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The Spartan Chronicles - Volume 3
Laborer's Throng
"Well gents," Mel stated, "the gloves are off again. I just got a green light to get on with Yang's spanking."
The officers around the improvised tacs room in Laborer's Throng chuckled. Yes, indeed, Yang had been 'spanked' recently, and quite soundly. His sprawling empire of oppression and terror was down to almost third of what it had been at the beginning of the year 2225. It had been a good year for the Spartans, and a very bad one for Yang. He went from the largest faction with an awesome industrial infrastructure to a rabbit in a hole, cowering in his warrens against the light of day. Between subversion by Morgan, the huddled masses of the Hive rising and opting for a better life under Forman Domai, or brute force liberation by the Spartans, a total of 13 of his 21 cities had fallen. With the fall of his cities his ability extend his power had also collapsed, as had his ability to cause harm - and his ability to resist. Yang had nuked two of Sparta's best and most valuable cities, but by late 2225 it looked like nasty old Yang was finished. His destruction of Ironhome and Parade Grounds appeared to be his spiteful, pointless, and final act of defiance.
That is, until the aliens showed up.
"We're to resume the assault on the Hive immediately, as scheduled by Coronal Santiago herself. The tactics will be the same: General Korn's Chop and Drop. We will use nerve gas shard pens to eliminate defenders, then airdrop infantry and rovers in the undefended cities. Our objectives are here and here," Mel continued, pointing at the horizontal table holo Yang's continent. Most of the territory was a pleasing Spartan gray, with Gaian green at the eastern end for the restored Gaia's Landing and Nessus Shining. Two separated cities in the deep red of Forman Domai were at the western coast and in the center eastern section of the continent. Huddled in the southwestern portion of the Yang's continent were the remaining Hive bases, two of which were sea bases. Mel pointed to Social Engineering Den and Seat of Proper Thought. Social Engineering Den was the next Hive city in line in the Spartan's drive west from Unity Lair, and Seat of Proper Thought was south of the Spartan occupied Fecundity Tower.
"But, there is a new development. You've all seen and holo of the Argonauts." Mel paused, and all her officers nodded somberly. The fact that one alien interceptor had destroyed the newly created Argonauts interceptor squadron came as a very rude shock to the Spartans. Although they had taken some losses, the Spartan attack on Hive holdings had been fairly bloodless - for the Spartans, that is, not the Hive. In the beginning of the Hive-Spartan war the Spartan had had an over 2:1 advantage due to technology. The aliens illuminated the stark technological deficiency that the Spartans, and the rest of humanity, were up against. The aliens had turned the tables, ironically and painfully, on the Spartans.
"The aliens, these Progenitor, have weaponry that is almost 50% more powerful than ours, and it is powered by controlled singularity reactors that are twice as good as our fusion reactors. You do the math to see where that puts us. We also have reports that their armor is over twice as good as anything that we have. Put the armor and reactor together and the alien's defense is even with our offense, even with nerve gas. Luckily the alien ground defenders do not have anti aircraft ability. Also, none of Yang's remaining cities has aerospace centers to mount an effective defense except their former capitol The Hive. With the aerospace center at The Hive we'll have to take that the old fashioned way - brute force. But, for the moment we are to isolate The Hive and take out easier targets."
Mel paused again to make sure her statement had sunk in. A few made soft comments to themselves or a neighbor, but her Aardvark pilots were silent. Up until now their job had been fairly easy, and they knew it. Shard nerve gas weaponry was more than a match for plasma fusion defenders, even if they had anti aircraft ability. Now they knew there would be casualties, which means death, particularly for pilots. Still, they had a better chance than the ground pounders who had to fight their way through Yang's perimeter defenses and singularity neutronium defenders. That would be a dirty, nasty job.
"Our primary objective is Social Engineering Den. Intelligence tells me that each of Yang's cities each have one of those alien defenders, who have what has been dubbed 'neutronium singularity armor.' At our target cities they also have one plasma fusion anti aircraft defenders. All the rest were destroyed when they were worm raped during the fungal bloom from three weeks ago. In fact, there isn't a whole lot left of Den now, although the worms are well fed."
Mel's attempt at humor fell flat this time. Joking about a massive mindworm attack, like the one that had happened to the three Hive cities after the Hive double planetbuster strike, was generally considered to be in bad taste, even when the calamity affected an enemy. Mel looked up. The holo glow of the tactical table highlighted her face and made the rest of her body, in its gray on gray Spartan uniform, appear to be almost ghostly. She looked intently at her commanders of her airdrop infantry and rover squads, her Aardvark squadron leader Lt. Nans Andersson, and the two interceptor pilots on loan from the 4th Wing. She detected no trace of hesitation in their faces, only steely determination. Inwardly Mel was satisfied. She had expected no less, but it was always a good idea to check the pulse of her subordinates.
Now morale is strong, but what will happen when the aliens attack in force? Mel asked herself. She didn't know the answer to that question, but she knew that she would lose friends and colleagues. Such were the fortunes of war.
Mel dismissed her doubt. It is the duty of a soldier to die for their faction, she reflected, and take as many of the enemy as possible with you.
She broke the lengthening silence. "The attack on Social Engineering Den begins at 0600 tomorrow. Aardvarks 2 and 6 will lead, and 1, 3 and 4 will remain here as backup. Then the 469th will airdrop. If all goes well then remaining Aardvarks will take out Seat of Proper Thought, with 3 rover brigades from Lightning Strike to airdrop. The attack on Thought will take place only at my order."
Still looking at her cadre of officers she finished, "Any questions?" No one spoke up.
"Dismissed."
++++++++++++++++
"Channel secure Aardvark 2. I'm getting an unusual ping. Releasing a fly eye to investigate. Remaining on target to Den. ETA 16 minutes. Aardvark 6 out," Flight Leader Lieutenant Nans Andersson stated. As always, there was no unnecessary chatter, and comm silence was broken only when need required. Considering what had happened to the Argonauts, any 'ping' had to be investigated immediately. The penalty for not following up on ghosts had just gotten severe.
A moment later the hypersonic fly eye was bouncing back data and images. It showed the enormous new fungal tower that had grown in between the Hive cities of Seat of Proper Thought, Social Engineering Den and Fellowship City, and the vast bulk of the tower dwarfed the largely subterranean Hive cities. Undoubtedly, the cities could see it much more clearly than they would like. It was vast trunk that sat in the middle of a new fungus field, which was at the center of a new 'fungal highway' that now crisscrossed this section of Hive territory. Its sinuous ropy arms waved against the wind and, at the base of the prestigious bulk of the fungal tower, movement could be seen in the land and air - which were mindworm vectors. As the spy eye got closer more mindworm 'individuals' could be parsed out from the noise, and they seemed to be moving in and out of the tower.
The view of the spy eye changed abruptly, and it focused in on a translucent pinkish-gray blot that rose from the tower. It blot pulsed in and out, seeming to change volume at it ascended, and the Locusts of Chiron that formed the blot angled toward the spy eye. The view changed again as the spy eye took evasive action as it performed a high-energy turn and retreated the way it came. Within moments the image the spy eye was transmitting became indistinct and data transmission erratic. Seconds later the view went black.
"Aardvark 6 to Laborer's Throng," Nans stated, activating his comm channel.
"Throng, copy."
"Fly eye lost and apparently destroyed by locusts from the fungal tower west of Den. Did you receive its transmission?"
"Affirmative. Data relayed to Captain Cassaroni. I'm sure Mel will be very interested in it. Stay out of that thing's airspace and proceed to target Den."
"Roger. Out."
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Margie stood, arched her back, and stretched, and was satisfied to feel her vertebrae crackle as her abused muscles and bones returned to a more normal position. Stooping all day tending errant agro bots was tiresome, and very hard on one's posture. While she was at it she adjusted her microbreather. As always, she had gotten one out of the bin as she left on her work detail for Social Engineering Den's Agricultural Cooperative Number 3, and it never quite fit. It was utilitarian and efficient, but not comfortable, since comfort beyond function was a waste of resources. Still, Margie wished it fit better. She knew she would know it had slipped when she started to feel a little giddy from the narcosis. Right now she didn't feel giddy, but a little adjustment wouldn't hurt.
Standing above the waist-high Chironcorn she paused to look around. The corn was a deep, emerald green and seemed to undulate in the soft wind that seemed to caress her face. Just seeing the corn and its movement brought a mote of joy to her heart. Since she was a little girl Margie had loved things that grew, regardless of whether they were weeds or flowers. As she got older her love for growing things became more practical, and in that way she served her people. She knew that such love was irrational and a waste of energy, but she couldn't help it. In fact, just standing and watching and not working were punishable offenses in the Human Hive. In her mind she mentally composed an excuse in case a hostile overseer challenged her for malingering: she was scanning the skies for the Spartan Oppressors of the People. The Hive did not tolerate malingerers, and they were appropriately punished - unless they had a valid excuse. And the fact that the Spartans had subjugated the loyal workers of the Hive in nearby Unity Lair was certainly a good reason.
Overall it was a beautiful day, and it was the height of summer in the southern hemisphere of Planet. It was never all that cold anywhere on Planet, but Social Engineering Den was half way in between the equator and the south pole and, therefore, there were seasons, even if they were muted. Some of the other ag technicians complained about the heat, the voracious Earth insects and the native insect equivalents, and about how hard they toiled in the fields with no recognition or reward. Margie privately thought that those who complained the most were generally the worst workers, and that they put their petty self-interests above the goals of the group. Covertly she thought they were, in a small way, traitors to the Hive Utopia, which would surely come when the corruption of the other misguided factions was expunged and purity of thought and deed was achieved.
Margie took a deep breath, and even through the filters she could smell the goodness of growing things. She could feel the heat of the late morning and how it formed shimmering waves that distorted vision. More than once Margie had seen what looked like floating islands, or silvery points of light on the horizon. But these, she knew, were simply optical illusions formed by the rising heat. In fact, it was already hot enough for heat waves to rise from the good, red earth. In the distance the heat shimmered with refracted silvery light.
Suddenly Margie, all alone in the field, had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The silvery point of light was betting bigger and had lost the etherealness so characteristic of heat mirages. It now resolved itself as two silvery points that were heading toward her from the northeast.
Northeast was where the Spartan-occupied command center in occupied Laborer's Throng lay.
In moments Margie's worst fears were realized. Streaking in a hundred meters above the tree line were two aircraft. She didn't know for sure that they were Spartan, but still she somehow knew. Margie didn't try to hide, and didn't cry out. With growing dread she watched the two military planes pass almost directly overhead. As the sonic boom hit her she saw on each plane the Spartan icon: an arrow inside a hexagon. Margie turned to watch the two instruments of death fly toward her home. A myriad of images passed through Margie's mind: her 5th birthday with her crèche mates after she had been removed from her parents' home - she had been sad until the cake arrived, and all her crèche mates sang to her the Song of Welcome; graduating from the Social Engineering Den's Agricultural Academy, and meeting her proud parents for the first time since she had entered the crèche; and her first lover, Myong, whose gentle hands and soft touch had shown her the meaning of love and belonging.
In seconds Margie knew that would all pass away. The Spartans used nerve gas to kill tens of thousands, and then slaughtered thousands as they took the city from its rightful owners. Tens of thousands, her friends, family, and fellow workers, would die. She had seen the holos smuggled out of Unity Lair after the Spartan nerve gas attack. There were hallways choked with dead bodies that were all trying to claw at a door that wouldn't open. She remembered the nutrient center where the loyal workers had set up makeshift barricades against the Spartan invaders, only to be cut down by the very air they had to breathe. A holo camera had focused on a small, beautiful boy who lay as if asleep, but Margie knew he would never wake again, never laugh, never cry, never anything. The gas was cruel, and it cut down the innocent. Margie felt tears well in her eyes but refused to let them fall. She looked resolutely toward her home. Steeling her courage, she vowed she would watch the evil Spartans kill the ones she loved. In that way she would honor their memory.
Lights flared over Social Engineering Den and Margie involuntarily gasped, and her throat tightened.
Margie watched the end of all that she knew in a silence, which was interrupted only by the rustle of the corn. Unannounced, a traitorous tear rolled down her cheek. Margie quickly wiped it away.
++++++++++++
Nans was almost frantic.
"Pull up! Pull up! Katie!"
Katie had taken the first attack run at the city, and it had been perfect. She had timed to the nanosecond when to fire her shard emitter and the ultra dense packets of matter had been violently ejected from her aircraft and guided to its target on a cone of energy. The shard did not have a parabolic course like normal ordinance. It sped toward the city of Social Engineering Den in a straight line, guided by a coherent electromagnetic field not dissimilar to that of a supercollider, except that this energy field carried much more matter, and there was no supercollider.
All was well until the shards homed in on the aliens guarding the hapless city. When the shards were mere meters from impact the ground surface seemed to shimmer. The shimmering rapidly intensified so that the few structures above ground of the Hive city grew dark and indistinct. The shards themselves seemed to slow as they entered the field emanating from the aliens, and the bright white energy cone that guided them to the surface seemed to dim. Behind the shadowy field there were a few brief bursts of light. As the shards hit their target the shards were transformed partially into energy, which would then follow the remaining super-dense mass deep into Den's rocky defenses. In response to the energy release vast chunks of rock and soil would be thrown outward.
This time it was different. There was much less light and almost no mass ejected into the air, as was so typical of the fireworks display that shard impacts generated. Instead the energy just seemed to…dissipate. To Nans' eyes it seemed like the singularity energy field simply absorbed it. As the singularity field absorbed the energy the field grew stronger, and it pulsed outward toward the source of the energy - Katie's needlejet. The distortion field puckered and seemed to strain toward Katie. At the last moment Katie saw this and cut off her attack, and pulled off in haste. Like smoke following a vacuum, the energy field followed her and was gaining on her, even though she was going mach 4.
"Comon' Katie!" Nans whispered, mentally giving her extra speed and agility. But the distortion field gained, and then overtook and enveloped Katie's Aardvark.
The needlejet formed a shadow within the field. Then there was a brief flash of light and the energy field broadened, and then fell apart. As it dissipated pieces of the needlejet emerged and arced to the ground.
Nans checked to see if Katie had ejected, but couldn't read anything through the distortion field. Worse, he knew he had a mission to complete.
"Throng, this is Aardvark 6. Katie is down. Proceeding with attack," he stated simply. With an economical motion he activated his nerve gas pods, which would follow the shard as it lanced into the ground.
Nans went into an attack run.
++++++++++++++++
Margie watched the first attacker strike. Blinding white light formed an unnatural straight line toward her city. She held her breath. Then a strange grayness formed over Social Engineering Den, and it seemed that the white energy died. There were no explosions like Margie expected. The craft, which was small at this range, pulled up and the strange grayness seemed to follow it. Arcing upward, the plane raced back toward Margie. But the grayness followed and, over Margie's fields, caught it. Margie looked up and could barely see the plane, but could see that moments after the gray caught it that it just came apart. The gray evaporated, and pieces of the plane came down. All of them were headed for Margie.
Margie eyes widened, but she was too stunned to even move. The bright, flaming chunks of metal and ceramic hurled toward her and exploded all around, forming craters and throwing up great arcs of ruptured earth and plants. The sky seemed to darken as rich, red earth was thrown into the sky in overlapping plumes, and the smoke from the plane filled the air. Margie watched as a large piece came hurtling toward the very spot where she stood. Margie had time to throw up her arms.
Then blackness.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Heavy. It 's hard to breath, Margie thought. Cautiously Margie opened her eyes, and saw red, raw earth. She tried to take a deep breath but couldn't. She looked down and saw that she was buried up to her waist in the deep rich soil of Social Engineering Den. Following an instinctive first aid procedure drilled into all Hive citizens she performed a quick self-examination by using the A-B-Cs; airway, bleeding, circulation. First the airway - she could breathe, even if she couldn't breathe deeply. Second bleeding. She found she wasn't bleeding too badly - just a few scrapes, and that her arms worked. Lastly circulation. She could feel her legs, even if they were buried under hundreds of kilos of dirt. Margie tried to turn to look up, but a sharp pain told her that her midsection was not happy about that decision. She decided to take it slowly and felt around with her hands.
The soil around her was loose, with some harder clods. Determined, she started to dig her way out. Cautiously, she slowly bent around so her arms could scoop away the soil. Her midsection said 'pain' - she obviously had at least one broken rib. Considering she expected to be dead, that was a good bargain. Steadily the soil was raked away.
Twenty minutes later Margie was free. After a quick examination she knew that everything worked. Sadly she looked across her field. It looked like it had been bombed, and, indeed, it actually had been. There were great rents and scrapes where larger chunks of the Spartan aircraft had gone down, and smaller areas where the Chironcorn was simply torn away and burned.
Margie caught her breath. The Spartan attack! She turned and looked toward her home, Social Engineering Den. Four fingers of black smoke poured from the area, and there were fires in four places around the surface by the smoke. Two of the plumes of smoke came from the city, but the two others were from the outskirts - obviously other airplane crash sites. In the far distance she could see an aircraft, high in the sky, dropping large objects that turned on jets and slowly floated to the ground. As they descended she could see that they were men and rovers. Military men and rovers. Spartan military men and rovers.
Margie sobbed. She sat in the moist earth, the life giving soil that nurtured her plants. Now even that was destroyed. The destroyers had come. The Spartans were airdropping into her city.
Now, what to I do? she asked herself. I can't go back. Where will I go? Margie's slight body trembled slightly.
Without meaning to, Margie got up and started walking in what was left of her corn. The fires were mostly out now. She reached out her fingers to let the green leaves touch her fingertips as she passed. As always she was careful not to disturb the roots, damage the stalks, or bruise the leaves. Almost mechanically Margie walked away from Social Engineering Den. Thinking about it, Margie squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the death. Imagining the destruction.
Margie neared one of the larger craters. Her cornrows lead straight for it and she didn't move to avoid it. A rampart of earth formed the edge of the crater, and it buried all the corn near it. Margie walked to the top of the crater, her feet sinking a little into the blasted and moist earth. At the base of the crater was a large chunk of metal. Without thinking Margie walked toward it, unconsciously knowing it was the central piece of the Spartan aircraft.
Then Margie heard a faint moan, which came from the forward section.
Margie stopped, and the glazed expression left her face. She paused to listen for the sound again and was rewarded with another groan. Margie took a deep breath, even though the air stank. Getting closer she recognized what had to be a cockpit. Bracing herself, she clambered up the dirt plowed in front and looked. A figure was slumped inside, surrounded by retraining harnesses. Dirt spilled in through the left side where the glasssteel of the canopy had been sheered away by some nameless force.
Margie looked at the pilot and noticed a scrap of hair, which was long and auburn in color. Mentally she decided what to do. She leaned forward through the rent and crawled partially inside. She reached out and brushed the hair away from the head of the pilot. This showed a thin face, long hair, no Adam's apple: a woman. She was obviously alive but was hurt.
Carefully Margie felt round the neck for a damaged spinal column. Finding nothing obvious she gently placed her hand on the woman's forehead and pushed her head back, showing her face. The pilot's face was covered with blood, which leaked from around her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Some blood even was trickling out of ruptured pores in her dusty-colored skin. At Margie's touch the woman's eyes fluttered a few times, then opened. They focused indistinctly on Margie.
"Hurt," she whispered. "Call for…help."
Even this effort seemed to exhaust the pilot.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of you," Margie replied.
Margie looked at the woman, who was helpless and hurt.
"I'll take care of you," she repeated.
Margie withdrew her hand from the pilot's forehead, which bobbed down. She reached down and placed both thumbs on her windpipe and pressed as hard as she could. Margie's face was transformed from one of dumbstruck grief to rage. She leaned forward, pressing all her weight into her work. The pilot struggled feebly, twitching, her head moving weakly as she tried to breathe.
After a few minutes the feeble thrashing stopped. Margie's jaw was locked into a hard grimace, her jaw muscles throbbing as her teeth ground together. She looked down, and her hands were covered with blood, as were the lower parts of her arms. She no longer felt the pain from her ribs. She felt nothing, except a blind and generalized rage.
Stooping, she backed out of the cockpit. As she retreated her right hand reflexively grabbed a handful of soil. Standing up, her face spasmed again, flexing between rage and inconsolable grief. She took a few ragged breaths, and she then walked to the top of the crater.
There were figures coming toward her from her dead city. Soldiers. Margie walked toward them, ignoring her cherished corn. Her feet ripped through its delicate stalks, and the leaves were torn as she passed.
"MURDERERS!" she screamed. Her bloody and empty left fist clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and her closed right fist clutched tightly to the earth it held.
"Halt! On the ground, face down, hands in front! NOW!" the nearest soldier yelled, his chaos rifle aimed directly at Margie's midsection.
Margie ignored his orders. "MURDERERS!" She raised her bloody arms and ran toward him.
Waiting only a fraction of second, the Spartan soldier fired. The chaos ripped through Margie. The energy of the blast twirled Margie around and she was dead before she hit ground.
The soldier advanced with his chaos rifle pointed at the threat. Margie's body lay on a crushed row of corn and her sightless eyes stared at the clear, blue sky. As her last breath escaped her body shifted and her lifeless and bloody right hand slowly unclenched. Released from its bondage, the rich, blood-soaked soil fell back to the earth from whence it came.
[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited June 28, 2000).]
"Well gents," Mel stated, "the gloves are off again. I just got a green light to get on with Yang's spanking."
The officers around the improvised tacs room in Laborer's Throng chuckled. Yes, indeed, Yang had been 'spanked' recently, and quite soundly. His sprawling empire of oppression and terror was down to almost third of what it had been at the beginning of the year 2225. It had been a good year for the Spartans, and a very bad one for Yang. He went from the largest faction with an awesome industrial infrastructure to a rabbit in a hole, cowering in his warrens against the light of day. Between subversion by Morgan, the huddled masses of the Hive rising and opting for a better life under Forman Domai, or brute force liberation by the Spartans, a total of 13 of his 21 cities had fallen. With the fall of his cities his ability extend his power had also collapsed, as had his ability to cause harm - and his ability to resist. Yang had nuked two of Sparta's best and most valuable cities, but by late 2225 it looked like nasty old Yang was finished. His destruction of Ironhome and Parade Grounds appeared to be his spiteful, pointless, and final act of defiance.
That is, until the aliens showed up.
"We're to resume the assault on the Hive immediately, as scheduled by Coronal Santiago herself. The tactics will be the same: General Korn's Chop and Drop. We will use nerve gas shard pens to eliminate defenders, then airdrop infantry and rovers in the undefended cities. Our objectives are here and here," Mel continued, pointing at the horizontal table holo Yang's continent. Most of the territory was a pleasing Spartan gray, with Gaian green at the eastern end for the restored Gaia's Landing and Nessus Shining. Two separated cities in the deep red of Forman Domai were at the western coast and in the center eastern section of the continent. Huddled in the southwestern portion of the Yang's continent were the remaining Hive bases, two of which were sea bases. Mel pointed to Social Engineering Den and Seat of Proper Thought. Social Engineering Den was the next Hive city in line in the Spartan's drive west from Unity Lair, and Seat of Proper Thought was south of the Spartan occupied Fecundity Tower.
"But, there is a new development. You've all seen and holo of the Argonauts." Mel paused, and all her officers nodded somberly. The fact that one alien interceptor had destroyed the newly created Argonauts interceptor squadron came as a very rude shock to the Spartans. Although they had taken some losses, the Spartan attack on Hive holdings had been fairly bloodless - for the Spartans, that is, not the Hive. In the beginning of the Hive-Spartan war the Spartan had had an over 2:1 advantage due to technology. The aliens illuminated the stark technological deficiency that the Spartans, and the rest of humanity, were up against. The aliens had turned the tables, ironically and painfully, on the Spartans.
"The aliens, these Progenitor, have weaponry that is almost 50% more powerful than ours, and it is powered by controlled singularity reactors that are twice as good as our fusion reactors. You do the math to see where that puts us. We also have reports that their armor is over twice as good as anything that we have. Put the armor and reactor together and the alien's defense is even with our offense, even with nerve gas. Luckily the alien ground defenders do not have anti aircraft ability. Also, none of Yang's remaining cities has aerospace centers to mount an effective defense except their former capitol The Hive. With the aerospace center at The Hive we'll have to take that the old fashioned way - brute force. But, for the moment we are to isolate The Hive and take out easier targets."
Mel paused again to make sure her statement had sunk in. A few made soft comments to themselves or a neighbor, but her Aardvark pilots were silent. Up until now their job had been fairly easy, and they knew it. Shard nerve gas weaponry was more than a match for plasma fusion defenders, even if they had anti aircraft ability. Now they knew there would be casualties, which means death, particularly for pilots. Still, they had a better chance than the ground pounders who had to fight their way through Yang's perimeter defenses and singularity neutronium defenders. That would be a dirty, nasty job.
"Our primary objective is Social Engineering Den. Intelligence tells me that each of Yang's cities each have one of those alien defenders, who have what has been dubbed 'neutronium singularity armor.' At our target cities they also have one plasma fusion anti aircraft defenders. All the rest were destroyed when they were worm raped during the fungal bloom from three weeks ago. In fact, there isn't a whole lot left of Den now, although the worms are well fed."
Mel's attempt at humor fell flat this time. Joking about a massive mindworm attack, like the one that had happened to the three Hive cities after the Hive double planetbuster strike, was generally considered to be in bad taste, even when the calamity affected an enemy. Mel looked up. The holo glow of the tactical table highlighted her face and made the rest of her body, in its gray on gray Spartan uniform, appear to be almost ghostly. She looked intently at her commanders of her airdrop infantry and rover squads, her Aardvark squadron leader Lt. Nans Andersson, and the two interceptor pilots on loan from the 4th Wing. She detected no trace of hesitation in their faces, only steely determination. Inwardly Mel was satisfied. She had expected no less, but it was always a good idea to check the pulse of her subordinates.
Now morale is strong, but what will happen when the aliens attack in force? Mel asked herself. She didn't know the answer to that question, but she knew that she would lose friends and colleagues. Such were the fortunes of war.
Mel dismissed her doubt. It is the duty of a soldier to die for their faction, she reflected, and take as many of the enemy as possible with you.
She broke the lengthening silence. "The attack on Social Engineering Den begins at 0600 tomorrow. Aardvarks 2 and 6 will lead, and 1, 3 and 4 will remain here as backup. Then the 469th will airdrop. If all goes well then remaining Aardvarks will take out Seat of Proper Thought, with 3 rover brigades from Lightning Strike to airdrop. The attack on Thought will take place only at my order."
Still looking at her cadre of officers she finished, "Any questions?" No one spoke up.
"Dismissed."
++++++++++++++++
"Channel secure Aardvark 2. I'm getting an unusual ping. Releasing a fly eye to investigate. Remaining on target to Den. ETA 16 minutes. Aardvark 6 out," Flight Leader Lieutenant Nans Andersson stated. As always, there was no unnecessary chatter, and comm silence was broken only when need required. Considering what had happened to the Argonauts, any 'ping' had to be investigated immediately. The penalty for not following up on ghosts had just gotten severe.
A moment later the hypersonic fly eye was bouncing back data and images. It showed the enormous new fungal tower that had grown in between the Hive cities of Seat of Proper Thought, Social Engineering Den and Fellowship City, and the vast bulk of the tower dwarfed the largely subterranean Hive cities. Undoubtedly, the cities could see it much more clearly than they would like. It was vast trunk that sat in the middle of a new fungus field, which was at the center of a new 'fungal highway' that now crisscrossed this section of Hive territory. Its sinuous ropy arms waved against the wind and, at the base of the prestigious bulk of the fungal tower, movement could be seen in the land and air - which were mindworm vectors. As the spy eye got closer more mindworm 'individuals' could be parsed out from the noise, and they seemed to be moving in and out of the tower.
The view of the spy eye changed abruptly, and it focused in on a translucent pinkish-gray blot that rose from the tower. It blot pulsed in and out, seeming to change volume at it ascended, and the Locusts of Chiron that formed the blot angled toward the spy eye. The view changed again as the spy eye took evasive action as it performed a high-energy turn and retreated the way it came. Within moments the image the spy eye was transmitting became indistinct and data transmission erratic. Seconds later the view went black.
"Aardvark 6 to Laborer's Throng," Nans stated, activating his comm channel.
"Throng, copy."
"Fly eye lost and apparently destroyed by locusts from the fungal tower west of Den. Did you receive its transmission?"
"Affirmative. Data relayed to Captain Cassaroni. I'm sure Mel will be very interested in it. Stay out of that thing's airspace and proceed to target Den."
"Roger. Out."
+++++++++++++++++++
Margie stood, arched her back, and stretched, and was satisfied to feel her vertebrae crackle as her abused muscles and bones returned to a more normal position. Stooping all day tending errant agro bots was tiresome, and very hard on one's posture. While she was at it she adjusted her microbreather. As always, she had gotten one out of the bin as she left on her work detail for Social Engineering Den's Agricultural Cooperative Number 3, and it never quite fit. It was utilitarian and efficient, but not comfortable, since comfort beyond function was a waste of resources. Still, Margie wished it fit better. She knew she would know it had slipped when she started to feel a little giddy from the narcosis. Right now she didn't feel giddy, but a little adjustment wouldn't hurt.
Standing above the waist-high Chironcorn she paused to look around. The corn was a deep, emerald green and seemed to undulate in the soft wind that seemed to caress her face. Just seeing the corn and its movement brought a mote of joy to her heart. Since she was a little girl Margie had loved things that grew, regardless of whether they were weeds or flowers. As she got older her love for growing things became more practical, and in that way she served her people. She knew that such love was irrational and a waste of energy, but she couldn't help it. In fact, just standing and watching and not working were punishable offenses in the Human Hive. In her mind she mentally composed an excuse in case a hostile overseer challenged her for malingering: she was scanning the skies for the Spartan Oppressors of the People. The Hive did not tolerate malingerers, and they were appropriately punished - unless they had a valid excuse. And the fact that the Spartans had subjugated the loyal workers of the Hive in nearby Unity Lair was certainly a good reason.
Overall it was a beautiful day, and it was the height of summer in the southern hemisphere of Planet. It was never all that cold anywhere on Planet, but Social Engineering Den was half way in between the equator and the south pole and, therefore, there were seasons, even if they were muted. Some of the other ag technicians complained about the heat, the voracious Earth insects and the native insect equivalents, and about how hard they toiled in the fields with no recognition or reward. Margie privately thought that those who complained the most were generally the worst workers, and that they put their petty self-interests above the goals of the group. Covertly she thought they were, in a small way, traitors to the Hive Utopia, which would surely come when the corruption of the other misguided factions was expunged and purity of thought and deed was achieved.
Margie took a deep breath, and even through the filters she could smell the goodness of growing things. She could feel the heat of the late morning and how it formed shimmering waves that distorted vision. More than once Margie had seen what looked like floating islands, or silvery points of light on the horizon. But these, she knew, were simply optical illusions formed by the rising heat. In fact, it was already hot enough for heat waves to rise from the good, red earth. In the distance the heat shimmered with refracted silvery light.
Suddenly Margie, all alone in the field, had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The silvery point of light was betting bigger and had lost the etherealness so characteristic of heat mirages. It now resolved itself as two silvery points that were heading toward her from the northeast.
Northeast was where the Spartan-occupied command center in occupied Laborer's Throng lay.
In moments Margie's worst fears were realized. Streaking in a hundred meters above the tree line were two aircraft. She didn't know for sure that they were Spartan, but still she somehow knew. Margie didn't try to hide, and didn't cry out. With growing dread she watched the two military planes pass almost directly overhead. As the sonic boom hit her she saw on each plane the Spartan icon: an arrow inside a hexagon. Margie turned to watch the two instruments of death fly toward her home. A myriad of images passed through Margie's mind: her 5th birthday with her crèche mates after she had been removed from her parents' home - she had been sad until the cake arrived, and all her crèche mates sang to her the Song of Welcome; graduating from the Social Engineering Den's Agricultural Academy, and meeting her proud parents for the first time since she had entered the crèche; and her first lover, Myong, whose gentle hands and soft touch had shown her the meaning of love and belonging.
In seconds Margie knew that would all pass away. The Spartans used nerve gas to kill tens of thousands, and then slaughtered thousands as they took the city from its rightful owners. Tens of thousands, her friends, family, and fellow workers, would die. She had seen the holos smuggled out of Unity Lair after the Spartan nerve gas attack. There were hallways choked with dead bodies that were all trying to claw at a door that wouldn't open. She remembered the nutrient center where the loyal workers had set up makeshift barricades against the Spartan invaders, only to be cut down by the very air they had to breathe. A holo camera had focused on a small, beautiful boy who lay as if asleep, but Margie knew he would never wake again, never laugh, never cry, never anything. The gas was cruel, and it cut down the innocent. Margie felt tears well in her eyes but refused to let them fall. She looked resolutely toward her home. Steeling her courage, she vowed she would watch the evil Spartans kill the ones she loved. In that way she would honor their memory.
Lights flared over Social Engineering Den and Margie involuntarily gasped, and her throat tightened.
Margie watched the end of all that she knew in a silence, which was interrupted only by the rustle of the corn. Unannounced, a traitorous tear rolled down her cheek. Margie quickly wiped it away.
++++++++++++
Nans was almost frantic.
"Pull up! Pull up! Katie!"
Katie had taken the first attack run at the city, and it had been perfect. She had timed to the nanosecond when to fire her shard emitter and the ultra dense packets of matter had been violently ejected from her aircraft and guided to its target on a cone of energy. The shard did not have a parabolic course like normal ordinance. It sped toward the city of Social Engineering Den in a straight line, guided by a coherent electromagnetic field not dissimilar to that of a supercollider, except that this energy field carried much more matter, and there was no supercollider.
All was well until the shards homed in on the aliens guarding the hapless city. When the shards were mere meters from impact the ground surface seemed to shimmer. The shimmering rapidly intensified so that the few structures above ground of the Hive city grew dark and indistinct. The shards themselves seemed to slow as they entered the field emanating from the aliens, and the bright white energy cone that guided them to the surface seemed to dim. Behind the shadowy field there were a few brief bursts of light. As the shards hit their target the shards were transformed partially into energy, which would then follow the remaining super-dense mass deep into Den's rocky defenses. In response to the energy release vast chunks of rock and soil would be thrown outward.
This time it was different. There was much less light and almost no mass ejected into the air, as was so typical of the fireworks display that shard impacts generated. Instead the energy just seemed to…dissipate. To Nans' eyes it seemed like the singularity energy field simply absorbed it. As the singularity field absorbed the energy the field grew stronger, and it pulsed outward toward the source of the energy - Katie's needlejet. The distortion field puckered and seemed to strain toward Katie. At the last moment Katie saw this and cut off her attack, and pulled off in haste. Like smoke following a vacuum, the energy field followed her and was gaining on her, even though she was going mach 4.
"Comon' Katie!" Nans whispered, mentally giving her extra speed and agility. But the distortion field gained, and then overtook and enveloped Katie's Aardvark.
The needlejet formed a shadow within the field. Then there was a brief flash of light and the energy field broadened, and then fell apart. As it dissipated pieces of the needlejet emerged and arced to the ground.
Nans checked to see if Katie had ejected, but couldn't read anything through the distortion field. Worse, he knew he had a mission to complete.
"Throng, this is Aardvark 6. Katie is down. Proceeding with attack," he stated simply. With an economical motion he activated his nerve gas pods, which would follow the shard as it lanced into the ground.
Nans went into an attack run.
++++++++++++++++
Margie watched the first attacker strike. Blinding white light formed an unnatural straight line toward her city. She held her breath. Then a strange grayness formed over Social Engineering Den, and it seemed that the white energy died. There were no explosions like Margie expected. The craft, which was small at this range, pulled up and the strange grayness seemed to follow it. Arcing upward, the plane raced back toward Margie. But the grayness followed and, over Margie's fields, caught it. Margie looked up and could barely see the plane, but could see that moments after the gray caught it that it just came apart. The gray evaporated, and pieces of the plane came down. All of them were headed for Margie.
Margie eyes widened, but she was too stunned to even move. The bright, flaming chunks of metal and ceramic hurled toward her and exploded all around, forming craters and throwing up great arcs of ruptured earth and plants. The sky seemed to darken as rich, red earth was thrown into the sky in overlapping plumes, and the smoke from the plane filled the air. Margie watched as a large piece came hurtling toward the very spot where she stood. Margie had time to throw up her arms.
Then blackness.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Heavy. It 's hard to breath, Margie thought. Cautiously Margie opened her eyes, and saw red, raw earth. She tried to take a deep breath but couldn't. She looked down and saw that she was buried up to her waist in the deep rich soil of Social Engineering Den. Following an instinctive first aid procedure drilled into all Hive citizens she performed a quick self-examination by using the A-B-Cs; airway, bleeding, circulation. First the airway - she could breathe, even if she couldn't breathe deeply. Second bleeding. She found she wasn't bleeding too badly - just a few scrapes, and that her arms worked. Lastly circulation. She could feel her legs, even if they were buried under hundreds of kilos of dirt. Margie tried to turn to look up, but a sharp pain told her that her midsection was not happy about that decision. She decided to take it slowly and felt around with her hands.
The soil around her was loose, with some harder clods. Determined, she started to dig her way out. Cautiously, she slowly bent around so her arms could scoop away the soil. Her midsection said 'pain' - she obviously had at least one broken rib. Considering she expected to be dead, that was a good bargain. Steadily the soil was raked away.
Twenty minutes later Margie was free. After a quick examination she knew that everything worked. Sadly she looked across her field. It looked like it had been bombed, and, indeed, it actually had been. There were great rents and scrapes where larger chunks of the Spartan aircraft had gone down, and smaller areas where the Chironcorn was simply torn away and burned.
Margie caught her breath. The Spartan attack! She turned and looked toward her home, Social Engineering Den. Four fingers of black smoke poured from the area, and there were fires in four places around the surface by the smoke. Two of the plumes of smoke came from the city, but the two others were from the outskirts - obviously other airplane crash sites. In the far distance she could see an aircraft, high in the sky, dropping large objects that turned on jets and slowly floated to the ground. As they descended she could see that they were men and rovers. Military men and rovers. Spartan military men and rovers.
Margie sobbed. She sat in the moist earth, the life giving soil that nurtured her plants. Now even that was destroyed. The destroyers had come. The Spartans were airdropping into her city.
Now, what to I do? she asked herself. I can't go back. Where will I go? Margie's slight body trembled slightly.
Without meaning to, Margie got up and started walking in what was left of her corn. The fires were mostly out now. She reached out her fingers to let the green leaves touch her fingertips as she passed. As always she was careful not to disturb the roots, damage the stalks, or bruise the leaves. Almost mechanically Margie walked away from Social Engineering Den. Thinking about it, Margie squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the death. Imagining the destruction.
Margie neared one of the larger craters. Her cornrows lead straight for it and she didn't move to avoid it. A rampart of earth formed the edge of the crater, and it buried all the corn near it. Margie walked to the top of the crater, her feet sinking a little into the blasted and moist earth. At the base of the crater was a large chunk of metal. Without thinking Margie walked toward it, unconsciously knowing it was the central piece of the Spartan aircraft.
Then Margie heard a faint moan, which came from the forward section.
Margie stopped, and the glazed expression left her face. She paused to listen for the sound again and was rewarded with another groan. Margie took a deep breath, even though the air stank. Getting closer she recognized what had to be a cockpit. Bracing herself, she clambered up the dirt plowed in front and looked. A figure was slumped inside, surrounded by retraining harnesses. Dirt spilled in through the left side where the glasssteel of the canopy had been sheered away by some nameless force.
Margie looked at the pilot and noticed a scrap of hair, which was long and auburn in color. Mentally she decided what to do. She leaned forward through the rent and crawled partially inside. She reached out and brushed the hair away from the head of the pilot. This showed a thin face, long hair, no Adam's apple: a woman. She was obviously alive but was hurt.
Carefully Margie felt round the neck for a damaged spinal column. Finding nothing obvious she gently placed her hand on the woman's forehead and pushed her head back, showing her face. The pilot's face was covered with blood, which leaked from around her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Some blood even was trickling out of ruptured pores in her dusty-colored skin. At Margie's touch the woman's eyes fluttered a few times, then opened. They focused indistinctly on Margie.
"Hurt," she whispered. "Call for…help."
Even this effort seemed to exhaust the pilot.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of you," Margie replied.
Margie looked at the woman, who was helpless and hurt.
"I'll take care of you," she repeated.
Margie withdrew her hand from the pilot's forehead, which bobbed down. She reached down and placed both thumbs on her windpipe and pressed as hard as she could. Margie's face was transformed from one of dumbstruck grief to rage. She leaned forward, pressing all her weight into her work. The pilot struggled feebly, twitching, her head moving weakly as she tried to breathe.
After a few minutes the feeble thrashing stopped. Margie's jaw was locked into a hard grimace, her jaw muscles throbbing as her teeth ground together. She looked down, and her hands were covered with blood, as were the lower parts of her arms. She no longer felt the pain from her ribs. She felt nothing, except a blind and generalized rage.
Stooping, she backed out of the cockpit. As she retreated her right hand reflexively grabbed a handful of soil. Standing up, her face spasmed again, flexing between rage and inconsolable grief. She took a few ragged breaths, and she then walked to the top of the crater.
There were figures coming toward her from her dead city. Soldiers. Margie walked toward them, ignoring her cherished corn. Her feet ripped through its delicate stalks, and the leaves were torn as she passed.
"MURDERERS!" she screamed. Her bloody and empty left fist clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and her closed right fist clutched tightly to the earth it held.
"Halt! On the ground, face down, hands in front! NOW!" the nearest soldier yelled, his chaos rifle aimed directly at Margie's midsection.
Margie ignored his orders. "MURDERERS!" She raised her bloody arms and ran toward him.
Waiting only a fraction of second, the Spartan soldier fired. The chaos ripped through Margie. The energy of the blast twirled Margie around and she was dead before she hit ground.
The soldier advanced with his chaos rifle pointed at the threat. Margie's body lay on a crushed row of corn and her sightless eyes stared at the clear, blue sky. As her last breath escaped her body shifted and her lifeless and bloody right hand slowly unclenched. Released from its bondage, the rich, blood-soaked soil fell back to the earth from whence it came.
[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited June 28, 2000).]
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