Tales of the Federation Reborn 1

by Chris Hechtl

  “Conspiracy nuts, religious nuts, whatever—take your pick, all of the above and more. Not that it matters,” Callie said. She noted the commander who was practically squirming in his seat. “Go, Commander. Please make certain everything is okay, then report back when you have the time.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Deputy Mayor,” the commander said, rising hastily. He was already whipping out his radio. “Sergeant, I want an all-hands on deck call.”

  “Sir? Commander Feral?”

  “Yes, you think this is the ice cream fairy? Focus, Sergeant!”

  “Yes, sir! What are your orders?”

  “Get our people out there to maintain law and order. If anyone starts to loot and riot, I want it crushed fast,” the commander snarled. “And make certain we are jamming any frequencies. I don't want them to get through to anyone they might have on the surface.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me,” the commander growled as he headed out the exit.

  “Miss Simian, I suggest you put the most valuable of your collection under lock and key. Organize those you can to do that and then lock your facility down. Anyone who has training ask them to report to the shelters. I think we drained the subway tunnels and repaired half the lines. Could we use them as bomb shelters?” Callie asked.

  “Oh, dear me, you don't think they'll bomb my beautiful city,” the mayor wailed, clearly anxious and outraged.

  “It's a thought, Mayor. We need to be prepared and get our people to cover. We have emergency plans in place. I suggest we dust them off and review them,” Callie said evenly.

  The mayor nodded. “Quite right, quite right indeed,” he said.

  Callie exhaled again. That was the easy part. Now she just needed to keep from running around like the chicken who was claiming the sky was falling.

  Even though it most certainly was.

  <(>^<)>

  Protecting Mega City from the marauding pirates as well as the nuts on the ground became that much harder as the inevitable panic set into the general population. “I don't know where they plan to go,” he said, watching people pack their things.

  “At least they are doing something—fight or flight,” Lieutenant Feral said from behind him. He turned to her. “I've been listening to the ham radio network. Some are up in arms. Anyone who tries to lynch a human we're landing on with full force. Word is human communities are getting ugly for our kind though,” she warned.

  “They are tearing us apart. We're at each other's throats instead of working together,” Commander Feral snarled, clenching his teeth.

  “They are asking loyal humans to call in their locations as well as the locations of any Neos or aliens. I'm guessing so the pirates can target us,” the lieutenant said.

  “It's not us or them. We won't play their sick games,” the commander said, turning to a few of the humans in his unit. “Is that understood?” he asked, raising his voice as he addressed the room at large.

  “Yes, sir!” the lieutenant barked, coming to attention. The rest of the room followed suit.

  “Good. We have people to protect. People first. Get the crowds under control. Lock down anything that appears out of order if we have to. Get on that.” He scowled as the news broadcast repeated the admiral's broadcast.

  “And will someone please shut that damn thing off? And find a way to shut them up? We don't need the reminder,” Commander Feral snarled when Admiral Von Berk's speech repeated the part about targeting all aliens and Neos and called for a general uprising of loyal humans to his cause. He shook his head as his people went back to work.

  <(>^<)>

  Four days later they were still maintaining order, but only because the enforcers had a hell of a reputation for using excessive force to quell unrest. When the enforcers arrived on a scene, people scattered. Rigorous patrols kept looting at bay.

  Hundreds had arrived at the HQ and other sites to sign on. Feral had taken everyone on, but only those with firearm or police training were issued weapons. They also had to turn them in at the end of their shift for the next person to use. He wasn't about to let anyone make off with his limited supply of arms.

  The arrival of the Horathians into orbit was punctuated by a kinetic strike on Landing City. Militia groups in and around the capital were wiped out in one fell swoop by kinetic strikes from orbit. Nohar Rajestan and part of the administration got away, but a lot of good people were killed for no gain whatsoever.

  <(>^<)>

  It took precious time for those on the scene to reconstruct how the pirates had gotten such precision in their targeting. Rajestan had been careful not to allow any broadcast of the locations of the militias to go out. That included any unintended radio transmissions.

  Playback of the radar recordings reported that a series of vehicles had entered atmosphere hours prior to the kinetic strike. Those were followed by reports of unmanned drones invading the air space around the city.

  Rajestan immediately put the pieces together and broadcast what he knew to the police and authorities first. When the drones arrived, they did a quick recon of the area. Then KEW strikes were sent in to wipe out populated areas and any pockets of resistance.

  “You need to knock these things down before they get into your air space. Be warned, some might be armed. It is imperative that you take them out quickly, before they can gather enough intelligence to use against you,” the planetary security chief stated. “We are receiving word that Gotham has been similarly hit. It is being followed up by a landing force. Commissioner Gordon has been injured.”

  “Damn it,” Commander Feral muttered.

  “If you see a drone, immediately order your troops to disperse. The same for the population. Get them out of any concentrated areas. Disperse them as widely as possible. Underground is of limited use right now,” the yellow Neotiger warned.

  Commander Feral took notes and then ordered his people to keep an extra vigilant watch on the skies with their radar arrays. It would be only a matter of time before they too received an unwelcome visit and definitely unwelcome attention.

  He'd wondered why they'd held off until he realized the pirates were most likely working off outdated intelligence. They had no idea Mega City had been partially restored. He had to count his blessings there.

  But their luck wouldn't hold out forever he thought.

  <(>^<)>

  “Sir, we've got credible intelligence reports of another city on the planet. It too is coastal. This Mega City is supposed to be an industrial and trade site. Second or perhaps first order target, sir, right up there with Metropolis and Gotham if the intelligence is accurate.”

  The colonel frowned thoughtfully. Gotham seemed to be pretty hefty on industrial material, but so was Metropolis. Both had pretty heavy defenses though, and in both cases the natives were taking a scorched earth policy whenever they could.

  Metropolis also had some successful air defenses. He hadn't lost a shuttle yet, but he'd lost a few drones. “Oh?”

  The lieutenant nodded and passed him the tablet with the intelligence reports. “Yes, sir. Apparently it has been recently restored. It is heavily populated by Neos too,” the lieutenant said, eying the colonel.

  “Well then, we'll have to pay them a visit. Plot the mission, Lieutenant; use the reserve birds. Metropolis is next?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fine then. We'll send the last four of this mission to this Mega City. Perhaps it is a viable target as well.”

  “Yes sir.”

  <(>^<)>

  “Lieutenant Feral, we've got incoming! Four hot signatures are coming in from orbit. They are lighting up the IR like it's day, ma'am!” the rating said as Felica looked up.

  “Damn it!”

  “Well, our luck couldn't last forever. Nice knowing ya,” another rating said.

  “We're not dead yet. Type? Location? Where are they headed? Come on, people; I need answers!”

  “Headed here, ma'am. They look like they might overshoot though
. Not sure about type or size, we're still refining the data. We're lucky we've got this much of a warning,” the rating said.

  “Definitely,” his partner said.

  “Pat your backs later. Page, Commander Feral. Sound the general alert klaxon. We need everyone up and on their guard. We may not have much time to prepare,” the lieutenant growled.

  “Yes, ma'am,” the rating replied.

  <(>^<)>

  Jake had a tap into the enforcer HQ including their radar and communications network. He overheard the call of incoming craft from space and waved frantically to Chance. The other cat came over, still polishing a wrench as Jake heard the commander take over the HQ and dispatch Felica to the airport to get aircraft into the air.

  “What's up?”

  “The pirates are taking an interest in Mega City. They are sending what looks like …,” Jake refined the radar array. “Damn it, I wish we had lidar and gravitics!” he grumbled.

  “Easy there, Jake,” Chance said, tossing the rag into the laundry bin as he wracked the wrench. He closed the tool drawer and then turned back to his partner.

  “Got it. They are still coming down. That's how the enforcers got the whiff, the IR of something coming in. The plasma stream is impossible to hide,” he said.

  Chance nodded. He'd heard that often enough from his partner. It was why their first time coming down from space he'd performed S turns to bleed off their excess speed and heat. The speed of heat indeed he thought wryly. Their baby had glowed cherry red for a while.

  “Are they shuttles?” he asked.

  “No. Too small. My guess is drones. Probably coming down in some sort of capsule. They'll blow the capsule in the air and deploy to do orbits around the city and surrounding area,” Jake said thoughtfully as his partner went over to his locker and opened it.

  “Chance, if they get those drones in and around us, we'll be cooked. They'll be able to refine their look at the city and use it for on-call fire support. Right now they only have the visuals and radar from orbit. The cloud cover won't last forever,” Jake warned.

  “Then suit up, buddy,” T-Bone said, pulling his uniform out as he began to shuck his battered coveralls. “We've got a mission.”

  “Roger,” Razor replied gruffly, voice and mannerisms falling into his assumed role as a Swatcat like his partner.

  <(>^<)>

  Jake pulled on his new gloves and then put his helmet on. He did the traditional fist and forearm bump with Champ and then hauled ass out into the hangar bay. Together the two cats cleared the bird for flight in record time and then climbed in.

  As Chance did the preflight checklist, Jake finished his and then hit the door release as the engines began to spool up. It was night time, so it would be far easier for them to slip their jet outside as long as no one was around. A quick check of the security feeds told him the coast was clear.

  “Go!” he said as Chance taxied over to the catapult. That was a new thing, something to get them up to air speed quicker so they could clear the air space and get so the camouflage ramp could be put back.

  “We're gone!” Chance, now T-Bone, said, ramming the collective forward to apply power as he triggered the catapult.

  G forces pressed them into their seats as the jet rocketed down the catapult to throw herself into the night sky. “I just realized, I shouldn't have had that bean, jalapeno and rat burrito for lunch,” Razor ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Suck it up good, buddy, we're just getting started,” T-Bone replied as he threw the craft into a bank and climbed for the first target.

  Their black, custom built jet didn't have the tandem cockpit of the enforcer choppers. The Bell Ichim 333 frame had been designed from the outset as an attack bird so the pilot and copilot were seated in line, with the pilot in front with the best visuals and the copilot behind acting as the weapons officer.

  The bird was a bastardization of two craft never meant to meld together. Jake had spent a lot of crunch time with the University engineering department's mainframes to get it just right. He'd even printed parts to build a replica for a series of wind tunnel tests.

  It was also far more advanced than any other bird on the planet; Jake had seen to that. The fat enforcer helicopters had been made by Gotham's Waynetech using bootstrapped industrial processes. The design had evolved glacially over the past three decades since it had been put into widespread use, but it hadn't really evolved significantly until the admiral had visited. Waynetech had picked up a lot of knowledge from the admiral's visit and had apparently applied it to their inventory of products. The results were more efficient and much more modern equipment and vehicles like the choppers. There were even whispers of black projects Fox had under wraps.

  And every year there was a new model helicopter or other aircraft that was slightly faster, lighter, with better weapons and gear. The latest had night vision and whisper mode. Since Waynetech heavily discounted for law enforcement, they had a practical lock on the market, though Lexcorp was now starting to make inroads with their Osprey knockoff they had started to produce a few months ago.

  It was good that Waynetech was serious about keeping the price and their costs down. Commander Feral might complain that the choppers leaned to nonlethal as much as possible, but they were still the best in the industry and were modular enough to be outfitted with Lexcorp guns, rocket pods, and missiles if required.

  They like some of the police forces on the planet did take advantage of the tangle goop Waynetech and Biosyn had started to churn out. The stuff was a binary solution that when mixed in different proportions turned into a setting polymer mix. It was colored gray like cement. By varying the mix, they could get something sticky and stretchy that hardened like plastic or a mix that would foam up and then harden that way. Jake had also figured out how to create smart rounds that could be fed into their chain gun.

  All of that wasn't going to amount to much when the Pirates got into their air space though.

  <(>^<)>

  “Radar reports we've got four incoming tangos, Commander. They are too small to be shuttle craft though,” the rating said, sounding calmer. “Definitely not, I repeat, not a KEW strike as we'd feared,” he said.

  “Phew,” another rating said.

  The commander looked over to the rating who winced. “Can it. Are you saying we're looking at drones?”

  “Sir?”

  “I'm wondering if they are drones,” the commander said, grimacing. “It fits their MO. They drop a bunch of drones, get the intel they need, then drop the rocks. Can you take them on with the batteries?”

  “The lasers aren't hooked up, sir; they are disassembled in the armory warehouse. It will take time, a couple hours to tow them out and hook them up to a proper main line and …,” the commander's baton wave silenced the sergeant.

  “What about the rail gun?” the commander demanded.

  “It … has ammunition I suppose, but it's not geared to hit something so small, sir. I mean, we can try …”

  “Forget it. We'll have to take them on with the helicopters then,” the commander said, turning away from the radar screen. “Get me chopper backup!” he snarled.

  “Sir, the choppers are too slow to engage. The hostiles are too far out and moving above mach one,” the sergeant said carefully.

  “Sir! We've got a report of that black jet in the air. It's headed to the drones, sir!” a Neomutt rating said, looking up with one hand on his headset and the other pointing to it. “Chopper five just called it in, sir!”

  “What? We can't see it!” The sergeant stared at the radar screen then looked up in annoyance. “The damn stealth on that thing...,” the sergeant said shaking his head in disbelief. “How the hell are they pulling that off?”

  “The Swatcats save the day again,” the commander said sarcastically.

  “Well, they haven't done it yet, sir,” the sergeant reminded him.

  “Better hope they do,” the commander said, eying him. “If they fail or if the e
nemy gets enough information anyway, the last we'll know about it is when they throw a rock to smash into our heads. Proceed with the evacuation!” he barked.

  <(>^<)>

  “These suckers are armed!” Razor warned as the drone they had been stalking turned and started firing on them. “They must be locking onto our wash and heat signature, T-Bone!” he warned.

  “Then shoot them down! Ah, I just buffed this baby,” T-Bone moaned as the bird started to take a few strikes. The titanium carbon fiber composite wrapping around their cockpit and the bird's intakes protected them and it against the initial hits from range. But he jinked anyway just to keep them from hitting the canopy and cracking it.

  “I told you we need that ruby canopy!” he said, jinking again.

  “Will you shut up and let me concentrate here!” Razor growled, lining up a shot with the under slung turret. He fired a couple shots in return, then T-Bone banked ruining a follow up shot.

  “Missile?”

  “We're fully loaded … frack! Incoming missile!”

  “Flares!” T-Bone ordered as Razor punched the appropriate button, then followed it up with a flashbang for good measure.

  T-Bone rolled then kicked the forward motors in to flip the bird. Razor instinctively knew what he was doing so he was ready. Before the bird had rolled level, he'd lined up and fired off a shot with the turret, then followed it up by popping the doors open to fire off a missile of their own.

  The missile flew hot, straight, and true. When it got into range, its nosecone split and a net exploded outward, tangling the drone and sending it crashing into the ground.

  “Bo-yeah! Scratch two!” Razor growled, fist clenched and raised.

  “Then we've got two more!” T-Bone reminded him.