by C T Glatte
Vannt spoke, “I’ve heard from Korth Officer Prolus. He says your fighters aren’t doing as well as they should be against the American fighters. Why?”
General Putra licked his suddenly dry lips. “We have won every battle thus far, Excellency. The kills the Capitalists have gained are attributed to the P-51D Mustang. It is a formidable foe, but my pilots have learned to use the climbing abilities of the Migs to defeat them.”
Vannt wasn’t convinced, “Then why haven’t they been defeated? The Americans continue to attack the fleet. If you’d completely destroyed them the first time, they wouldn’t have dared return.”
General Putra felt the sweat prickling his scalp beneath his short-cropped gray hair. “The more our pilots fight them, the better we will become…”
Vannt interrupted, “As will the Americans.”
Putra nodded, “Yes, but our superior aircraft will carry the day, Excellency.”
Vannt made a scuffling noise then continued, “What are your losses, General?”
Normally, General Putra would lie, but that wasn’t possible with the Korth. They knew immediately and he figured Vannt already knew the exact numbers from his embedded Officer Prolus. He read off a list. “We’ve lost seventeen fighters and three escort ships, Excellency.”
Vannt’s red scalp deflated and it chilled General Putra’s bones to see the Korth sign of disapproval. “We gave you,” he looked to everyone sitting around the table, “the technology needed to vanquish your enemies. Everything from your engines to your guns are better than anything the Americans have, yet they are able to hurt you.” He resumed pacing, his toes clicking. He stopped and turned his massive head back toward the Russians. He addressed Stalin. “It is a failure of leadership, not technology.” General Putra looked ready to vomit across the table.
Vannt continued in a booming voice. “General Polst.”
Polst had been watching General Putra’s discomfort with some relish, but when his name was called, all color drained from his face and he stood on wobbly legs, feeling needles in the back of his head. “Ex - Excellency?” His voice quavered.
“Your failure on the front caused the death of a Korth officer. His death is yet to be avenged. It is unacceptable!” The last word reverberated off the walls like gunfire. Stalin felt the compulsion to look at Vannt. His mustache quivered over his lip, but he managed to look him in the eyes. Vannt stared back and Stalin could feel the slight pain in the back of his neck, telling him his life was completely in the alien’s clawed hands. Vannt’s voice went low and icy. “Look to your man.”
Stalin and the whole contingent looked directly at General Polst, who stepped away from the table. His ornate chair toppled over and the noise made him jump. The embedded translator glowed in the side of his neck and Polst clutched it, his face contorting in pain. It spun, tearing the general’s skin, then it disappeared, trenching past and shredding his carotid artery. Blood spouted from the hole, spraying through Polst’s fingers. He went to his knees, his face contorted in agony. The device continued burrowing, moving deeper into his head and scrambling his brains. Polst’s eyes glazed and he flopped forward, mashing his nose into the hard wood floor, but he was past caring.
The room was utterly silent as they watched the blood pool and spread. Captain Vannt never took his eyes off Stalin who crinkled his nose as the smell of his general’s loosed bowels assaulted his senses. Vannt leaned forward and spoke slowly. “Don’t fail me again.”
Stalin tore his eyes from the corpse and swallowed against a dry throat. He shook his head slightly, “I won’t your Excellency, I assure you.”
Captain Vannt moved his attention to the German representative, Field Marshal Rommel, who controlled all of Europe from the UK to Spain and Italy, all the way to the border of Russia. “Are your preparations for the invasion of North America’s east coast moving along on schedule?” Vannt already knew the answer, he and his half a million comrades knew everything that went on in the alien occupied zones, but Rommel and the others couldn’t know that.
Erwin Rommel stood to ramrod straight attention and in clipped German said, “Yes, Excellency. With the help of President Quisling,” he indicated the leader of the Scandinavian countries, “We’ve amassed a mighty fleet off the western coast of England. Our submarines are ready to sail into the Atlantic and destroy American shipping and defend our troop transports and surface vessels. We have ten new aircraft carriers with full squadrons and half a million crack soldiers ready to move across the Atlantic. We only await your order, Excellency.”
Captain Vannt’s head expanded in pleasure. He sensed the confidence and arrogance of his field marshall. He’d chosen the European leader well, a much better choice than the deranged Adolf Hitler who’d been the most powerful German figure when they’d taken over a decade before. “Excellent, Field Marshall. Your time will come soon. Keep your men and women ready.” Rommel gave a curt nod and sat down stiffly.
Vannt looked to Mao Zedong and John Vorster. “I’ve reports that you are also ready to start your operations in the south. It should be no trouble for you to sweep through Australia, New Zealand then Hawaii. How many soldiers do you have ready, Mao?”
Mao stood and bowed curtly. “Excellency. We have a million soldiers ready to go. We are ready to sweep through the Pacific and take those territories whenever you give us the word. It will be an easy task.”
Vannt’s head throbbed with agreement. “Soon. Keep your forces ready and expect the order within the month.” Mao and Vorster nodded and bowed their thanks then sat.
Vannt raised his right hands and pointed toward the door. “Leave now.” Each leader sprang to their feet as if they’d been electrocuted. They streamed past the grisly body of General Polst, trying to keep from stepping into the congealed blood.
When the room was empty, Vannt pressed one of three buttons beneath the table. Instantly the door swung open and five beefy women dressed in hazmat suits entered. Two lifted the body onto a stretcher, while the others mopped and cleaned the blood. Within two minutes there was no evidence General Polst had died there.
When they were gone, he pressed another button and again the door swung open, this time six Korth entered and sat in the oversized chairs. Captain Vannt waited until they were seated then raised his four arms and began. “I’ve just met with the puppets. Their little war has them all occupied nicely. How’s the progress on the dig?”
Commander Vox stood, his broad chest rippled with muscle beneath the shimmering green uniform. “We are on schedule, Captain. As you know we have four sites and all four are operating well by this world’s standards. We will be deep enough to start extracting the product on the day we projected, ten earth years ago. Despite this world’s low technology and inferior grade metals, we are on schedule.”
“And the radiation is contained?”
Commander Vox’s head expanded in the positive. “Yes, contained and hidden from the humans, although I hardly think it necessary.” He looked to the other officers, some agreed some disagreed. “We could work faster if we didn’t need to take the time with containment.”
The top of Vannt’s head deflated slightly. “I know you disagree with this, and yes, it would expedite the process, however the humans, though their brains are leashed, couldn’t help to figure out our true motives and then we’d have more distractions.” He looked around the table then continued. “I don’t need to remind you that without our core online we are vulnerable to their rudimentary weapons, which is why we haven’t given them higher tech that could be turned against us.” The officer’s heads all flexed outward in agreement.
Commander Vox said, “I understand all this, sir. I just grow impatient to leave this cursed place.”
TR Cinter stood and addressed them. He was in male form and hadn’t morphed into female since landing on Earth. None of the Andros had and though it wasn’t brought up openly, not having female companionship made the entire Korth population edgy. “The captain’s plan keeps us
safe and assures our passage off this world. It is wholly backed by the TRs, Commander.” He turned his attention back to Captain Vannt. “We’ve been experimenting on the humans. They’re a strange species, wholly formed, yet ‘leashed’ as you say.”
Captain Vannt’s head deflated noticeably. “Experiments?”
His tone was clearly displeased but TR Cinter ignored it. Although Vannt was the lead officer of the ship, the TRs were not beholding to him or any other male Korth, regardless of rank. Cinter continued, “Yes, experiments on their minds and sexuality. Both of which are rudimentary and quite disgusting, but we feel, easily fixed.”
Captain Vannt’s head deflated more and the top turned a deeper shade of red. He had to choose his words wisely; the TRs were touchy when it came to military hierarchy. “Fixed? Is it wise to ‘fix’ them, as you say?”
Cinter’s head expanded and shimmered slightly, a sign of patience as though speaking with a dim child trying to understand higher mathematics. Vannt’s color went deeper. Cinter continued, “We may fix them as we leave. We feel they may become a useful species to us…eventually.”
Commander Vox couldn’t contain himself. “Useful? All I’ve found them useful for is dying in the pits. They don’t last long in the digs, their skin’s so thin, they die from the radiation, like Stellantian Worms. We must dress them in special suits and even those don’t keep them alive for longer than a few months.”
TR Cinter’s head deflated slightly. “Yes, they are curiously weak, however they have large brains and large libidos. The combination assures procreation, however without using their full potential, they’re doomed to destroy each other. It is an interesting juxtaposition.”
Captain Vannt spoke, “Why the sudden interest? We’ve been here ten earth years and now you take an interest? Half the planet will be uninhabitable once we’ve extracted what we need. They’ll die.”
Cinter focused on Vannt, hesitating before replying, making his head turn a deeper shade of red. “I will answer your question, though it’s not necessary.” He hesitated again, looking from one officer to the next, making them all fidget. “As you no doubt know, the TR haven’t turned female since landing here. This is not our doing. Something about this planet blocks our abilities to change. We think it has something to do with the chemicals the humans put off without even knowing it.”
Commander Vox’s head deflated and he muttered, “disgusting beings.”
Cinter continued, “yes, but nonetheless intriguing. We are studying the possibilities.”
Captain Vannt asked, “Is it reversible? Are you in danger?”
Cinter’s head took on the lighter shade once again then spoke softly. “This is why we are experimenting, Captain. We’re trying to unleash their minds so they’ll be able to control whatever chemical they’re producing. Once that happens we’ll be able to synthesize the chemical for our own use.”
It suddenly made sense to Vannt. “Ah, you hope to use it against our enemies.”
Cinter’s head expanded in affirmation, “It could keep our enemies from procreating. We could destroy them without firing a shot.”
The room was silent as they understood the ramifications. Vannt said, “Do you require anything from us? We will do whatever is necessary to expedite this process.”
Cinter’s head deflated slightly, “We have everything we need, however so far we’ve had no luck unleashing their minds without killing them. They simply aren’t strong enough and their organs shut down. We are searching for hardier test subjects, but so far we’ve been unsuccessful. I have no doubt our processes will improve and we’ll be successful. It will simply take time.”
Captain Vannt’s head expanded in understanding. “We’ll continue to dig and keep the humans fighting amongst themselves. If you need anything from us, it will be a priority.”
Fifteen
For Captain Willis and his submarine crew the last couple days had been one harrowing experience after another. They’d spotted the enemy fleet only days before and sent a coded message. Their transmission was interrupted when an enemy destroyer spotted them and they were forced to dive and evade as depth charges shook them to the core. They escaped the initial attack, but the destroyer crisscrossed the area dropping more depth charges. Hours later the enemy finally gave up, or assumed they’d been sunk.
When Captain Willis thought it safe, he brought the Sea Serpent to the surface in order to recharge their batteries and complete the transmission but were interrupted again when they spotted Russian planes slowly circling in an obvious search pattern. They were forced to dive again.
They weren’t spotted, but to be on the safe side, they stayed submerged for a few more hours, finally coming to the surface at night and completing their transmission. They popped the hatches to vent the stale recirculated air out and let fresh air in.
While surfaced, they received new orders to tail the enemy fleet and report only when it was safe to do so. They stayed on the surface until dawn then submerged again, forcing them to run on battery power. It slowed them down considerably, but the Diesel engines couldn’t be used while submerged. The fleet soon outpaced them. When they disappeared over the horizon, the Sea Serpent would resurface and catch up to them, then fade back, keeping just out of sight. It was a nerve wracking game of cat and mouse, and the strain showed on the sailor’s faces.
Captain Willis came down from topside and poured himself a cup of steaming black coffee and stood behind the sonar operator. They’re active sonar was off, but the sonar man, or SO had earmuff style headphones on and was concentrating on the ambient sounds of the sea. Captain Willis put his hand on the SO who jumped slightly at the touch and turned his head. SO Burnett pulled one side of the headphone off and greeted him, “Hello, Captain.”
“Hear anything interesting?”
Burnett answered, “I can still hear their engines. We’re keeping pace with them. Occasionally that damned destroyer breaks off and circles back, but it seems random. I don’t think they know we’re here, sir.”
Willis nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Keep at it. Without active sonar, you’re all we’ve got for an early warning system.”
Burnett nodded and replaced the headset. He listened then leaned forward and pressed the headphones against his ears. Willis noticed the change and waited. He sipped his coffee and tried to remember if it was his seventh or eighth cup. His stomach felt slightly queasy and he thought it would be a good idea to have some solid food.
Burnett adjusted a few of the black dials in front of him, then listened intently. Willis was just about to leave, when Burnett turned his head and was startled that Captain Willis was still standing there. Burnett pulled the headphones off one ear and said, “The sound’s changed. It sounds like they’re turning, changing direction.”
Captain Willis nodded, and checked his watch; it was mid-morning. “Probably turning into the wind to launch or recover aircraft. Let me know when they continue on course.”
Burnett nodded and replaced the headphones, “Aye aye, Captain.”
Willis went back to control and ordered a slow turn to starboard. Lieutenant Commander Stavos raised an eyebrow and Captain Willis addressed him. “Russians are turning, probably for air operations. Once that’s confirmed we’ll hang back, and relay the message. Maybe it’ll give the mainland a chance to launch and intercept them.”
Minutes passed before SO Burnett passed the word to LCDR Stavos who relayed it to Captain Willis. “Burnett hears aircraft. They’re definitely launching, Captain.”
Willis looked at his watch. “Got a timer going?” He knew they did, his crew was solid but he didn’t want any mistakes.
Stavos said, “Affirmative, Captain. Quartermaster Henley started it when he heard the first launch.”
A half hour later, Captain Willis extended the radio antenna. He wanted to get the word to the mainland that they could expect company from the west. Any launch longer than twenty minutes was considered a major operation and he didn’t w
ant to wait longer to warn them.
He passed the coded message to his radio operator and Linden immediately tapped it out and sent it. Willis ordered them to increase speed until they could see the surface vessels. After a few minutes at top speed, Lieutenant Rodrigues called him from his post on the conning tower. “I’ve got the fleet in sight, Captain.”
Willis nodded and answered, “Okay, get back inside, we’ll be diving soon.”
“Roger,” came the curt reply.
When the men were back inside and the hatches sealed, Willis ordered, “Dive. I want a low angle dive to periscope depth, batteries at full power.”
The sub angled down slightly then leveled off. He extended the periscope and pulled down the handles placing his eyes in the rubber slots.
He reminded himself it was bright outside, so he squinted until his eyes adjusted. The periscope was barely above the surface and it occasionally went under. He scanned 360 degrees before focusing north. The sea was calm and it looked like a beautiful day with a few cumulus clouds forming in the distance. He had to magnify to 3 times normal before he finally saw the dark dots of the enemy fleet. He was well back but he thought he could make out the even smaller dots of aircraft. They were so small, he wondered if he was imagining things.
Keeping his eyes on the periscope, he asked, “How’s our battery charge, Lieutenant?” He knew the answer but wanted confirmation.
“At ninety-five percent, Captain.”
Captain Willis folded the handles of the periscope and it dropped back into place, becoming just another beam in the ship.
He strode past crew members, feeling the building tension of being this close to the surface while enemy planes were in the area. The crew was nervous but they trusted their captain without fail. Despite the significant advances in submarine technology over the past ten years, it was still a dangerous job and having a Captain who knew what he was doing made all the difference. There was nothing the crew wouldn’t do for Captain Willis.
