Ep.#8 - "Celestia: CV-02" (28 page)

“Mains are hot,” Luis reported as he pressed the button to power up the Celestia’s main drive. “Throttling up.”

The partially empty hull of the Celestia made a strange rumble as her main engines lit up and drove the ship forward.

“Passing ten percent,” Luis reported. He could feel the ship moving despite the efforts of their inertial dampening systems. “Should we be feeling it this much, sir?”

“I don’t think the inertial dampeners have been fully calibrated yet,” the lieutenant commander admitted. “I guess it’s better than nothing, though.”

“Passing twenty percent.” Luis watched the ship’s forward speed as it quickly rose. With each percent increase of thrust, he could feel himself being pushed back in his seat just a bit more. “Passing thirty percent.”

“We’re accelerating faster than we were the first time. I don’t feel it anywhere near as much,” the lieutenant said, “so I guess the inertial dampeners are doing something.”

“Passing forty.”

“Keep an eye on that clock,” the lieutenant commander reminded Ensign Souza. “If we aren’t cold-coasting again by 23:30, that fourth Jung battle group will come out from behind the Earth and spot our main thrust ports without even trying.”

“Almost two minutes into the burn now, sir,” the ensign reported.

“Good. Don’t take your eyes off it.”

* * *

Sergeant Surbeck fired wildly in the direction of the Jung energy weapons fire in the distant darkness, as the enemy forces closed in on him and his men from all sides. They fought on the run, firing as they ran from cover to cover and trying to find a hole in the Jung’s rear line through which they could escape. Finally, they had nowhere left to run.

“Concentrate all fire there!” the sergeant ordered, pointing at the Jung line.

All eight of his remaining men immediately complied, taking aim at the same general point and firing away. One by one, Jung troops began to fall, and a hole was created.

“Through there!” the sergeant yelled. “Fire to the sides as you go, and don’t stop running for anything!”

All nine of them came out from behind their modest cover, charging toward the hole in the Jung line, running as fast as they could, and firing to either side of the hole. The first man out barely made it two steps before his torso disappeared, leaving only a head, arms, and legs to topple to the ground. The second man made it a bit farther before his entire left shoulder and arm were melted away, and he fell to the ground screaming in agony. The third man ran past his fallen comrades, paying them no attention as he, too, made the mad dash for his life. Two more followed closely behind, firing to either side as more of their comrades fell to enemy energy weapons fire.

Sergeant Surbeck and the last three UER soldiers burst out from behind cover at the same time, charging behind the others. With seven of them firing on either side of the hole, they managed to keep the Jung nearest them ducking behind their cover.

The first three men broke through the Jung’s loose line of attackers and continued running. Unfortunately, they did not continue firing, instead, just running for their lives.

“Keep firing!” the sergeant yelled as he finally made it through the gap. He and two others shuffled sideways for several meters as they fired at the Jung, dropping several of them as they scurried to find new cover. The result was an even bigger gap in the lines. Now there were four of them, the sergeant and three of his men, walking quickly backward as they fired at the exposed Jung line.

Jung soldiers immediately began popping up from behind cover and moving toward the gap in their defense line, taking care to remain protected by whatever obstacles they could find to use as cover against the UER projectile weapons.

Sergeant Surbeck turned around and started running as he dropped his empty magazine and slammed in a new one. “Run! Run! Run!” he urged as he shot wildly behind him in the hopes of discouraging any pursuers. He glanced over his shoulder as he fired but realized that the Jung were no longer pursuing them. “Head for the fence line!” he yelled to his men ahead of him. If they could make it there, they could breach the fence and disappear into the city itself. Once free of their uniforms and weapons, they would be safe. It was too late for the United Earth Republic’s capitol building; it was lost to the overwhelming forces of the Jung.

The brightly lit fence line grew closer, and Sergeant Surbeck’s hopes of escape became stronger. Then he heard the sound of one of the Jung gunships approaching from behind. He dove to the ground, rolled, and came up on one knee facing behind him, his weapon raised and firing at the gunship. The gunship fired back, tearing up the ground before him as bolts from the gunship’s forward turret walked along the ground and right up to the sergeant. The bolts kicked dirt in his face just before they walked up his body, striking him in the thigh, abdomen, and chest. His body suddenly burned with intense pain as his flesh and bone instantly melted away, and he collapsed on the ground, a smoldering pile of bone and charred tissue.

The gunship streaked overhead, the sergeant’s eyes following it as he lay on the ground in agony. He could hear the sound of the gunship’s turret as it continued firing. He could hear the sound of his men as they, too, were seared by the Jung energy weapons. Moments later, the sounds stopped, and his vision blurred just before it went black.

* * *

Admiral Galiardi sat in his chair, staring at the tactical display map on the far wall. The room had taken a somber tone over the last few minutes, as everyone in the room witnessed the fall of not only the Earth Defense Forces, but all of the national surface forces as well. Icons representing Jung forces on the ground covered the map, especially in areas of dense populations. While the Jung invasion fleet might have been small in number, their ground troops were not.

“Sir,” Rear Admiral Duncan began, “we just lost all contact with the Zhang-Ti.”

“What about the Jung cruisers she was chasing?” the admiral asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“We have lost all contact with them as well. There were numerous nuclear detonations in the area of the contacts. Long-range sensors are picking up scattered contacts, most of them smaller than an escape pod. At that distance, it’s hard to tell, but we’re confident it is debris, probably from all three ships.”

“Then we have no more warships in space,” the admiral said, stating fact.

“That is correct. We are also down to fewer than one hundred fighters, none of which have bases to which they may return and rearm. All our surface-to-orbit defenses were wiped out long ago. The Jung now have superiority in all areas: in space, in the air, and on the surface.”

The admiral sighed. He looked at his friend. “I really thought we had them.”

“We almost did,” Rear Admiral Duncan said. “But I believe it’s time.”

Admiral Galiardi looked at his old friend. They had spent the last twenty years shaping the Earth Defense Forces together, battling politicians and public opinion in their efforts to ensure the safety of their world. They had made compromises that went against their beliefs in order to obtain the concessions they felt gave them the greatest benefit in battle. In the end, it had almost paid off. There was still one more chance.

“You know the order I have to give you,” the admiral said.

“I know, sir.”

“You know how hard it is for me to give that order.”

“I’ll make it easy on you,” Rear Admiral Duncan said. “I’ll volunteer.”

Admiral Galiardi smiled at his old friend as he placed his hand on the console screen in front of him. After the screen scanned his hand to identify him, it displayed a list of options. The admiral selected the option named ‘Buckeye’, typed in a pass phrase, and pressed the initiate button. After logging out, he stood and extended his hand to his friend. “Thank you, Marty.”

“Good luck, Mike,” Rear Admiral Duncan said as they shook hands. He looked his friend in the eye one last time. “Run the bastards off our world.”

“I will, Marty. I will.” Admiral Galiardi turned and headed to his office, just as he had a thousand times before. He picked up a few things from his desk and placed them in his briefcase: a few data chips, a picture of his deceased wife with his children and grandchildren, and one of him and Marty on a fishing trip out on Cape Lopez Bay. He stood at his desk a moment, looking through the window into the command center and hoping that something on the tactical map had suddenly changed for the better, but a thousand blinking red icons still marked his failure.

The admiral took a deep breath, closed his briefcase, and headed out the side exit and into the back corridor. In a few minutes, he would be on a high-speed, underground transport that would take him to the southern edge of the city where he would be covertly evacuated by EDF Special Forces operatives to a safe house hundreds of kilometers away. He had a new mission ahead of him, one that would be even more challenging, but first, he had to disappear. He had to blend in with the population.

Rear Admiral Duncan signaled for his communications officer.

“Yes, sir,” the officer responded as he came to stand near his commander.

“I have two messages for you to send. First, to all stations and all units, transmit the code word ‘Buckeye’ followed by orders to lay down all arms and stand down,” the rear admiral instructed. “The second message is to be broadcast to the Jung on all channels and all frequencies, no encryption. Message reads, ‘We surrender.’”

“Yes, sir,” the comm officer answered, trying to hide his disbelief.

Rear Admiral Duncan went to the admiral’s chair, sat down, and rolled up to the console before him. He placed his hand on the scanner to verify his identity. The screen changed and displayed a list of options. Rear Admiral Duncan chose ‘Buckeye’, typed in a pass phrase, and pressed the execute button. A timer appeared on the screen showing five minutes. It flashed three times, then began counting down. Rear Admiral Martin Duncan had carried out his final orders.

* * *

Admiral Yamori, head of the Fleet’s special projects division, stood in the crisis room at the Special Projects headquarters in North America. As the commander of the department that managed all research and development for the Earth Defense Force, the admiral was one of only three people on Earth that knew about the STS projects.

“Admiral, sir,” the soldier said as he stepped up and saluted, interrupting the admiral’s conversation with a subordinate.

Admiral Yamori looked at the soldier, not recognizing him. He noticed that the man was in full combat gear, heavily armed, and wore the EDF special operations patch on his shoulder.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” the general asked, noticing that there were three more similarly dressed and armed men behind the lieutenant.

“I need you to come with us, sir.”

“What’s this about?”

“Admiral!” a junior officer cried out, turning to move quickly toward him. “We just got word from Fleet Command! We’ve surrendered, sir!”

The admiral’s face turned pale. He looked at the lieutenant, realization in his eyes. For a moment, he thought his knees would give out, and he’d collapse to the floor, but he did not. He managed to summon all his strength.

“Buckeye?” he asked, his voice quivering and barely audible.

“Yes, sir,” the steely eyed lieutenant responded.

“Major,” the admiral said, “order all personnel to remain at their posts until further orders. No one is to leave the building, other than these four men. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the major answered, somewhat confused.

The admiral turned back to the lieutenant, his voice having returned. “We can talk in my office, Lieutenant.”

“As you wish, sir,” the lieutenant responded, gesturing for the admiral to lead the way.

Admiral Yamori walked calmly across the room and down the corridor, the four men following close behind. He reached a side entrance to his office and entered, the lieutenant and one of his subordinates following the admiral inside.

The admiral walked behind his desk and took his seat. “I accept my own fate, Lieutenant,” the admiral said as he opened his desk drawer.

“Slowly, sir,” the lieutenant warned, his left hand up and his right hand on his sidearm hanging from his belt.

Admiral Yamori’s eyes darted quickly from one man to the next, noting that both of them were poised and ready to draw their weapons. He also knew that special operations soldiers never missed and always shot to kill.

“Relax, Lieutenant,” the admiral said, pulling a small metallic container from his desk. He popped the lid open and tipped the container to empty its contents onto the desk. A small, red capsule fell out of the container. The admiral picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, showing it to the lieutenant. “As I was saying, I accept my own fate. However, I do question that of my staff. Most of them know nothing of the projects that we manage here. Are their deaths really necessary?”

“That’s none of my concern, Admiral,” the lieutenant replied coldly. “I’m just here to carry out my orders, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”

“No shades of gray, huh?”

“No, sir. No loose ends.”

The admiral held the pill up to his mouth. “Good luck, Lieutenant. You and your ilk are going to need it.” The admiral placed the pill between his back teeth and bit down hard, breaking the capsule open. He could taste the bitter liquid as it oozed out of the capsule and spread through his mouth. He tried not to swallow, as if refusing to ingest the vile poison would save him.

The lieutenant watched with professional detachment as the admiral’s face began to grow pale once more. He looked at his watch, checking the amount of elapsed time. The seconds went by sluggishly, as the admiral slowly began to fade away. The old man’s eyelids drooped. His eyes rolled upward and back, and his head fell backward against the tall back of his office chair. His body went limp, his arms dangling at his sides. His mouth hung open, and he began to drool as his respirations slowed.