Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (136 page)

“No, he's just rubbing it in. Not that it was our fault Wanda Lu missed,” the Relgarth said, eying the captain with a bit of disgust in her tone.

The captain snorted. “Excuses excuses,” he teased. Some of his good humor had been restored by the byplay.

“Sir, a general Ruffus Drier is on the line. Audio only.”

“General Drier, this is Captain Boo of the Federation starship Mikhail Kutuzov.”

“Boo who?” the General demanded.

“Very funny,” the cat replied, flicking his ears. “Please tell me you didn't strain a neuron with that ancient retort,” he said. “It's not like you have many to spare,” he growled.

“What do you want?”

“A fresh tuna fish and bacon sandwich spiced with catnip would be nice. Baring that, your head on a platter. Or more importantly, your surrender. I'm following protocol to give you this one chance to spare the lives of your people General. Please consider it carefully. I won't give you a second opportunity.”

“Fuck you and fuck off,” the general snarled. “We'll never surrender to the likes of you!” there was a loud click.

“He's disconnected the circuit sir,” the Comm rating said.

“Well, that's protocol followed I suppose. You can't say we didn't try,” the captain said mildly. The XO nodded. “Fuck off,” he murmured. “How... quaint I suppose. Rude though to not invite a guest to dinner.”

“If it's just the same skipper, I'd rather stay up here where they can't hit back,” Chubs said dryly.

The captain eyed him in sardonic humor. “Not very sporting, but I suppose you are right. It is nice to be on the dishing out side instead of the receiving I suppose. Zeus program loaded?” he asked. The ATO nodded, as did the TACO. “Then initiate Guns and send them our answer,” the captain said, settling himself.

“Our turn now you bastards,” the TACO said as she keyed the firing sequence.

The two ships puffed rounds out in rapid succession. Those rounds were unguided but moving at incredible speed for their small size. Their carbon carbon tungsten bodies seemed to shed the plasma from reentry with ease as they hammered through the atmosphere with grim purpose.

Straight line bright thunderbolts racked the heavens to slam into the ground in the exact center of each Horathian military facility. The rounds carried the equivalent of a 1 megaton bomb. Their impact energy tore everything apart for kilometers around.

The tactical departments had targeted facilities far from the population centers or concentration camps. Vehicle parks, bases, training and recruiting stations, spaceports were all obliterated in a wave of destruction that crisscrossed around the planet until the ships ran out of ammunition or targets.

Hit and hype.
Chester Puller's
team couldn't come fast enough, the captain thought darkly as the division broke orbit at last. There was nothing left in orbit, and craters on the ground where the main concentrations of Horathians had once been. It would help, but also hinder the Marines once they got there. After all, the enemy now knew they were there.

“We'll be back you bastards,” the captain murmured, eyes slits as they watched the ball recede. “And we'll be bringing
friends
. Marines to dig you out, you just wait and see,” he said ever so softly. “Justice
will
be served.”

---<>))))