Peace World (17 page)

Unfortunately, the heat emitted by the motherships was too intense for the jets to approach, and firing missiles from kilometers away had proven useless.  They would have to wait until the ships landed, then attack anew.

"Roger, Alpha One," he acknowledged the pilot.  "Pull back and wait for the ships to land, then proceed as planned."

Mouse sat back in his seat and listened as Alpha One passed instructions along to the other jets.  He tapped his right foot nervously.  It was a tic he had picked up and, after unsuccessfully trying to rid himself of the habit, had finally embraced the activity as a normal part of his disposition.  It soothed him, helped him think.

It seemed like hours, but less than five minutes had elapsed since the ships burned through the upper atmosphere and began their landing sequence.  Mouse had watched helplessly as video feeds showed the alien ships' engines massacring large swaths of his forces as they rushed to escape the intense heat.  Not a single weapon had been fired, and already thousands of humans were dead or dying—their tanks, carriers, and artillery now useless against the Minith. 

A similar scene was now playing out in Urop as the two motherships initiated similar landings there.  He hoped the couple of extra minutes of warning that he had been able to give those forces might lessen the damage.

The weight of each death was a boulder upon his shoulders, and Mouse finally understood why Grant often seemed distant, angry, and obsessed with training.  Living with the knowledge that your decisions and actions were responsible for the deaths of those in your care seemed impossible.  He pushed those thoughts aside for now, though, and reminded himself what he was fighting
for
—his son, his wife, his race, and his planet. 

One of the alien vessels was completing its landing three kilometers to the west of the prison, the other one three kilometers to the east.  When their engines shut down, as they would eventually, his jets would swoop in and deliver their own death blows while his remaining tanks and artillery units—mostly from the north and south—moved into position. 

Mouse relished the idea of dealing some death back to the invaders. 

*     *     *

Treel finally stopped pacing and listened. 

The impatience, doubt, and anger of the past seven years crumbled as a feeling of relief and hopeful anxiety crashed over him.  His people had arrived, and from the aural clues delivered to his overlarge ears, they had returned with at least two motherships.  One was landing to the east, the other to the west. 

Forgoing the comfort of a chair, the Minith lowered himself wearily to the floor, suddenly exhausted from days of non-stop pacing. 

The questions he had asked himself over and over for the past years—when will they arrive, why haven't they come—were forgotten.  Instead, his thoughts turned to the coming hours and days.  The battle would begin and many humans would die.  He craved to be a part of the action, but the walls surrounding him prevented him from joining the fight.  The best he could do was silently urge his people to victory and wait for the inevitable outcome.  His freedom would be restored soon. 

The idea of finally escaping this planet caused him to consider his future and his family.  Had Rala waited for him, or had she taken another?  Would his sons remember him after so much time?  Would he recognize them when he saw them?

He fell asleep on the hard floor considering the answers.

CHAPTER 22

Soo watched the large screens in joyous rapture as the ships landed.  The view of melting vehicles and torched human bodies was glorious, and the excitement in the command center spread quickly throughout the rest of the ship.

The heat of the engines had done its job well.  Nearly half of the human forces below the two ships had been caught in the fire zone.  Early reports from the two ships landing halfway around the planet were also positive.  The Minith return to Earth was off to an excellent start.

"As soon as the engines shut down, I want all vehicles out of the bays.  Proceed to contact with the humans, form attack lines, and work left to right around the building." 

General Soo issued standard Minith battle orders.  The forces from both ships would deploy in east/west lines—one line to the east of his mothership, the other to the west of the second ship.  Each line would then fight through the humans in a circular, clockwise motion. 

"Begin mopping up this mess."

*     *     *

"This is Alpha One.  The bay doors are opening on the ship to the east."

"Alpha Two.  Same on the ship to the west."

"Roger, Alphas One and Two," Mouse replied.  "Whatever comes out of those doors, light it up."

"You got it, General!"

Mouse passed along similar orders to the hundreds of tank and artillery commanders who were still battle capable.  Most were repositioning themselves after the mad dash to safety, but those who could replied in the affirmative.  It was obvious they were all anxious to deliver their own brand of pain to the Minith. 

*     *     *

Minith transport vehicles were another marvel of the Waa.  Collapsible during storage, each vessel took up only a few square feet of space while in storage aboard the mothership.  The collapsible nature of the shuttles provided maximum use of space and allowed more room on the mothership for troops.  Although unarmored, the transporters were extremely maneuverable.  When operating at peak efficiency, a wave of twenty vehicles could be prepared for flight, loaded with twenty armed warriors each, and sent out the bay doors in under a minute.  With successive waves following the first every sixty to ninety seconds, the entire contingent of a hundred transporters, carrying up to two thousand troops, could be on its way in less than six minutes.

The first wave of troop transporters left the bay doors of General Soo's mothership as soon as the doors opened.  The first vehicle in the wave made it a hundred meters before being smacked from the air by a volley of missiles launched by the leading pair of human assault vehicles.  A second transporter was knocked from the sky almost as quickly. 

When the third transporter went down within sixty seconds of leaving the ship, Soo woke up to the reality that he was in a serious battle with a deadly foe.  The sheep apparently had teeth and were willing and able to use them. 

"Transports, drop to ten meters," he ordered quickly, anxious to avoid more Minith deaths.  Despite being the fastest, most maneuverable transport vehicles in the Minith fleet, his carriers were no match in a head-to-head contest with the lethal human aircraft.  "Use evasive measures until you reach your offload points."

He passed the tactic on to the two motherships that were just now landing on the far continent, then refocused his attention to the upcoming battle in front of him.  

The first wave of transport craft had just reaching the offload point deep within the confused mass of scattered human forces.  The close proximity of the human forces seemed to deter the deadly fighters who called off their attacks on the initial wave to focus on the follow-on wave of Minith transporters.  He took a quick survey and saw that only thirteen of the vehicles in the first wave had reached their objective.  The other seven, along with the hundred and forty warriors on board, had been destroyed. 

As he watched and seethed, the first of the transport vehicles in the second wave went down. 

He growled deep in his throat and ignored the looks he received from the half-dozen underlings manning the ship's command center.  After considering his options, he quickly opened a link to Master Shan, the commander of the two-ship force assigned to destroy the human political target.  Shan was the perfect choice for this assignment.  He had spent a year on Earth fifteen years earlier as a lieutenant.  He knew humans and had dealt with their leaders.

"Master Shan, this is General Soo.  Here is what I want you to do…"

*     *    *

Although the ships were landing twenty kilometers away, the heat and noise they expelled penetrated the thick walls of the Leadership Council Building.  People were dying where the ships landed, and Randalyn added another transgression to the mountain of crimes the Minith had inflicted upon Earth since they first dropped from the sky. 

How any human alive could still hold on to the false promise of Peace after all the aliens had done to their world was beyond the N'mercan Culture Leader's comprehension.  But these people existed—their heads buried firmly in the sand. They were ignorant or uncaring of what happened in the world as long as the attackers' actions never touched their lives directly.  As long as their loved ones were safe, they remained content, casually able to look the other way.  The problems of the world belonged to
others
.  Others would step up and take care of them.  Others would pick up the gun or wield the sword and fight for what was right, if fighting was required. 

Randalyn thought back over humanity's last few hundred years.  In hindsight, it was not difficult to see where they had gone wrong.

Peace is a utopian concept—an honorable and noble condition to which humanity should aspire.  But Peace is conditional, and not without pitfalls.  Extended periods of Peace deliver contentment to a population.  This contentment, when taken for granted, often leads to indifference.  Indifference often allows uncontested acts of wrongdoing and evil. 

As the noise of the descending Minith ships ceased, the Culture Leader recognized the indifference that had allowed Earth to become slaves.  Their inability and unwillingness to fight the invaders had delivered them to the place where they now found themselves—woefully unprepared to defend against another invasion.

Regardless of how unprepared they were, though, she was committed to doing her part.  If she had to die defending her world against the aliens, she would do so gladly.

The window, one of three that looked out of the council chambers on the third floor of the building, offered an excellent view.  The park across the wide avenue below them was filled with nearly a thousand soldiers and their equipment.  They were dug into defensive positions and she noted that all their weapons faced west, toward the direction of the aliens' landing site. 

Like her, they waited for the arrival of the invaders.  Like her, they knew it would not be long.

The weapon she held offered a surprising degree of comfort.  She ran a hand along its length, absorbing the cool feel of its smooth, metal surface.  The coolness helped absorb some of the clamminess on her palms.

She looked around the room at her peers.  Diekela Mamun and Sabatina Sabontey sat at their normal places, their rifles leaned casually against the long table.  Neither spoke nor made eye contact.  They appeared content to be alone with their thoughts. 

Quasan Allah was pacing quietly along the back wall of the room.  His head was down and his lips moved in prayer.

The two windows to her right were occupied by Primo Esteval and Suyung Trey.  Though they had not discussed what they would do when the Minith arrived, Randalyn thought those two might be bold enough to open their windows and fire upon any Minith that approached.  After all, it was what she planned to do. 

The soldiers stationed outside, as well as those inside and on top of the building, had orders to protect the Council, and she had no doubt they would do their jobs well.  But, at the same time, she had never been one to sit back and let others do her work for her.  The mass of weapons and fighters surrounding them offered a serious deterrent, but when the fight began, her gun would not sit idle.

*     *     *

Master Shan and his motherships landed among the human armed forces just as they had been ordered. 

Like General Soo, he and his fighters felt the thrill as the heat of their engines cooked the flesh and twisted the metal of the humans who had gathered to fight them.  Although he could not smell the death and destruction the two giant ships caused, he greedily filled in the olfactory gaps with his overly vivid imagination. 

It was a good way to return to Earth.

"Are all forces ready?" 

"Yes, Master Shan.  Wave one is ready and awaiting engine shutdown."

Shan knew his transports were ready.  He had already asked the question twice.  But he found it difficult to resist the pull of the fight in which his warriors would soon be engaged.  He wished he was going with them instead of remaining in the command center.  He briefly considered abandoning his post and joining the first wave, but discarded the thought at once.  He, more than any other on the ship, understood how weak-willed the forces arranged against them were.  His previous posting to the planet had been long and boring—during his year on Earth, he had felt more like an inmate than a warrior of a conquering force.  Fighting these humans would be a satisfying, but short-lived, event. 

He would not cede his hard-earned command position for such a small, temporary reward—regardless of how tasty it might be. 

The ship settled upon its bed of burnt wreckage and the engines ceased their deadly cacophony of rumbling flame.  Within moments, the bays doors of the twin ships began to open.  Sixty seconds later, the first wave of transports was out the door.  They hugged the ground and moved in a pre-calculated dive-and-weave pattern specifically designed to foil the enemy fighters that would be on them soon.

Unlike the first wave of transporters on N'merca, Shan's vehicles ignored the scattered military forces surrounding the motherships.  They had no intention of engaging these human soldiers—at least, not yet.  Instead, they turned and headed directly for the building that hosted Earth's human leadership council.

*     *     *

"General Mouse, the Minith seem to be offloading all their fighters right in the middle of our forces."

"Roger that, Alpha One.  I see them.  They appear to be establishing dual skirmish lines, would you concur?"