COMMANDER

The capital city and government would be the first target of the Shaquaree. Trooper Tamaria Bonel was assigned to Flynn’s wedge after her graduation. I had her brought up to the office.

“Trooper Bonel, good to see you again.”

She was stiffly at Attention. “Sir!”

“At ease, trooper. How are your suit skills?”

“Adequate, sir.”

“Well, they are going to get much better very quickly. We need your experience and knowledge of the RCF. With the Shaquaree coming down on them, I’m betting all of the old networks and communications will be restarted. If they ever stopped.”

“Yes, sir! I’d bet my life on it,” she responded.

We spent the next hour hammering out plans. Radio reports came in describing the Shaquaree landing in the city center and attacking without warning or discretion, simply destroying. Thousands of them, it was reported. Probably hundreds but still big numbers. The old ministry building, still rebuilding after our pummeling of it, had been completely destroyed. It and nearly every building in the downtown government center had been leveled. “Shock them silly,” a very effective way to encourage defeat in the enemy. Next, the Shaquaree would be going for the communications centers for radio and television.

Take away the enemy’s leadership and don’t let them talk to each other.

There had been no communications from the Shaquaree. We did not know if they were there because the Torbor had been overdue and they assumed problems and sent a fleet, or if they were still looking for us as a result of some partial transmission the late prime minister may have managed to send out. It didn’t really matter much.

We were nearly a thousand klicks from the capital. Without adequate transportation there was little good we could do quickly. We had two AVs but it would still require at least five round trips just to ferry personnel, and it was dangerous because the Shaquaree were grav-sensitive due to their relationship with the Torbor. It would be better if we could get our hands on several large Hanosian transport vehicles.

Ronin said, “You don’t know this, sir, but the Hanosian government put in a small transporter here. They didn’t even tell us, but, well, you know. We, um, kind of figured it out. No offense, Tam, but your people can’t keep secrets for shit.”

“None taken, sir,” Tam responded, “because I bet it had more to do with how good you and your teams are than with how poorly they kept secrets.”

Ronin almost smiled, and only said, “Perhaps.”

“How small?” I asked.

“Five at a time, Commander.”

“Does anyone here know how to operate it?”

“That’s the sticky part, sir. We really couldn’t ask without tipping our hand.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think we need to worry about it anymore. Spread the word. Find out who is here who knows how. There has to be someone. If it was me, I would have made sure that someone was a janitor or a cook, something innocuous.”

“I’m on it.”

This was the best news we’d had all day. If we could find an operator, that is. I had an idea.

“AI, do you have contact with Combat AI?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Find out if it is possible to gain operational instructions for the matter transference units. If you can get them, download and digest and let me know.”

“Access granted, downloading now, sir.”

“Lt. Jenkins.”

“Here, sir.”

“We have a five-pad transporter here and I’m getting the instructions now. We will work with Combat AI to develop a tactical plan utilizing the transporter and whatever other transportation we can arrange. Wrap any plans you require around those we develop.”

“Aye, aye, sir. So far the captain is out-maneuvering the Shaquaree quite handily, and he’s been holding back full power as an ace in the hole . . . same with shields. Two of their battleships are getting pretty close, though, and they will likely begin shooting within thirty minutes or so.”

“Very well. Keep me informed. Wolf out.”

One of the new team Yankee, Trooper Jim Waters, aka Bear, was striding up beside Ronin holding a man off the ground by the scruff of his coveralls.

“Found him, sir,” Waters said in a deep, rumbling voice. “He’s the gofer fix-it-all for the compound. As soon as we asked about the transporter he started yowling about how we got no right to even know about this unit, much less use it. It’s supposed to be secret, it’s a violation of rights, blah-blah-blah. Bottom line, he’s refusing to help us.”

“No problem, Bear,” I answered. “Cuff him hands and feet, put him in an AV under a restriction field and have the bot trank him.”

“You got it, sir.”

Bear walked away with the technician now struggling and screaming something about us not being able to do that.

“AI, link comms with line officers. Do you have the instruction set digested, yet?”

“Another fifteen seconds, sir.”

“We have the full instruction set for the transporter downloaded by my AI. You heard it will be ready to operate the unit in a matter of seconds. I will have it send the instruction set to each . . .”

“Already done, sir,” the AI interrupted. “All officer suits are now ready to operate the transporter device.”

“Is it too complex for a human to grasp immediately?”

“Not at all, sir. Even if an AI was not programmed into the device, any human of normal intelligence should be able to learn the basics within minutes with us there to coach. Expertise can be learned with only a few training sessions. If an AI is present, a child could do it.”

“Very good. Here is my idea, team. The Shaquaree are known to be a hive-like society, maternal-dominant, and every contact we have had with them has borne this premise out in one form or another. If we can get a small team into their command structure here on the ground to take out the officers and disrupt communications with the ships, we may disorient them enough to shorten battle time, perhaps even capture a few. Thoughts?”

“We need to link up somehow with the RCF to ensure we don’t unnecessarily endanger any humans,” Tam put in immediately.

“Plus, we need to see about alternate transportation for the wedges,” said Flynn, “if we’re gonna get there in time to do our part. The RCF may be able to help us with that, as well.”

“We’ll need a multi-pronged attack plan if we hope to keep the surgical strike from turning into a suicide run,” stated Harris.

He was trying to help, I know, but he did get the “No shit, Sherlock?” groans from a couple of the others. It was not easy, trying to learn the shifting lines between need to know, good information, and overstating the obvious. I didn’t chide him. Instead, I let him run with it. The experience of planning under pressure would do him good.

“State your ideas, Lt. Harris.”

“Well, sir, the river runs . . .”

Not bad for his first time in the barrel. The others modified his ideas on the go without too much bloodletting. While they were wrangling, my AI informed me of radio traffic concerning air cover for a supply column traveling not too far from where we were standing.

“Tam, get on the radio and see if you can contact this supply column and get any details from them on what they have and where they’re going. My AI has the frequencies.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“And, Tam, it’s perfectly fine to respond to orders with ‘On it, sir,’ or something like that when in battle situations. Formality is a luxury out here,” I reminded her.

She smiled. “Got it, sir.”

Jenkins interrupted. “Wolf!”

“Here.”

“We’re under fire now. They are shooting a missile at us with some sort of grav warhead. As best Dotes can figure it, the missiles create a sort of very small and intense gravity well when they go off. The idea is the G-forces would rip apart a ship with weak shields. So far we’re doing fine but we had to dial up shields to near maximum to avoid more damage.”

“Is it bad?”

“No, only some minor hull damage and venting but we stopped it up immediately. The only question now is whether those are the strongest gravity bombs they have. So far, we took out one of the battleships with photonic missiles. Damn thing went up like we hit a main armory magazine. Gotta go. Jenkins out.”

“AI, time on ground?”

“Forty-seven minutes, Commander.”

“We’re running out of time, troopers!” I announced. “They have already leveled many capital government buildings and they will soon be sending out shuttles to the other continents’ capital cities, and then they’ll walk down the scale of priorities just like we would. We need to stop them in the main capital!”

“Wolf!”

It was Tam.

“Go.”

“The president and most of the cabinet got out, sir. They have been taken to an underground hideout several klicks outside the city. According to all reports received by this column, the Shaquaree aren’t asking questions or searching for our leadership, they are just destroying everything in their path.”

Arrogant bastards!

“That simply confirms our suspicions they intend to make this planet an example. Why the Torbor are no longer able to protect Hanos is unknown but obviously their protection is at an end. The faster we move, the more lives we may save. What is in the convoy shipment, Tam?”

“Hand weapons and ammo for the Defense Force, sir.”

“How far away are they, AI?”

“Three klicks at their closest point of approach, and currently four klicks south of there, heading north toward the capital. At their present speed, ETA ten minutes to closest approach.”

“Air cover?”

“Three helicopters armed with ATG missiles, sir.”

“Okay. Flynn! Take your group on a run and intercept those trucks, and take Tam with you. Tam, convince them to stand down, because we are taking those trucks one way or another. Hand weapons and ammo will do the Defense Force no good whatsoever against the Shaquaree so it’s a wasted run anyway. Flynn, you know what to do.”

“I do, sir! Get the trucks, head north, and join with the Defense Force to lead a counterattack on your mark. I’m on it!”

“Harris, take the two AVs. Toss the technician out on his ear and leave him cuffed so security here can deal with him. Stuff as many troopers inside as you can, hell, strap ’em to the outside if you have to, and get into position within the hour.”

“On it, Commander!”

“Ronin! We have twenty-four people to transport. See if you can get some real-time scans of the capital from the ship AI. Look for a quiet or hidden site for us to gather in for our effort to identify the officers in charge of the Shaquaree.”

With the size of this transporter, it would take us five long minutes to cycle everyone through. Five minutes is a lifetime when you’re headed into the enemy’s stronghold and you have no real idea if they will detect the troopers transporting into their midst. If we could get in quietly and undetected to spring suddenly forth in a surprise attack, we would have a distinct advantage. If not, well, war is hell, they say.

If the Rontar could not defeat the Shaquaree ships, it didn’t matter anyway. Those remaining in space would simply pound the planet with irradiating missiles. It was a tall order in anyone’s book for either of our efforts to see success, but it’s never stopped us before. It never will if I have anything to say about it.

“Jenkins.”

No response.

“Peters.”

“Here.”

“Status.”

“They are slamming us with missiles like you can’t believe, sir! Hundreds! The captain has plotted a course which will take us in a kind of corkscrew trajectory to, hopefully, draw the Shaquaree ships closer in to us so we have a better chance of deploying the big guns, and still get us closer to the planet, too.”

“How are the troopers?”

“Staying busy, sir. We figured out a way to tie the LCs into the ship’s shields in a way which actually increases both and deploys the LCs about a klick out and rotating around the ship as a center axis. Then, we stuck AVs on the outside of the LCs for additional firepower. Between them and the SNIPEs, none of the enemy missiles are getting close to us anymore. ’Course, we can’t get to them, either, but they have a lot more to fire than we do. Every once in a while we get a shot with a laser or the Grafnal as we go through our rotations, though.”

“Are they effective?”

“It’s like the fucking Freedom Holiday, Commander! The beams go straight in and shit starts blowing up all over the place! We took out two more before they caught on and backed away.”

From the tone in his voice and his choice of words, I could just imagine the big grin on Peters’ face.

“It’s obvious they’ve never had to contend with this amount of power before,” Peters continued. “Dotes says he’d bet his left nut they don’t have AC, either.”

“Good work, Trooper!”

“Not me, sir. It was Jenkins who thought of the LC idea. He thought about using the LCs and AVs as extra firepower and Dotes’ people figured out how to deploy them. They were . . . Holy shit! One moment, sir.”

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. I took a breath.

“I’m back, sir. One of the LCs is gone with both AVs and crews, but they took their price, sir,” Peters said grimly. “The AV gunners fired every mini-missile they had in a spray pattern and the Rontar fired a quantum missile behind the spray of minis. Apparently the anti-missile weaponry of the Shaquaree read the minis and targeted them, allowing the quantum to get through to striking distance. It went off directly at the shield event surface of the Shaquaree battleship and took it out. Plasma and debris caught the LC. Plasma heated the shields enough to short out the power couplings and the LC went off like a bomb when the shields failed and debris got through.

“They are down to six, now. Three running from us and the three over the planet. Cap’n just throttled up the speed and we’re coming up behind another one now. Yeouw! There it goes! The other two are splitting off and running. Probably let us head for the planet then try to outflank us. I gotta go, sir, the captain is calling for fighters to launch.”

“Good hunting, trooper!”

“I copied and relayed the lieutenant’s report to the others, sir,” reported my AI.

“Good work, AI. Thanks.”

“Ronin!”

“Ready, sir. Transporter is powered and the teams are lined up.”

“Let’s do it!” I yelled and ran for the transporter.