Staring into the face of some airhead reporter did nothing to ease Alexander’s blood pressure. He felt his fake smile waning, his jaw aching from the effort. The stuffed suit wore his makeup with much more ease and comfort, and his hair was combed to shining perfection. Even his teeth were just right, not too shiny to seem fake but set just in place. There is an occupying force on one of the colonies, but I still have to play court jester and dance for the crowd. Fucking insufferable. He took a breath and found his train of thought.
“So, Mr. Burton, the nominee for Attachéis a criminal?”
“That’s correct, John,”Alexander said. He made sure to make eye contact with the camera.“Many citizens are unaware of Brent Kerrigan’s ties to the terrorist group Red Hammer. He has been a part of their network for almost five years, working to legitimize them to the rest of the galaxy. He was arrested on Kronos only a few months ago after the bloody attack on the Galactic Media Tower.”
“Though he was released only hours later,”John said quickly.“In fact, the military said that the evidence presented to them that led to his arrest had been mostly fabricated. Evidence, it should be said, that seemed to originate from one of your staffers, Mr. Burton.”
It stung to be called“Mister.”Few reporters liked Alexander, and fewer still used his title when addressing him.“Be that as it may, John, it doesn’t change the fact that Brent Kerrigan is an admitted member of several Martian separatist groups. There are videos of him speaking treason against the Centurial Council. Red Hammer is turning the most important election in the galaxy into a circus, and we’re all lining up to see the show.”
“That is true, Mr. Burton. The Red Hammer has certainly been promoting this election in an unusual way.”The reporter turned to address the camera directly.“For those of you just tuning in, we are live with High Chancellor Alexander Burton, as he defends his position on the revolution that is sweeping planet Earth.”
“Rebellion,”Alexander growled.“This is a terrorist insurrection.”
“Please, Mr. Burton. We don’t like to use such invective on this network. We’re trying to see this objectively.”
The politician was momentarily at a loss for words.“How can you be so blind? Jonah and his thugs already took credit for the bombings in New York and Cairo and two dozen other cities. Thousands died because of Red Hammer’s attack. And now, because they’re putting on a nice face and saying‘democratic elections,’you’re giving them a pass?”His face reddened.“Kerrigan is at the very least a terrorist sympathizer, and no fit for the highest office on our most important world.”
The reporter smiled. Alexander was easy to rile up, and those at this level of the media knew the buttons and when to push.“AttachéPaylok hasn’t matched your indignation in condemning her challenger, Mr. Burton. In fact, this may mark the first time she has opted to refrain from making some form of commentary about an election. Perhaps she is finally learning a little tact and restraint in her old age?”
It was a shameless ploy, but Alexander bit.“She is a sitting diplomat, you arrogant little twerp. Have a little respect for the people above you. Politicians can’t be concerned with making friends or winning congeniality contests. The fate of planets rest in the decisions we make daily. The average citizen wouldn’t last a day under that kind of pressure. Of course they’ll get their foot in their mouth every once in a while. Put a microphone in anyone’s face twenty-four hours a day and you’ll catch them saying something or other that will annoy the general public. People are so easy to offend these days. You can't fart without starting a goddamn global scandal.
“New Eden is under martial law, did you know that? Have you eve reported that? We have a goddamn Boxti invasion force in a stalemate with Fleet, a biological weapon that we can’t seem to control, and the entire Nangolani navy urging us to blast those bastards off the planet. Do you have a camera crew filming the quarantine at Ciudad Mapache? Have you seen what the alien spores do to one-tenth the population? No. Because an intergalactic war was last year’s news. You’ve moved on to something better: the fall of the infant government.
"It's fine for the media to speak their minds and have opinions, but we'reexpected to act like goddamn saints. Hell, Rogan had his share of skeletons in the closet, and he was one of the most beloved Attachés in history. But since Paylok doesn't subscribe to your particular point of view, she has to be demonized for every flaw and misstep. Kerrigan, on the other hand, says all the right things to keep the drooling masses happy, so they'll ignore the fact that he is a noted terrorist and rebel sympathizer. Christ, it's easy to understand why Norton started an empire rather than continue that farce of a republic."
Backstage, Jerry practically fell out of his chair.“Jesus,”he exclaimed.“Did he really just say that?”
“On live television,”Arthur said smugly.“Now we’re in for it.”
Jerry stared at the monitor, head aching as he watched the leader of the free world be walked around the conversation like a dog in a show. Still, he couldn’t help but notice, out of the corner of his eye, the cocksure look Arthur wore. It was almost as if he enjoyed the spectacle.
In the studio, the reporter looked nonplussed and continued to wear his cheap smile while telling the viewers they were taking a quick commercial break. The lights dimmed and a stage director signaled a two-minute break. John leaned in, his cologne reeking, and grinned maliciously.
“You were saying something about putting your foot in your mouth, sir?”
Alexander’s blood boiled.
- III -
It was quiet, and in combat that was never a good sign.
Sitting on the roof of the commander's tank, Zev surveyed the battlefield. The minutes after the spores were released remained a blur in his mind. He remembered donning his protective gear and sprinting back toward the trucks so fast his lung burned. By the time he’d reached the vehicle and they’d activated the air filtration system, the word had gone out over the net. At the time, Zev had called it a chemical attack. The truth was far more horrifying. Inside the red mist were microscopic creatures, an alien biological agent that consumed whatever it touched. It didn’t take much to keep it out. If someone wore nothing but plastic wrap they would survive. But if it touched skin, nothing could save them. Only a few particles were needed to completely takeover the body.
He’d heard the fight start in the sky. The explosions carried down from miles overhead, visible even in the bright day. It was a short lived skirmish, but the damage was immense. Five frigates, three destroyers and a dozen fighters were lost in the battle. Midway was shattered but still floating, and Valley Forge limped on. Ten more ships had to be scuttled after engineers discovered extensive core fractures. Everything froze after Admiral Walker sent out a cease fire. A Boxti message had arrived shortly after, announcing that they would send an emissary to meet with human leadership to negotiate an end to hostilities. No one, save the politicians who demanded the cease fire, believed a word of it.
Zev didn’t have any time to debate, as his shit storm had just started. The spores didn’t always kill what they contacted. Once the microscopic creatures inside the cloud latched on, they mutated their new host. While the Boxti creatures started building fortifications and walls to surround their citadel, the Terrans were attacked by what had been, until moments earlier, wild animals.
Dogs appeared, charging the line of infantry like crazed beasts. The spores had caused gross mutations. Muscles burst through their skin, spilling frothy pink ooze down their flanks. Their jaws had expanded to accommodate larger rows of spiny teeth. They brayed and roared as they closed ranks and leapt into the air, hungry for blood. It took three men’s dying screams before the rest of the battalion opened fire.
Other creatures appeared: Horses, birds, wild cats and the enormous metasloths indigenous to the region. Each had been twisted into perverse abominations, tumbling toward the frontline in a churning mass of limbs and antlers and fangs. Had it not been for incredible disci
pline, the line would have simply turned into a battle charge to clear the planet’s surface of any alien presence.
Zev looked over his shoulder at the pile of the otherbodies. It hadn’t just been animals affected by the cloud. While most humans died within minutes of contact with the spores, around one-in-ten survived long enough for the parasites to take hold. His friends, his brother soldiers, had risen from their painful seizures and attacked. Driven mad by the alien virus, and reformed into lumbering monsters, the infected drove a nail deep into the psyche of the combat force. It wasn’t enough to have the planet seemingly rebel against them, but their own kind as well. After laying their brethren to rest, the soldiers gathered them in lines.
A pyro unit marched along the field, scorching the earth with flamethrowers. Even now, just covering the ground like a morning dew, the spores were deadly. Scientists had collected many to study, but considered their eradication a necessity. The soldiers remained in full MOPP gear, or Mission Oriented Protective Posture. The suits added weight to an already hefty load, and turned to ovens under the blazing sun. It was like being back on Kronos all over again.
Holding the ground wasn’t difficult. The Boxti made no attempt at spreading further than the reach of their battlements. And it wasn’t as though there weren’t more important tasks to accomplish. The plague had spread far beyond the initial landing zones. Much of Fort Metts lay in ruin, the streets crawling with marauding bands of things borne from nightmares. Most of the remaining forces on post conducted search-and-destroy missions. Special Forces units from the elite Team Hercules patrolled the area with another task, attempting to capture one of the infected for study. Beyond the fortified walls of the base, the nearby suburban sprawl was ablaze as panicked citizens attempted to flee their mutated neighbors. Many of the early victims ducked into their homes after coming in contact with the cloud, some spreading it to other members of the household. Now these buildings were time bombs waiting to unleash their hostile payload. No one awaited that chore eagerly.
General Casey, acting as commander of all ground troops on the planet, coordinated the rescue efforts with the civilian government. While some of the other units had broken during the biological attack, the Black Adders had rallied. They formed squad-sized rescue units and drove deep into quarantine zones in search of survivors. It was slow and bloody work, and each infected human killed felt more like defeat than victory. Across the planet, the military waited for the go ahead to turn their weapons around toward the true enemy.
“Sergeant,”Captain Grahams called out.“A word.”
Zev shook from his thoughts, setting the binoculars down on the turret roof. He watched the mirrors in the gunner’s sight casing, known as the“dog house,”twitch and jerk around. No doubt the sergeant inside was searching for a target amidst the activity on the ground. If only the order to open fire would come, the line of Shivas would unleash a wall of flame and death upon the enemy. The thought warmed Zev as he dropped down the side of the tank to meet his commander.
“Yes, sir,”Zev said, brushing dirt off his MOPP leggings. The area had been scrubbed ten times over, but spores continued to crop up. It had become second nature to check every time he touched a surface.
Grahams sucked on the water line inside his mask, scrunching his face in disgust at the taste.“These filters are old as shit. I think I have carbon in my teeth.”He rolled his eyes.“Can’t wait to get out of this suit.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Right.”The captain walked to the front of the tank, motioning for Zev to follow. A map had been rolled out on the front slope of the hull armor. Scans of the Boxti Hive had led to a series of blueprints. Sections of the structure were divided off and color-coded to match particular units. Grahams pointed to a wedge of honeycombed infrastructure circled in red.“Command is drawing up the plans for assault, when it comes. Our unit is being tasked with the main gate. We want to blow a hole in their fort big enough to fly a cruiser through.”
Zev looked unconvinced.“Fleet has enough trouble putting holes in their carriers. How are we going to do that with a barrage of 205s?”
“That’s the beauty part,”Grahams said.“Valley Forgeis going to knock on the door with Thunder and Lightning.”
Now that got his attention.“An orbital bombardment? This close to friendly lines?”He shook his head.“That’s batshit crazy, sir. Some Admiral with a hard-on for the big guns who’s too young to remember how many soldiers died from friendly fire back on Mars.”
“Those were sectional fire solutions from frigates and destroyers. Not cruisers, sergeant, and not one with PACs. The rounds don’t have time to stray off target, and they can be guided in by LDAG.”
Zev had to concede the point. Laser Directed Arms Guidance packages made orbital bombardments marginally safer for those on the ground. Not that it was much comfort when the kill zone for a single PAC consumed almost the entire battlefield. Still, better odds than trying to open up that ship by knocking lightly on the front door.
“How are things at Metts?”
The commander’s shoulders dropped.“Bad. Best estimate is sixty percent of the population infected, with most of that comprising the civilians on post. It’s harder to sanitize the area when it includes people's wives and children.”
“Have the lab coats had any luck with their specimens?”
“Mostly no.”Grahams rolled up the blueprints and stuffed them into his bag.“The spores are something unlike any species we’ve ever seen. They figure it would take years to figure out how they even work, let alone find a cure.”
“What about the Grays?”Zev asked. He didn’t even realize he’d used the slur, and the captain made no note of it.
“No help. Too busy bitching that we shouldn’t wait to talk to these bastards. I have to agree with them there.”He leaned closer, conspiratorially.“Something’s going on with them. A few of their ships have bugged out during refueling. Cranked up to Stride and sped away, like they know something we don’t.”
Zev nodded. He looked high overhead, the sky still streaking white lines of smoke as debris continued to rain down from the long quiet battleground.“Maybe they know a way to fix this. To clean up the spores.”
Captain Grahams shrugged.“If they do, they’re not telling. Look, whatever the Boxti are planning doesn’t matter now. Keep your men clear off the carpet and make sure they’re following containment protocol. We’ll have a formal briefing once this plan comes together. Just make sure they’re ready to knock that ugly brick back into space.”
“Roger, sir.”He turned and jogged off toward the decontaminated area. Huge white domes marked the only truly clean space left on the planet. Whether they were shooting the real bad guys or not, the invasion had begun. Now it was just a matter making a plan to take it back, and executing. Captain Graham stared at the Boxti stronghold, anger burning inside his chest. New Eden was more his home than the broke town in Colorado where he'd been born. It would take more than a little virus to move him. If the Boxti wanted this planet so bad, they’d have to go through the Cavemen first.
- IV -
Eruk had never felt so proud. The plan was unfolding as designed down to the last detail. The humans’weakness was in their obsessive pursuit of peace over conflict. Rather than meet a hostile opponent on the field of battle, they sought out opportunities to parlay, even at the detriment of their own planet. They had allowed the carrier to land without so much as a single nuclear exchange, and barely reacted to the release of the Druumatan. Hardly sentient when compared to the host parasite inside his own body, the young creatures had served their purpose in distracting the alien’s military while the citadel completed deployment.
His ship had taken minor damage during the exchange with the large cruiser and equally massive carrier. Their technology wasn’t as far advanced as those of the species that designed his dreadnought, but it packed a mean punch. The Qom slaves were wasting precious hours completing repairs. It infuriated the
Cthanul, though he knew his anger would solve nothing. He walked the halls of the great dreadnought, delivering an impatient swat to any workers foolish enough to come close.
“Patience is the virtue of the wise, and the crutch of a coward.”The Druuma’s voice tickled Eruk’s mind.“How fair’s your grand conquest of the humans, oh great and powerful Warlord? Have you successfully tamed them with your almighty threats of peace?”
“Why am I blamed for following orders? I should rip you from my chest and boil your flesh in oil, creature.”That earned him a painful spasm. Lightning coursed through his ribcage, but he fought back a scream into a low growl.“Does my obedience to the Horde King anger you, great worm?”And another jolt. Smoke burned in his nostrils.
The Druuma spat angrily.“Mind your tongue, Ruall. Your gift of free will is an honor, not a right. It can be taken away as easily as it was given. And do not think your words escape the ears of That which holds the Great Seat. My link remains forever unbroken, no matter your attempts to the otherwise.”
“I could bury this planet in the ashes of its inhabitants, yet I am ordered to play games with these creatures.”
“That you could see beyond the boundaries of your ship, you might show the promise of a Cleric.”The Druuma laughed.“But you are still a warrior at heart, seeking only blood and violence as a means to an end. That is why the Cthanul were so easy to destroy. They sought out the fight, and we responded in kind.”
Eruk gripped the edge of his blade, the pronged Gonali knife taken from the still dying king of some forgotten civilization. He thought that he had long ago forsaken the concept of honor, but the constant bombardment of insults demanded response. Yet to strike down the parasite would mean a painful end to them both, and Eruk was not ready to die.
“When did they take your kind, worm?”He gritted his teeth for the surge of anguish, but it never came. Before he knew it, his feet had carried him to the bridge.“Are you there?”
When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) Page 36
