."
Through the glass, I saw Chang touch his earpiece, nod, frown, then look at me. He addressed the whole crew. "We don't know the situation down there yet, and now that we're back, we fall under the authority of our home governments. They will likely want to maintain operational security for the immediate future. I'm sure we will all be briefed after we land."
My brief fantasy of dramatically landing a Thuranin dropship on the White House lawn were quickly dashed, as the White House, and much of DC, had been damaged in Kristang 'anti-traitor actions'. The US Federal government headquarters was now located in Colorado Springs, on the site of what used to be the Air Force Academy, behind heavy fortifications. Skippy was all for blowing over the academy at hypersonic speed, utilizing the full stealth capabilities of a Thuranin dropship, then curving around and landing wherever the hell he felt like, to let the American government know right from the start how powerless they were. I pointed out that I was enlisted in the US Army, and had taken an oath to protect and defend the constitution of the United States, and therefore the legally elected government of the nation technically had authority over me, so the request by the president that we follow the US Air Force's designated flight path was, in effect, an order I was bound to obey. That was a long and convoluted conversation, which revealed more about Skippy than it did about me or the United States. Skippy begrudgingly programmed the autopilot for a totally unnecessarily shallow entry profile, dropping into the atmosphere over the Marshall Islands of the Pacific, and accepting an 'escort' by a pair of F-22 Raptors over the California coast. Skippy was right, even though the Raptors were pushing their limits in supersonic cruise, it felt like we were barely crawling though the sky. I did get a good view of Yosemite national park, though, so the extra flight time wasn't totally wasted.
On the ground, we were met by Secret Service agents brandishing automatic weapons, who ordered us to proceed down the ramp slowly, one by one. That got Major Simms annoyed, she told the agents to lower their weapons, before the super AI who had wiped out the Kristang in less than ten seconds grew annoyed. When they hesitated, Simms asked if they really thought 9MM ammo was a threat to Skippy. Man, she was pissed. The rifle barrels were held at half staff after that. I came down the ramp after the officers and Staff Sergeant Adams, having reverted to my regular army rank of sergeant. Rather than stuffing Skippy into a rucksack, I held him in my left hand in front of me, in what I intended as a position of honor. He was damned heavy, I wondered if he were adjusting his mass to screw with me. The Secret Service, due to their protective detail training, were not about to let a potentially dangerous object near the president, until Skippy cut through the bullshit and called the president directly on her encrypted cellphone. She walked out the doorway of the former academy commandant's residence, and shook her head at the lead agent, who let us all through, against what was clearly his better judgment. When the agents tried to restrict the welcoming party to me and the officers, I put a quick stop to that with an angry gesture, and waved the enlisted people forward. That drew a quick laugh from the president, who had done the exact same thing at the exact same tim
e. And that was the beginning of me and the president hitting it off quite well, which was fortunate for me. Behind us, medical people hurried aboard the dropship to help the wounded crew down the ramp.
The president acknowledged Major Simms and other officers, but made a beeline for me, her presence clearing the way without needing to ask people to move aside. The breeze blew her hair across her eyes, and she brushed it away with a well-practiced gesture. "Mister Bishop." Her eyes were drawn to the unusual unit insignia on my right shoulder. "Is that a, a paisley with an eyepatch?"
Dammit. We had completely forgotten about Skippy's idea for our pirate flag. Now I felt like an complete idiot. This woman was in charge of America's nuclear arsenal. If we still had a nuclear arsenal, that is, things might have changed. "Sort of, ma'am."
"It's not a paisley, it's a paramecium." Skippy said.
"Am I speaking to the being Mister Bishop calls Skippy?" The president asked, her eyes darting to her advisors, who hovered discretely.
"The one and only, that's me."
"Then Skippy is a nickname." The president smiled at Skippy, then looked at me. "Tell me, Mister Bishop, what do you call me?"
I momentarily panicked. "Uh, Commander in Chief, ma'am?"
She laughed. "That will do, but it's rather long. Madame President will do for now. There is a story behind the paramecium?"
How do I tell the president of the United States that a chromed-plated beer can thinks our entire species, including her, are only slightly more intelligent than bacteria? It would be best to start with some background. "Ma'am-"
Skippy cut me off. "It's sort of a joke. Colonel Joe suggested that one of his moderately less stupid ideas meant your species is slightly more intelligent than bacteria. I grudgingly agreed you might, might, be comparable to a paramecium. The jury's still out on that one."
Or I could have blurted it out like a four-year-old, as Skippy did! The president took it in stride. I guess years of political campaigns had given her a thick skin. "I certainly hope we will impress you enough, during your time here, that you may compare us to a higher organism, perhaps, algae?"
Columbus Day (Expeditionary Force Book 1) Page 43
