When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars)

by Korenman, Adam

  “Do you want the rest, daddy?”She held out the tin, pointing to the final sliver of meat and grease tucked into the folded metal. Her eyes were red, from sleep depravation more than tears.

  Timothy waved her off.“I’m not hungry, sweetie. You go ahead.”

  “When did you eat?”She knew the answer. In that moment she sounded like her mother.“You have to stay strong, dad. I need you to.”

  “I know. I just thought...”He stopped at a sudden noise. At first he shrank back from the boarded window, thinking it was another group of them. But the high-pitched whine grew in intensity until he could make out the chop of rotors underneath. His pulse raced. A rescue!

  “Anyone who can hear this message,”a voice blasted down from unseen speakers.“This is Sergeant First Class Zev Perez. Your city is overrun. If you’re in shelter and safe, stay put. Don’t try to escape the city.”

  Timothy sat down and pulled Mary close, kissing her forehead. He had prayed for help to arrive, but days of this horror had withered his hope.

  “In two days, elements from the Fort Metts strategic reserve will deploy into Paradise Point. We’re going to bring out survivors. Hang something yellow from a window or rooftop so we can find you, and stay in one place. I say again, put out something yellow and we will find you. Just a little longer, please. Give us two more nights. We are coming.”Engines roared and the voice was gone, letting silence fall.

  Timothy looked at his daughter, smiling for the first time that week. His strength was back, fueled by adrenaline and the promise of finally leaving this hell. He ran around the store, sorting through piles of junk until he found a bright yellow raincoat. Ripping open the packaging, he went to the window and push the material through, careful not to let it slip out. He turned to his daughter, bristly face breaking into another grin.

  “Two days. We’re leaving in two days.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hive Mind

  “Personally, I don’t think anyone has the right to criticize the general’s decision. I was there, I was on the ground with those things every day. There wasn’t a choice in the matter. It was fight or flight, and enough people had died by that point. I’m only mad he didn’t make the call sooner. Might have saved a few million more lives.”

  SFC Zev Perez

  Platoon Sergeant

  2237

  - I -

  February 21, 2237

  “It’s not stupid,”Cameron said.“It’s a huge honor.”He shifted in his chair, running a hand over his face. Josh stared back at him from the monitor, barely stifling a laugh. The pilot frowned, but he could hardly blame his friend. He was holding his phone out in one hand, the camera faced to show the room in the background. The Executive Ballroom of Imperion One was a monstrously extravagant amphitheater in the center of the top deck. Huge windows looked out on the stars surrounding the Colorum Belt. Though the green and blue nebulae outside of Eros would have provided a more spectacular view, safety concerns brought the official party to the secured sector.

  As Cameron panned around the room, past the sea of politicians, several members of the crowd stood out. At each door, dressed in the flowery colors of the long-dead Empire, were soldiers of the Guard. Actually, Cameron thought, they’re more like male models playing members of the Guard. The traditional dress uniform of the Imperial Guard was a ridiculously pompous affair. Scarlet and purple cloth covered the models from head to foot, with bright gold buttons and fringed shoulder boards. A long silver or bronze stripe ran down the top of the coat from the collar to both arms, designating rank. Blood red boots of polished leather reflected the lights overhead. Unlike the Dress Grays Cameron wore, the uniform of the Guard had no awards or medals; not that these actors had earned any to wear.

  During the latter years of the Empire Americana, when the entirety of Earth began to rebel and the mighty Legion fell, the Purple and Red were the last true line of defense against the coming armies. All were men of incredible character and value, with a record to rival any nation’s best. When the Imperial military surrendered arms at Vienna, only the Guard remained in place around the Emperor’s Estate. Numbering at exactly one thousand, they held off the Seven Divisions for almost a week of nonstop fighting. They laid down their lives to a man, buying precious moments for the Emperor’s family to escape in a shuttle for Luna. The last Guard, a sergeant named Alberto Nova, managed to single-handedly stop the pressing forces for an hour before succumbing to multiple gunshot wounds. Only minutes later, the Emperor conceded the fight and surrendered himself to the authority of the Seven Divisions and the judgement of the people of Earth.

  After the trial, but before the public execution, the Emperor made a final request of the tribunal. His family was to be left alone, to live out their lives free of the burden and shame of his name. And, Sergeant Nova’s sacrifice was to be honored by future generations. Much to the surprise of the citizens of Earth, the requests were accepted. It became the one legacy Norton left behind that wasn’t reviled. For years, soldiers who demonstrated unflinching courage in the face of battle or unchallenged fortitude against overwhelming odds received the Nova Cross.

  But the military ceased using the medal after only thirty years. It was true that Sergeant Nova had served above and beyond the call of duty and was an exemplary soldier, but that didn’t forgive the atrocities committed by the Imperial Guard. Over the course of Emperor Norton’s thirty years running the constantly growing Americas, millions of citizens had been starved, oppressed or killed under the crimson boots of the“Emperor’s Chosen.”As the Seven Divisions became the United Earth Council, most people found the thought of honoring the tyrannical regime somewhere between mildly amusing and outright insulting. The armies of the galaxy summarily dropped usage of the medal. In fact, the only members of any organization still utilizing the award were politicians.

  Josh marveled at the absurdity of the event.“So they honor their most prestigious members by comparing them to stormtroopers?”He shook his head.“I don’t think I’ll ever get politics.”

  “It’s not even politics,”Cameron said.“It’s a pageant. They strut around in their expensive suits and look sharp for the cameras. Then someone asks them how they feel about the war or the Nangolani, and depending on which side of the fence pays the bills they’ll take one side or another.”

  “That’s some bullshit.”

  Cameron nodded vigorously.“I know, right?”He wasn’t watching where he walked and bumped into a short, fat man in a rather bland blue suit. The pilot apologized, walking away quickly before he could be entangled in one of the many boring conversations that dotted the room. Waiters crisscrossed the chattering masses carrying trays of posh pre-dinner treats, each harder to pronounce than the last. Cameron snatched a pastry filled with spiced meat and popped it into his mouth.“One thing I can say, these guys know how to eat.”

  “How’s Kaileen?”Josh asked.

  Cameron shrugged.“She’s lonely back on the station. They have her running the bomber ops now. She’s gonna make captain before me. But that’s fine, I’ve always had a thing for a hot superior officer.”

  Josh nodded.“It should be on everyone’s list, right after sexy librarian and pirate.”

  The pilot looked off camera as someone called out his name.“I guess that’s my cue. I’m supposed to be walking with the color guard to open the event. I’ll get to meet the High Chancellor.”

  “Is he worth meeting?”

  “I don’t know. You ask anyone about the HC and they either hate him or love him. There’s no middle ground. If he’s like the rest of these guys, he’ll just be boring. But boring about reallyimportant stuff.”

  Josh shook his head.“And now you’re surrounded by the sycophants and leeches this type of business spawns. I don’t know, I couldn’t take the detail and not lose it. I’d end up getting drunk and mouthing off to a governor or councilor and getting duty off of Titan or something.”

  “That’s right,”Cameron said.“You’ve
never been to Titan. Sector has a special post there for new pilots. If the cold doesn’t get to you, the finicky gravity generators will.”

  “Just another reason I prefer active duty, and on the ground.”

  Bells rang out over the loudspeaker and a pleasant female voice asked patrons to leave their drinks on the tables and enter the room. Cameron looked into his phone and grinned wide.“Looks like I’m on.”

  “Don’t go native on me, Cam. I can’t be friends with a staffer.”

  Cameron laughed.“They couldn’t afford me.”He held up a hand to someone off screen.“Hey, after this I should have some leave worked up. If your sector is clear of the quarantine, meet me on the station for some R&R. Kaileen has a friend she thinks you’ll like.”

  “I’m in. I’ll find out soon about leave.”He looked over his shoulder and grinned as Dax entered the screen.“Dude, say hi to Cam.”

  Dax smiled until all his teeth were visible.“Cam, man. I haven’t seen you in months. You gotta my boy Josh up with some of those smokin’flygirls. And save one for me.”

  “They don’t grow pilots that can handle you, D.”A hand grabbed his shoulder.“All right, I gotta run. Stay safe, buddy.”

  “Stop crashing, flyboy.”

  - II -

  Ray and Mara stood out on the balcony, watching the intense traffic flow that surrounded the building. Eight tiered lanes of hovering trucks, cars and haulers ran bumper to bumper in every direction. The glowing trails stretched endlessly into the distance, the reflections casting flickering patterns off the windows of the surrounding buildings. Night in London hadn’t changed much in the last two centuries. The wind blew in off the Thames cold and smelling of saltwater. The streets were still mostly paved, though high-speed magnetic freeways were finally in production. Governor McCalahan wanted to protect the culture of the city as much as possible, but often conceded to the needs of the still-growing metropolis.

  The TSI Advanced Development Program was a deceptively named group based out of the British isle. In the public’s eye,the ADP was a research team for the scientific branch of the Initiative. Trillions of dollars disappeared into experimental programs that launched countless satellites into the sky, each destined for new and exciting discoveries. In reality, the advertisement for the satellites cost more than the combined parts of the rockets. The rest of the money filtered through dozens of front corporations, ending at a bank account known as the Discretionary Fund. From there, TSI and several governmental agencies used the collateral to begin wildly imaginative and top secret projects, as well as conduct research that needed to be kept from prying eyes.

  Chavez had driven his team hard, but the results spoke volumes. In just a few short months they had discovered battle strategies, unit designators and carrier groupings. The Boxti, though incredibly advanced and ruthlessly efficient, were not very different from any other Navy. They ran on their stomachs, as the adage went, and supporting elements followed them in packs toward the rear of the formations. They cared little for their dead, allowing derelicts to drift free until they succumbed to the nearest gravitational force. In each engagement they focused on mid-level frigates first before moving on to capital ships. Terrans trained to use frigates to support both fighter movement and capital ship offensives, and having their middlemen cut out severely hampered the defendability of the group. That the aliens had adapted so quickly to a new enemy was remarkable, and somewhat telling about their military prowess. In each engagement witnessed, the doctrine was sound. All except one.

  Ray ran his fingers through his thick hair, noting absently that he needed a haircut when he had a day off. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Not after tonight. A light drizzle began to fall, but neither scientist made any move to go inside. The sounds of the city floated around them, all of it just white noise.

  “What will you do?”Mara asked.

  Ray sighed, longing for a cigarette. He’d never gotten into the habit, having grown up in a house stained gray with smoke. But at times like this he remembered how relaxed his father seemed after a puff or two.“I have to report it. They need to know.”

  She nodded, but clearly loathed the inevitability.“I can’t stay if you do. None of us should. It won’t be safe.”Rain matted her hair across her face, and she brushed the damp strands aside.“Not that we deserve any better.”

  “If it’s true,”Ray said.“This is raw data, it could mean anything.”

  Mara turned to face him. He’d found it easier to read her expressions, having worked so closely with the alien during the project. Or maybe she’d just adopted human quirks. Her eyes were narrow, eyebrows raised and spread. It wasn’t regret, but horror and despair.

  “They fought as one mind at Tallus and New Eden. In every battle with my people it has been the same overwhelming swarm. But here, above your planet, they were in disarray.”Her hand went to her eyes, wiping more than rain away.“Unless we were pursued by the worst elements of their Navy, those were not Boxti warships in your skies. It was a trick.”

  That’s not the worst of it, Ray thought. When Mara had made the sickening proposition, had suggested that the Nangolani faked the battle over Earth, he had immediately dismissed it. How else could the Boxti have found the humans at Tallus? Or New Eden?

  There had been a signal recorded at Luna and Tallus, a relay buoy that called in the invading forces. For months, it was the only known trace of the Boxti communication band. Then, after the invasion of New Eden, Ray had compared the two signals listening for a match. His hope had been to break into the aliens’communications. What he’d found was something else entirely. Boxti traffic operated on a low power, long distance FTL broadcast tuned to a specific frequency. In playback, it gave off a distinct Khuum. But the sounds heard over Luna and Tallus had been much higher in pitch, and a short band. Tim.

  Ray pushed away from the railing and paced the balcony. He couldn’t look at her, not feeling the way he did. Wretched, he thought. I never understood that word until now.“Would they do it?”He bit his lip, trying to control the burning sensation in his chest.“Your leaders, would they sign off on it?”

  “They had to,”she said.“Anduin knows all and sees all.”

  Ray couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t said Emperor Anduin. There came a knock at the glass door behind them, and a young intern poked his head out. Ray motioned for him to speak, as the young man seemed starstruck by the Nangolani. It sometimes seemed hard to remember that aliens had been real to humans for less than a year.

  “Dr. Chavez is ready for your report, sir.”The intern’s eyes darted back and forth between the human and the alien. Mara, for her part, made no reaction.“He’s waiting for you in his office.”

  Ray nodded and the intern disappeared back inside.“I can buy you time,”he said.“Let you get in touch with your government. Maybe there’s another explanation.”

  She shook her head.“You’ve never experienced life as a refugee. No home, no concept of safety. Every day we woke up thinking the enemy would finally close in, finally destroy us. I was born onto the Gomatta. I’d never seen the sky from a planet’s surface until coming to Earth. Imagine being Anduin and living that nightmare, with the pain of your failure to save Nangol eating at you every day. What would you do to secure the future of your people? There is no doubt in my mind that he would stage such a battle, coax you into taking our side. I was the one who made the initial report on contacting Humanity. It wasn’t as an ally in war, not back then, but I remember the words I used.”She looked out at the lines of traffic, the rain soaking her clothing and running down her face.“‘Humanity is an honorable race, one that longs to see justice in all aspects of life. They will rush to defend the downtrodden, taking on incredible odds but always overcoming adversity.’Could Anduin have found a better target for his farce?”

  Ray couldn’t find his tongue. He lowered his head and walked back inside, leaving the glass door half open. He stopped just past the threshold and turned to face Mara.“They’ll
say terrible things.”Her head raised, confusion spread across her face.“When this gets out, the politicians and talking heads on TV will make you out to be monsters. I want you to know that I’m here, if you need me.”

  She smiled, her teeth white against her black lips. Stress was written across her face in deep lines, but she put on a brave front.“Thank you, Ray. I hope to be strong enough to weather what is coming.”She faced the rain, putting her hands against the chilled railing.“I pray we can all be strong.”

  - III -

  The event began with as much fanfare as possible, down to the orchestra playing a rousing rendition of the Rise of the Sea, the oft-neglected prelude to the Federate’s Anthem. Dozens of well-dressed wait staff ensured no glass remained uncharged long enough for the patrons to sober. Even with delegates from every major political party bumping elbows and spilling drinks, the atmosphere was too enjoyable to fight. It was everything Alexander had needed, and everything he hated. His argument with Jerry the day before left him raw, and a part of him itched for a fight. More than anything, he wanted to go to New Eden to parlay with the aliens. The entire cabinet agreed that was a terrible idea, and locked the High Chancellor in his own ship.

  Planning for the gala started not long after contact with the Nangolani, but hadn’t reached full swing until the attacks in New York. Now, with the future of the Earth government in such dire straits, the High Chancellor’s advisors felt that the celebration was the only card left to play. If Alexander couldn’t get the rest of the Council to see the lack of sense in the citizenry of their home planet, it wouldn’t matter if Kerrigan took the office. There wouldn’t be a point in saving a species that so willingly allowed tyrants to take the throne.