Gods Dogs, Book 3

All those who seek to destroy the liberties of a democratic nation ought to know that war is the surest and shortest means to accomplish it.

Alexis de Tocqueville

The access hatch to the air scrubbers was a quarter-mile from the buildings. The air on the moon was mostly breathable, but the pressure was about half Earth-normal – around 7psi. Giant suction vents pulled the air in, ran it through scrubbers, and compressed it to a more comfortable 12psi to fill the living spaces.

The scrubbers needed periodic cleaning or replacement. The hatch, the team was waiting for River to open, was how the workers gained access to the scrubbers.

“I’m bypassing the door sensors,” River told them, “and I’m rigging our comm booster. And we’re good.”

The circular hatch popped open, and River hopped in.

“Ladder,” she said as she climbed down. “It seems clear, and it’s not a very big space.”

She kicked loose and slipped the rest of the way to the bottom of the shaft, her armored gloves controlling the descent in the fifteen percent gravity.

The others followed, closing the hatch behind them.

“We’ve got a connecting passageway that goes in both directions,” River reported. “My guess is the one going further out dead-ends. Going left.”

They explored the maze of the maintenance tunnels until River found a hatch to the interior.

“It’s a pressure door,” she said. “Not sure why they bothered for half an atmosphere.”

She began working on the controls.

“Okay. I’ve got it. I’ll leave another comm relay here.”

They crowded into the space, let the pressure equalize, and River slid out into the main complex.

“It’s clear,” she told them. “And we’ve got gravity.”

The rest of them exited and spread out. The lighting was subdued, and the hallway they were in was rough-cut stone, twenty feet wide and ten feet tall.

“We’re on the maintenance level,” Moss surmised. “If those plans we looked at are any guide, we’re on the third level down.”

Quinn said, “Let’s explore and map this level and find an elevator.”

They spread out again, two going left, two going right. They split again as more corridors intersected. Soon they began building a map of the facility.

After two days of sneaking around, they regrouped on the maintenance level near the airlock.

Pax began, “I figure there are 5,000 non-combatants, mostly women and children. Maybe 1,000 soldiers, and most of them are officers. They’re scared and angry. The families are mostly confused.”

Moss reported, “They are only occupying three of the five complexes. Not even roving guards for the other two. The middle one holds their command team. Like Pax said, they are short on enlisted and NCOs.”

River told them, “There are three fusion generators on the lowest level. Hydroponics garden and recycling on the next level up. Maintenance and storage on this level. Next level up, where all five modules meet up, is where the NSAI is and all their comms, sensors, and data storage is. The top level is housing and all the support stuff – cafeterias, schools, and whatnot. It’s also connected to all five modules. I’m tapped into the NSAI, but I haven’t taken it over yet.”

“It’s a pathetic lot,” Quinn observed. “I hope we don’t have to fight it out with them.”

“What are you thinking?” Pax asked.

“We get the marines in position. We take the command center. Then we talk to Elder Sembal,” Quinn answered. “If Maximus is right, that should be enough to convince them to surrender.”

Pax countered, “I did get close enough to Sembal to pick up that he’s not emotionally stable.”

“You think he might snap and order them to fight?” Moss asked.

“It’s likely.”

“We can’t take him out,” Quinn said. “That’s the politics of it.”

“Too bad we don’t have those obedience collars,” Moss muttered.

With two of the housing modules vacant, and River taking over the base’s NSAI, the marines landed and took position in the vacant modules without incident.

It wouldn’t be long, of course, for a company of marines to be noticed, though. Within an hour of the marines getting set up, the Coyotes took over the centrally located command office. Once that occurred, Quinn contacted Elder Sembal.

Once he was on the line, Quinn said, “The Machine Autocracy has the orbitals. Marines are positioned in the vacant modules of the base. We also hold the command deck and the base’s NSAI. We are offering you the opportunity to surrender.”

“Let me think about it,” the elder seethed and closed the channel.

Another channel lit up. River said, “It’s the ship.”

“Connect us,” Quinn directed.

“Quinn, two troop carriers just dropped out of hyper. They have a frigate for an escort.”

“That’s what those vacant modules were for,” Moss observed.

Quinn answered the ship, “You’ll offer them the chance to surrender, won’t you?”

GP Prime answered, “Yes.”

“We just offered Elder Sembal that option. I think he will wait to see if he has reinforcements or not. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to keep a line open so we can monitor your exchange with the incoming force and pipe it to Sembal.”

“Very well,” the captain said and closed the channel.

Murphy contacted them next. “They are setting up barricades, Quinn.”

“Yeah. Troop carriers just showed up. The androids will deal with them and keep us in the loop.”

“You think we’ll have a tussle?”

“Probably so.”

The destroyer moved to an intercept course with the troop carriers and frigate. When it was a light minute away, the captain hailed them. The conversation sounded through the base’s command console.

“Unknown convoy, this is the Machine Autocracy destroyer Phi-17. You are ordered to cut your engines, drop your shields, and prepare for a boarding party.

“We have occupied the moon base and we are negotiating the surrender of Elder Patonon Sembal and his forces. Your mission to reinforce him has failed. Heave to, or we will treat you as enemy combatants and fire on your ships. Message ends.”

Moss, who was pacing around the circular office of the command room, commented, “That was well said. Short, clear, and he let them know it was hopeless.”

Pax was monitoring the perimeter sensors. He responded, “Maybe they will heave to.”

Quinn said, “Depends on how fanatical they are.”

The two attack shuttles that dropped off the marines were still in the air above the moon.

“Quinn, AV-1, we’ve got a platoon exiting one of those maintenance tunnels.”

“Are you in position for a strafing run?”

“AV-2 is.”

“You’re cleared, AV-2. Take them out or force them back into the tunnel. Watch out for SAMs.”

“AV-2, cleared to engage.”

Quinn contacted Murphy, “Prepare for an attack.”

“Yeah, Quinn. They are staging now.”

“AV-2 is taking out a platoon on the surface that I figure was going to flank you.”

“Well, here they come. We can cover the command office from both sides, but a frontal assault on your position could work.”

“Thanks, Murphy,” Quinn said. “See you on the other side.”

There were two platoons with Murphy. The captain and the headquarters platoon stayed with the League delegation. Each platoon included a lieutenant and thirty marines, of which four were exo-suited heavy weapons teams. Even so, it was sixty marines against about 1,000 Chert military men. Most, if not all, were officers, which meant they never trained together as a unit. They would know the basics, though, but as the marines were witnessing, none of them wanted to charge the marine positions. Apparently, that was grunt work.

The marines held two of the five corridors that dumped into the common areas on the top two levels. Fifteen with one heavy weapon guarded each location. The command center was on the lower floor near the middle of the 800’ by 1000’ space. The communication links, the NSAI vault, data storage, and open spaces for meetings were also on this level. All of it was situated mostly between the two corridors the marines held and facing the three corridors the Chert held.

Since the layout was rectangular, three corridors were on one side of the open area, and two were opposite the end ones. The command center and adjoining rooms were facing the middle corridors – pretty much right across from where the soldiers were housed one level up.

On that level, all the support services were located between the two corridors the marines held. It was mostly open space to the corridors opposite them.

At Murphy’s order, all four heavy weapons opened up with rail guns to shatter the barricades the defenders erected. The troops followed with blaster fire and rifle-launched grenades.

As that was going on, the androids chased down the convoy. The sensors in the control room picked up a short battle.

Murphy reported in, “If they ever get their act together, we might have a problem.”

“They don’t seem interested in our control room,” Quinn answered.

“I think they are primarily worried about their women and children up here.”

“Okay. I’m sending Pax to go looking for Sembal. Don’t shoot him.”

“Tell him to make sure his IFF is turned on.”

Quinn chuckled and nodded to Pax. He exited the door nearer the marines.

“River,” Quinn went on, “did you booby-trap the generators?”

“Yeah. And I can remote detonate it as well. It won’t hurt the generators, but it will take out the controls to all the life support, including the grav-plates.”

“So we’ll be fighting in the dark at one-third gravity.”

“Yeah,” she grinned from her position at the communication console. “Okay. GP Prime is checking in. Putting him on speaker.”

“Captain,” Quinn greeted him. “What’s your report?”

“We have disabled the frigate and loaded its crew onto one of the troop transports. Prize crews are taking those ships to an internment camp. I will be back on station in six hours. I have also requested a troop ship for those at the base. It will arrive in eighteen hours.”

“That soon?’ Moss asked.

“We had one on standby in case we needed more room than what I have on the destroyer.”

“Well, you androids are efficient,” Moss said with a chuckle.

“That we are. Phi-17 clear.”

River closed the channel and said, “Yes, I piped it to the Chert.”

“They know they have six hours before the android fighters come in their back door,” Moss observed. “How many will want to go out in a blaze of glory?”

River added, “And right in front of their wives and kids.”

Pax worked his way through the maintenance level to where he could slip by two inattentive guards. His light armor camo feature was in a constant state of improvement, which amused him. He could project his presence and seemingly disappear without the camo. Only a highly aware person could catch that, and the Chert elite were not in that category. Especially not these officers.

As he passed them, one said, “I think our way of life is over.”

“In six hours the robots show up and then what?”

“I don’t know. Sembal will want us to fight to the death. I don’t think our general is that fanatical.”

“He’s not a combat general.”

“I know.”

Pax continued on and climbed an elevator shaft to get to the top level. Forcing the door, he slipped into the middle of the three compounds. Fronting the elevator was a hall that connected to four corridors lined with apartments and communal bathrooms. Further forward were offices and common areas with a cafeteria. Beyond that, where the four corridors ended, was the security area and a smaller control room. A short hallway from that was the larger common area where the battle was.

Pax hustled down the only empty corridor, the sound of battle now clear and getting louder. He eased into the security area and made himself small against the wall and observed.

There was a lot of scurrying around. Chert, in battle armor, hustling to the control room and then hustling away. Battle lines formed and reformed – two deep, then three-deep. Senior officers called out orders, and junior officers hurried to obey.

There were at least 200 of them trying to form a battle formation. The senior officers seemed to be arguing over what type of formation to use. Pax snickered at the confusion.

Taking an entrenched position from a stubborn foe meant casualties. There was no good formation. In the end, it was speed, cover fire, and luck that would win – that and the determination of the attacking soldiers. None of these soldiers were determined or disciplined enough to pull it off. The senior officers must have known that and were stalling for time, rather than sacrifice themselves in a pointless battle.

Through the window of the control room, Pax spotted Elder Sembal. He was shouting at an older-looking soldier – probably the general.

Pax looked up to the ceiling, twenty feet overhead. Ventilation ducting, conduits, and the framing to hold it all created a path from the common area, through the security area, and then to each housing corridor.

Activating the nano-grip fibers on his hands and knees, he slowly scaled the wall and followed the utility frame to the command room. Then he waited for the traffic to slow down.

The formation finally came together. Fifteen soldiers across and twelve deep, the front row carrying shields, they advanced. The second row laid down covering fire, and the third row launched grenades. However, the pace was too slow, Pax noticed. And sure enough, a backpack missile from one of the marine exo-skeletons hit the middle of the line and blew through the first three ranks.

In the ensuing confusion, Pax dropped to the floor and scurried into the control room.

The general, the elder, and two others were looking out the window at the mess.

“They can’t do that,” the general proclaimed. “Missiles inside a base is not allowed.”

Pax pulled his handgun and canceled his camo. Then he said, “If you aren’t cheating, you aren’t trying hard enough, general.”

Then he shot the general and the other two soldiers. They fell, and the elder looked at Pax in shock.

“I only stunned them,” Pax explained. “Now, you, on the other hand, I might need to kill. End this now, or I will.”

One consistent fact, that seemed to extend across species, and Pax felt was a function of sentient evolution, was bullies were cowards.

They worshipped power, as a result, aligned themselves with other bullies or strongmen, and rewarded those who did their dirty work. Even so, there never was enough power. They accumulated it by the buckets-full, and it didn’t quench the fires of their craven inadequacies. As such, seeking power became an addiction – a false god they adored at the expense of their True Selves.

Sadly, Pax knew, accumulating power did bring a certain charisma that was like a flame that attracted moths – the weak-minded, the bigots, or those who hoped to find favor from the ‘great ones.’

Pax impulse was to put the elder down like a rabid dog, but he breathed through that to look for the suffering boy, the scared inner child that prompted Sembal to become the power-seeking demagogue he now was.

“Do it,” Pax commanded, and the elder, his hand shaking, flicked the comm channel open.

“I am surrendering. Under protest, mind you. One of the Coyotes has me at gunpoint, so I must surrender. We will live to fight another day, my friends. Believe it.”

“Well, not the ones killed in that suicidal charge you ordered,” Pax said. “How many wasted lives, Sembal? How much carnage before you see that peace and freedom for all means peace and freedom for each?”

“We are the superior race. We should rule.”

“Rule what? A devastated wasteland where once there were gardens? You suffer from a sickness of the soul, Sembal. You have forsaken the sanctity of life for the illusion of control.”

Sembal sat in a chair, and Pax moved to turn off the comms.

Over the tac-net, Quinn said, “Good job, Pax.”

Moss added, “Maybe some of the troops got the message.”

Gunny Murphy chimed in, “They are laying down their arms. I’ll have them stack them in the common area. Then we’ll do a sweep.”