by N. W. Harris
After they ate, Shane and Steve climbed the ladder into the control room. He glanced back at Tracy one last time on his way up, and she gave him a tired grin. She was a rock. Even though he knew she suffered over losing Jules, she seemed determined to keep a good attitude to the end.
Pelros watched his uncle go into his room and stared at the door after it closed. He was overjoyed at having the first opportunity to command a mission, but he also worried about his uncle. He’d lived with Athos for most of his life, and although the general excelled at hiding his emotions, Pelros had learned to detect subtle hints that told of his uncle’s true mood.
He could tell something was bothering the general, but decided it was better not to press him with questions. Although everyone still recovered from the loss of the rest of the fleet, Pelros sensed something else had happened to further upset Athos. He was like a father to him, and he was also his commanding officer. Pelros could push issues further than any soldier under the general’s command could, but he knew better than to cross the line.
He looked back at his computer monitor, studying the specifications of the new human slaves. As a whole, they scored higher on their preliminary martial evaluations than any other slave species harvested in the history of the Anunnaki Empire. That wasn’t a surprise. They’d been engineered to be the best, and special contingents of Anunnaki had interacted with the humans to ensure they matured into the perfect soldiers. They were the product of a long-term experiment that was of great public interest on Anu. Everyone expected the humans to be amazing.
What surprised Pelros was how well the three humans had performed against the wolves. He’d been a student of martial arts and military science since he was old enough to stand. The neural uploads given to all recruits equipped them with enough training to make them formidable, but it took real combat experience to hone those skills and to develop the killer instinct. The three humans who’d been pitted against the wolves had performed like seasoned warriors, like soldiers who’d seen more than one battle and had undergone extensive training.
“Create a filter using Kelly Douglas’ profile,” he ordered. “Show me the top ten slaves with a combat readiness within ninety percent of hers.”
“Working,” the computer responded with a soft female voice.
Pelros watched images of slave recruits flash across the screen. On the right, the picture of Kelly was at the top. The computer found slaves matching the parameters he specified, and their pictures filled in below hers. The second slave soldier to pop up was Jules, the female who’d been in the arena with Kelly. Third was the boy who’d been killed. His uncle had chosen the best soldiers in the harvest to represent the humans in the arena.
Anger returned when he saw the picture of the dead slave, and Pelros deleted him from the search. It was such a waste. The boy might have been a huge asset in the war. Four other slave soldiers’ pictures came up after Jules, all with a ninety-five to ninety-eight percent relative combat effectiveness to Kelly. They were amongst the soldiers slated for leadership positions, those isolated in the smaller berthing with Kelly and Jules.
“No other slave soldiers meet the parameters specified,” the computer reported.
Pelros leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Show me four more slaves who are closest to the sample.”
The computer continued its scan, providing the rest of the candidates for his selection. His eyes widened when he saw the specs of the next slave soldier on the list. It was a male with only sixty percent of the combat readiness as the lowest one on the initial scan. He was confused. Out of the ten thousand recruits on the ship, how could six slave soldiers, seven counting the one who’d died, be so superior to the rest? Perhaps they had been members of the group that attacked the other ships. It didn’t matter now, all the scans showed they were fully enslaved, and they’d even passed Kilnasis’ bloody trial in the coliseum. Pelros smiled at the irony; he’d use these slaves who might have been sent to destroy the Pegasus against those who’d attacked the other ships. It would break the enemy to see their comrades turned against them, and he’d recruit the rest of the elite humans after he killed the rebels or whoever commanded them.
As perplexing as the data was, it was a blessing from the gods to have the six superior slaves at his disposal. They would help make his mission a success. Hitting transmit, he sent his list of slave soldiers to his uncle. Athos had trusted him with what may turn out to be the most important mission of his career. He wanted to exceed expectations and was determined to prove he was a capable leader.
The general had loaded a basic mission plan, and Pelros studied it and the specs on the soldiers he’d chosen until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. When he finally went to bed, he dreamed of the mission and of the promotion that would surely come if he succeeded. In his dreams, his uncle was so proud of him, and the ship’s council promoted him to commander in the coliseum, announcing that any connection between the lieutenant and his rebel father should be forever forgotten.
Pelros awoke the next morning excited and a little saddened by the dream. He hated that he’d been judged all his life by his heritage, but he also felt a twinge of guilt for wanting to forget the man who’d donated his DNA and paid to have him cloned. Ancestry was a source of great pride for all his friends, and Pelros despised that he had to make people forget his. He’d worked hard in school and had to fight for every ounce of respect he garnered, and his counterparts were granted respect based on who sired them. Today could change all that. He burst from his bed and donned his armor.
His uncle had already left the apartment. While devouring his breakfast, he checked the news feed and discovered the results of the vote. The citizens had decided to go with Athos’ plan and continue the harvest. No surprise there. If his uncle’s plan worked, each citizen on the ship would earn a share of the profits from the harvest. The poorest citizen on the Pegasus would become one of the richest people in Anu if they could successfully recruit even a quarter of the population on the planet below. After a rushed meal, he made his way down to the main hangar bay with his helmet under his arm.
Athos waited in the room outside of the massive chamber that was used to launch and retrieve the transports and complement of fighter craft carried by the Pegasus.
“Neural testing and games in the coliseum are enough to help us sort new recruits,” Athos explained to a group of wide-eyed young aristocrats who had come to watch the proceedings for entertainment. “But there is no substitute for real combat. Today, we will see what these human soldiers are capable of.”
Pelros smiled politely at the nobles, but he was disgusted by their presence. Several of the females returned his gaze with flirtatious grins. Athos had been trying to get Pelros to court one of the aristocrats for the last two years, but he couldn’t stand their frivolous perspective on life. His uncle had told him that the best way to make people forget who his father was would be to marry into the royal class. The way they lived, glutinous for the spoils of war without risking their unblemished flesh, made him sick. Sensing his uncle’s eyes on him, Pelros nodded at the ladies and walked out into the hangar bay. He hoped the mission at hand would make his marriage to one of the overly made-up females unnecessary.
His small contingent of soldiers stood at parade rest in formation inside the hangar. The five Shock Troops stood in front, with two rows of slave soldiers behind them. Pelros hated that he hadn’t been inducted into the Shock Troop ranks yet. His chest armor was barren, with only his lieutenant bars on it. Although he outranked the Shock Troops who’d be going on this mission with him, he expected they must think him inferior. He’d far exceeded the requirements needed to join them, but his father’s rebel activities had held him back.
“Attention,” one of the Shock Troops ordered when she saw Pelros.
He walked through their ranks, inspecting their armor and weapons. Everything was charged and ready for combat. Coming in front of the squad, he looked in each of their eyes. H
is uncle stood nearby, allowing him to address his soldiers as the senior officer. Pelros’ pulse raced, and he struggled to keep calm though he nearly burst with excitement.
“As you know, our rifles have been modified so the pulses are nonlethal,” he began. “When we get down there, we will dart a group of humans and gain control of them. Our goal is to demonstrate that this new technology works in the field.”
The aristocrats had followed Athos out, and they were standing behind the squad. Off to the side, a sailor in a white uniform held a camera on Pelros. The entire ship was watching. He spoke loudly and with as much authority as he could, exuding confidence as he’d learned from his uncle.
“The humans’ self-destructive behavior has gone on for too long,” he continued. “They will be extremely aggressive and unpredictable.” A couple of the aristocrats clapped when he said this. Pelros ignored it, focusing his attention on his soldiers. “I don’t want a single casualty down there today—we’ve suffered enough loss in this harvest as it is. Keep your eyes and ears alert and be ready for anything. Understood?”
“Sir, yes sir!” his squad responded in unison.
Pelros raised his right fist above his head. “For Anu, we fight. For Anu, we live and die. Honor and glory!”
“For Anu, we fight. For Anu, we live and die. Honor and glory!” the squad repeated, all raising their fists in the air.
“Load up,” Pelros ordered, stepping aside.
His soldiers marched into the open back of the small transport, strapping themselves into the seats on either side. Athos stepped across the yellow caution line, leaving the group of chattering aristocrats behind. He stepped in front of Pelros, his back to the royals.
“The mission has changed. I’ve moved the landing site,” Athos said.
Pelros looked down at the display built into the forearm of his armor.
“That’s a major city,” he replied, concerned.
“It is.” Athos spoke in a quiet voice. “And the transport’s cargo bays are loaded with syringes to propagate the harvest. I’ve already briefed your team on the changes.”
“So are we still bringing back a sample?” Pelros’ pulse raced. This new assignment sounded more dangerous, but it also meant more glory.
“If things go well, you’ll be doing a lot more than that. The full mission plan is in your computer. Be careful down there,” Athos warned, his eyes showing his concern. “You’re all the family I have.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” Pelros replied, a little unnerved by his uncle’s sudden and unusual show of emotion. “We will complete the mission.”
“I don’t doubt that you will.”
Pelros snapped to attention, brought his fist over his heart, and saluted Athos.
His uncle returned the salute. Pelros suppressed the urge to wrap his arms around him and hug him like he did when he was little. The aristocrats would have far too much fun with such a spectacle. He pivoted and walked stiffly into the transport. He took the field commander’s seat near the rear hatch, which was elevated above the rest so that he could keep an eye on his troops and give orders.
After putting his helmet on, he pulled the restraining bar down and kept his eyes forward. Taking a deep breath, he forced the air to the bottom of his belly. When he exhaled, he pushed all emotion aside. It was time to become a machine, time to turn on the soldier and turn off everything else. The hatch closed, and the transport rocked as it lifted off the deck.
“Lieutenant Pelros, sir,” the pilot’s voice chirped in his earpieces. “Are we going in hot or should I kill the engines and glide down once we’re up to speed?”
“Glide in—full stealth. Cut all power including life support after we break atmosphere. We’ve all got our helmets on back here,” ordered Pelros through the microphone built into his helmet.
“Glide in on full stealth, aye sir,” replied the pilot.
It would make for a much rougher descent, but Pelros wasn’t going to chance being detected by whatever force was capable of destroying the rest of the fleet.
The small craft passed out of the hangar into space. Leaving the artificial gravity in the Pegasus, he felt his breakfast floating in his stomach. Zero gravity didn’t make Pelros vomit anymore, though he usually experienced some momentary nausea when he went from gravity to no gravity. The porthole on the opposite side of the ship afforded him a view of the planet. It was dark beneath them, but the sun started to illuminate the eastern horizon.
The pilot nosed the ship down, gave a burst on its thrusters, and then shut down almost all the power on the transport. The cabin went dark, the dim light of the rising sun growing in intensity. They headed west, away from the sun, and fell like a meteorite into the thick atmosphere. Pelros hoped to complete the mission under the cover of darkness. When they lifted off from the planet, anyone looking at the skies from hundreds of miles around would see the transport’s thrusters, but by then, hopefully it wouldn’t matter.
The edges of the porthole glowed from friction in the planet’s atmosphere. Earth was slightly bigger than Anu and its atmosphere denser. The pilot had to be especially careful to control their descent angle, or they could be incinerated. His uncle had provided his favorite pilot for the mission, a sailor who’d been doing drops for as long as the general had been an officer, so Pelros wasn’t worried in the least.
The porthole glowed brighter until it was covered in orange and he couldn’t see through it. The ship trembled, decelerating. Within moments, the heat on the hull dissipated, and Pelros could see outside once again.
“We are in atmosphere and supersonic,” the pilot calmly reported.
A layer of clouds devoured the moonlight. There was utter darkness outside. They had the perfect conditions—no one would see them. When his uncle had proposed the idea of the Pegasus continuing the harvest, the plan was to do a test of the new technology on a small, isolated group of humans. But General Athos had changed the plan. He had Pelros’ team landing on a football field in the middle of a major city.
The football field part excited him. He’d watched televised games intercepted and transmitted to Anu for years. Human sports were very popular back home. They demonstrated the physical superiority of humans as warriors and their ability to improvise during stressful situations.
Pelros glanced at his human soldiers. Even while seated, they maintained a position of attention, their helmet-covered heads facing forward and their arms crossed over the restraining bar, exactly as they were programmed. They were such magnificent creatures. They were superior tacticians, especially in the heat of combat. Most species were easy to defeat. Once you hit them hard and overwhelmed their preplanned defenses, they would fall apart. With humans, it was different. The harder you hit them, the more they’d fight back. Thank the gods these super soldiers belonged to the Anunnaki. If they were independent and left to evolve for a few more thousand years, it might be Anu that was being harvested, not Earth.
He brought up the new mission plan on the screen inside his visor, guessing his uncle didn’t have the royals’ permission to move the landing to the higher population density area. Athos knew how to bend the rules, and he always got away with it. He’d be forgiven this time too when he made the royals a whole lot richer.
While he was thrilled at the idea of landing on a football field, it unnerved him that it was located in the heart of a major city—Atlanta. The name reminded him of the early Anunnaki settlement on Earth, Atlantis, though he learned there was no direct connection in its naming. Although a major portion of its population was dead, and most of the younger humans would have migrated toward recruit ship landing sites, scans showed over a hundred thousand humans, many of them the more dangerous ones who were in their teenage years, still occupied the city.
The plasma rifles stored in the locker near the rear hatch were non-lethal. If the plasma darts they fired did their job, the target would be rendered unconscious, then they’d wake and be under the contr
ol of one of the slave soldiers on the transport. The recruit ship orbiting above didn’t have the capacity to control more than twice its full complement of ten thousand, which was where Uncle Athos’ design passed into the realm of genius.
Each of the slaves in his transport received coding during their mission plan neural upload that hyper-activated their pineal glands. They should be able to take transmissions from the Pegasus and amplify them to any new slave recruits within a precise area surrounding the slave soldier. So, if his little squad survived the first half hour of the assault, the darted humans would wake up and join them in the fight.
Attacking a small, isolated group of humans had seemed easy. But there were an overwhelming number of potential recruits in Atlanta, and many of them were armed. Because they’d been so close to the limbic manipulator weapon that had cleansed out the adults, they’d suffered some different effects than the rest of the globe’s population. These kids were homicidal, but they were also a bit more organized than the others were.
As risky as it was, his uncle’s plan was brilliant. If Pelros and his team could pull this mission off, they could recruit the population of Atlanta. They’d have enough slaves to start a chain reaction across the planet. The screen floating in his visor showed half a million tiny syringes filled the cargo compartments lining the side of the transport, each with the capacity to transmit one slave plasmid. Instead of modified plasma rifles, these devices would be distributed to the new recruits, who’d use them to propagate the harvest.
The ship banked right and left in a descent pattern that would help to slow them.
“We are subsonic. We’ll be on the ground in five,” the pilot’s voice chirped into his ear.
Pelros took a deep breath, clearing the exciting prospects of the mission from his mind. During his relatively short career as an Anunnaki marine, he’d been in enough fights to learn how to control his emotions, good or bad, and focus on the job at hand. They hadn’t fired a single pulse yet, and he had a lot of work ahead of him before they could celebrate. He opened the com-link in his helmet so it connected to his squad.
