It took him a few more minutes to make it to the restaurant where he was meeting Adrienne. He also knew that his sister, Susan Kirby, was coming along. Susan was so excited to be helping. She'd screamed loudly with joy when they'd given her the news about Adrienne’s pregnancy. The two girls, Candace and Karen had been thrilled also at the thought of a new cousin. It was still hard to accept that those two were now in high school and Karen would soon be graduating. Karen had already announced her intentions to study Kivean medical science and Harnett had agreed to help her in that endeavor.
Two security personnel were walking slightly behind Mason to ensure there were no incidents. Mason wasn’t too concerned since crime inside Vesta was literally non-existent. He noticed a large sign in the window of one of the stores and stopped to examine it. A frown crossed his face as he read the words.
“NO CLONES ALLOWED. THIS STORE IS FOR HUMAN BORN ONLY!!!
“That sign wasn’t there two days ago,” one of the security guards commented. “Do you want us to have it removed?”
“No,” Mason said, drawing in a sharp breath. “I’ll bring this up to the council and see what they recommend.” He didn’t want to cause a scene and the cloning situation was a hot topic anyway with the civilian population. It was far wiser to let the council handle this.
Mason turned and began walking down the busy sidewalk toward the restaurant. He let out a deep sigh of disappointment. That sign wasn’t the only one that had appeared recently. There were others scattered about as many people, even here inside Vesta, were against the cloning project.
Cheryl Robinson had launched numerous ad campaigns trying to change public opinion, but it had done very little to sway the masses. There had even been a few demonstrations against the clones, but nothing violent. They'd known from the beginning there would be problems when they instituted the program, but they'd greatly underestimated how opposed the average Human would be.
Reaching the restaurant, Mason went inside while his two security guards took up a protective stance near the entrance. They would make sure Mason and his family weren’t bothered while they ate. In many ways, Mason would be glad to turn his presidency over to Steward. He'd carried so much on his shoulders since the original Kleese attack on Earth. Now all he wanted to do was raise his family.
-
Ryan stood with the rest of his platoon on the parade field of the training dome. Three other platoons had joined his and were waiting patiently for Major Stevens to put in an appearance. The minutes passed slowly by and the marines stood still, standing at attention in their respective formations. Ryan could hear a few marines starting to whisper to one another as they wondered how long they'd have to stand here waiting on the major.
“Look up,” Corporal Hunter spoke in a quiet voice that held a hint of awe.
Ryan looked up and was startled to see what looked like a battlesuit descending down toward them. Ryan estimated it must be a good five hundred meters up in the air. His first thought was that the suit was falling and then he noticed controlled movements as the suit began to slow and finally landed nimbly directly in front of the assembled marines. It became very quiet as everyone’s eyes focused on the battlesuit, wondering who its occupant was.
“As you were,” Major Stevens’s voice boomed from the suit. “This is a Type Four battlesuit. It’s equipped with antigravity plates in the feet, which when used properly will allow limited flight.” He then reached down and drew an Energy Lance from his waist, igniting it and moving the glowing blue rod through several impressive movements before bringing it down on a block of metal sitting in front of him, cleaving it in two. He then put the lance back in its protective sheath at his waist.
Ryan began examining the new Type Four battlesuit, realizing that it seemed smaller and more form fitting than the Type Three or Type Twos. He wondered if that meant it had fewer weapons and was more dependent on speed and maneuverability. The suit was black and gray with small red lights at the joints and other areas on the suit. It looked nimble and quick.
As if reading his mind, Major Stevens removed the RG rifle from his shoulder and aimed it at a nearby target on the firing range. He fired a short burst and the target exploded into hundreds of pieces. He then switched the rifle to a different setting and fired two explosive shells at another target, which was instantly obliterated.
“The new RG rifle has three different settings,” he explained as he took several steps closer to the assembled marines cradling the rifle in his metal arms. “The first fires regular RG rounds, which you’re all familiar with. The second fires explosive tipped RG rounds and the third fires regular explosive shells. All the rounds and shells have been greatly reduced in size, allowing the rifle to hold nearly double the amount of ammunition that a regular RG rifle holds.”
He then turned to his side so everyone could see the twin tubes on the back of the suit. There was also a third and larger tube in the center.
“The suit does have two explosive round tubes on the back,” Stevens continued in a lecturing tone. “However, instead of holding twenty shells each, these hold forty. Once again the size of the shells have been greatly reduced.”
“What’s that one in the middle?” asked Private Parker. He'd been looking closely at it and had no clue as to its purpose. It looked markedly different than the explosive shell tubes.
“That’s our special surprise for the Kleese,” Stevens replied in a much more serious tone. “The center tube contains four small nuclear tipped shells capable of leveling an area one hundred meters across. These shells are special developments of the Kivean military research department. They use fusion to create the nuclear reaction and leave very little radiation when they explode.”
“We’re going to be carrying nuclear weapons on our backs!” exclaimed Private Swen his eyes growing wide with concern. “What if one goes off accidentally? It would wipe out everyone around it!”
“They can’t go off accidentally,” Stevens said in a reassuring voice. “There have been some safeguards added to ensure marines can’t be killed from friendly fire. The weapons also have to be activated from a neuro transmitter in the commanding officer’s battlesuit.”
“What’s a neuro transmitter?” asked Casey, suddenly feeling nervous. She didn’t like the sound of that.
“It’s a small device inserted into the cerebral cortex of the brain to allow for direct control of weapons, sensors, communications, and other battlesuit functions just by thinking about what you want the suit to do. Everyone in the program will have one surgically implanted so as to be able to use the new suits.”
The marines grew very silent as they wondered about what they'd volunteered for. Everyone had a language communication device implanted in their brains about the size of a pea; this had been done on their first day of training. This neuro transmitter sounded like something far more complicated and possibly painful.
“I can assure you the procedure is completely painless and once you become acclimated to the transmitter, you won’t even know it’s there,” Stevens informed them. “You may experience a day or two of discomfort as your system adapts to the transmitter, but it will open up a whole new world of combat information and maximize the use of the new battlesuits. The suit will seem like a part of your body and will make the Type Three suits seem quite primitive.”
“When would we have this surgery?” asked Ryan, wondering how many members of his platoon were having second thoughts.
“This afternoon,” Stevens responded as he turned to gaze out over the assembled marines. “The surgeons are standing by and we can process all four platoons by the end of the evening.”
“And it’s absolutely safe?” questioned Private Swen with an uncertain look on his face. He didn’t like the idea of having his brain operated on and another device inserted.
“Yes,” Stevens answered. “I’ve had the surgery as well as my training staff. There is one more thing I want to say. This neural transmitter will make you and the Ty
pe Four battlesuits the most deadly fighting instrument the Human race has ever created. If we win the war against the Kleese, these suits and the marines operating them will play a major, if not the defining, role in that victory.”
“Guess we’re getting operated on,” spoke Casey in a soft voice, glancing over at Ryan. “I really want this.” The military was Casey’s home and she was willing to do anything if it would make her a better marine.
“Guess so,” responded Ryan still keeping his eyes on the major.
“I realize this is something a few of you may feel hesitation about doing,” added Major Stevens. “You have two hours to decide if you want to be a part of this training. If you decide against it, all you have to do is report to my office. You’ll be transferred back to a platoon who will be using the Type Three battlesuits and there will be no black mark on your military record.”
There was a slight shuffling in the ranks as the marines looked around at each other wondering what everyone was thinking. A few looked distressed as if they didn’t like what they had just heard.
“Two hours,” Stevens spoke, evenly. He then turned and trotted off toward his office, which was on the far side of the parade grounds.
“Another piece of crap in my head,” mumbled Alexander as he reached up and rubbed his hair.
“They probably won’t shave all of your hair off,” ribbed Lauren with a wolfish grin. “Just a patch right down the center.”
Private Swen walked over to the two with a concerned frown on his face. “If this surgery turns me into a robot, just shoot me!”
“You could be a plaything for Lauren,” Alexander spoke with a wide grin spreading across his face. “Just think; you could answer to her every whim. I bet she has a really good imagination, if you know what I mean.”
Alexander let out a loud bellow as Lauren punched him in the stomach, driving the air out of his lungs. “The only plaything I want is you for a punching bag!”
“Sorry,” Alexander spoke with a painful grimace. “I was only joking.”
“Sometimes, you just don’t know when to shut up!” Lauren turned and began walking toward the barracks. She thought it might be a good idea to get in some sack time before the surgery and she was still a little aggravated at Alexander.
Private Swen watched as Lauren headed away from them, and then he turned toward Private Parker. “You know, one of these days you’re going to make her really mad and when you do she’s going to tear your head off.”
Alexander was silent for a moment as he watched Lauren leaving. “Lauren’s a great marine,” he said as he turned back to Private Swen. “I guess I just have a hard time admitting she’s as good as me.”
“Better in some things,” Swen pointed out. “She’ll make corporal before you do.”
“Great!” muttered Alexander with a grimace. “Then my life will really be a nightmare.”
-
Ryan was still talking to Casey about the impending surgery when he noticed two of the other platoon lieutenants walking over.
“Hello,” the taller one spoke. “I’m Brice Felton.”
“And I’m Autumn Guthrie,” the blonde headed woman spoke.
“Wade Nelson and this is Corporal Casey Hunter.”
“Didn’t I see you at the Academy on Vesta?” Casey asked. She thought Brice had been in some of her classes; it was also obvious he was a clone.
“Possibly,” Brice responded. “There were a lot of us in those classes.”
“What do you think about this surgery?’ asked Autumn, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is something way different than what I was expecting. It sounds as if our brains are being hardwired to the suits.”
“It’s a logical development,” Casey said her eyes looking thoughtful. “We already have the translation device implanted in our heads and this won’t be much different. It’ll give us a direct connection to our battlesuits and should make our response times almost instantaneous.”
“I can see where that would be useful in a battle,” conceded Autumn.
“You’re Colonel Nelson’s brother, aren’t you?” asked Brice. He'd seen the colonel on several occasions back on Vesta.
“Yes,” Ryan answered. He let out a deep breath; everyone knew his brother and what he and Beth had done freeing the Kiveans from the Kleese and their subsequent battles.
“Did he say anything to you about the Type Four battlesuits?”
“No, not a thing,” Ryan answered. “He wouldn’t, anyway.”
Brice nodded. “I’ve only heard the best about your brother, I’m glad to see we have a Nelson in this program.”
Ryan felt surprised but nodded his head. “Do either of you think any of your marines will back out?”
“A few might,” admitted Autumn as she could see several animatedly talking to each other and gesturing. “I think when we start talking about brain surgery and what it might imply as far as these suits go; a few might be hesitant about going on with the program.”
“We can only wait and see,” added Brice with a nod of agreement. “I guess we’ll know in the morning.
Ryan looked around and saw that most of the assembled marines were gradually making their way toward the barracks and the mess hall.
“I think I’m going to go get something light to eat and talk to some of my platoon to see if they have any questions. I'd really like to see all of them enter the program; they’re a good bunch.”
“I believe we all feel that way about our platoons,” Brice responded. “We probably should make ourselves available and the mess hall is as good as anywhere else.”
“Then let’s do it,” Ryan said as he began walking across the parade grounds with the others following closely behind.
He hoped he was making the right decision. It sounded as if the Type Four battlesuits were going to be in the thick of the fighting, something he knew his parents wouldn’t want to hear, particularly his mother. Both of his parents had encouraged him to join the fleet, but the marines and the battlesuits had been too big a temptation. He just hoped he wouldn’t come to regret that decision.
Chapter Seven
Colonel Wade Nelson was in the Command Center of the battlecruiser Constellation as it pulled away from Vesta and moved out away from the asteroid field to join the rest of Seventh Fleet. As he watched Vesta gradually diminish on the viewscreen and then finally disappear, he let out a deep sigh. They were finally ready to start their mission and would soon be entering Fold Space to head for the first nonaligned world on their long list. He wondered what lay ahead for the fleet and the mission.
“Fleet is ready to initiate Fold Space entry upon your order,” Commander Shepherd informed Admiral Adamson.
“We may be gone for a long time,” commented Adamson from his position next to Wade where he too had been watching the viewscreens.
“This is an important mission,” responded Wade, glancing over at the admiral. “There’s a very good chance we’ll be involved in some heavy combat, both on the ground and in space.”
“We’re going to remind the Kleese we’re still around,” Adamson pointed out. “This could be a very dangerous game we’re playing, and we’re going to be a long way from home if anything goes wrong.”
“It’s the hand we’ve been dealt,” answered Wade, evenly.
On the viewscreen, the rest of the ships were coming into view. Overall, there were two hundred and twenty-six ships in the newly formed Seventh Fleet. This would be the largest and most powerful fleet ever to leave the solar system. It would definitely be a wakeup call to the Kleese once it was detected.
“We’re moving into position between the Falcon and the Rampage,” reported Lieutenant Percy Lash, who was sitting in front of the ship’s primary sensor console. The Falcon and the Rampage were two of the three new battlecruisers assigned to Seventh Fleet; the third was the Firebolt.
“All ships stand by to enter Fold Space,” Adamson ordered over the fleet com connecting to all ships. “Initiate
two minute countdown on my mark.” Adamson waited a few seconds and then spoke once more. “Mark!”
“Message from President Randle,” Lieutenant Emma Travers reported from Communications. “He says good luck and he’ll be waiting for good news.”
“One minute to Fold Space Drive activation,” spoke Lieutenant Jase Martin from the Helm. “All system functioning normally.”
“Message from Fleet Admiral Kelly and General Mitchell,” added Lieutenant Travers. “Message says 'good hunting'.”
Adamson allowed himself to smile. The messages themselves served to indicate just how important everyone considered this mission to be.
“Fold Space Drive activation in ten seconds,” Martin spoke in an even voice. “Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Activation!”
In Engineering, the Fold Space Drive began generating an energy field in front to the ship, warping the very fabric of space. In this area, the laws of physics were slightly different than in the normal Einstein Universe. The space directly in front of the ship was suddenly drawn in upon itself, making the distance between two points shrink substantially. The greater strain the Fold Space Drive put upon the space directly in front of the ship the greater the warping effect, allowing the ship to travel at speeds many multiples of the speed of light. To the casual observer, without the advanced sensors to detect the warping effect, it would seem as if the ship had just suddenly vanished as it exceeded light speed.
“All ships have made the transition into Fold Space,” Commander Shepherd confirmed as she checked with several of the Command Center personnel.
“All ships reporting normal operations,” Travers added as she listened to the multitude of messages coming in over her Communications console.
Galactic Empire Wars: Rebellion (The Galactic Empire Wars Book 3) Page 10
