The process of colonization was complete. All five thousand of The Frontier’s crew was now living on the surface of the planet, ensconced within a domed structure called Pasbiona. The process of colonization was relatively simple. The Frontier was loaded with the pre-colony capsule in one of its missile launchers. The crew then oriented the ship and fired the capsule down towards the desired point of colonization. The capsule crashed into the ground, digging deep before self-deploying into several basic structures, vital to colonization and the support of the colonists.
He was now once again in luxurious quarters, though these quarters were on the planet. There was no need to establish a firm government yet. The spirit of brotherhood that existed between the individuals of the colony was doing a good job of holding everything together. Everybody worked, nobody complained, everybody went home happy. Communism, that was the word. It had once been a form of government back on Earth. Galvin never had much faith in it though; he’d seen what it had done to the countries who utilized it. The door opened behind him.
“Morning Galvin darling,” his wife chirped.
They were wed a week ago. Obviously in order to have a successful colony the inhabitants must reproduce. The local marriage registry had been extremely busy of late, there were almost twenty marriages a day for it to handle. They already had plans for two children, a boy and a girl, though those plans might change as time wore on, but for now, that was what they were going for.
“Hey dear, how are you today?”
“Can’t complain,” she laughed, “I’m getting ready to head out to the hydroponics facility now, though, and you should be heading off to your job too.”
Galvin Sylveste checked his watch, “I do suppose I should be going as well.”
Naturally, as the leader of this expedition he had the responsibility of making sure all went well within the colony. That meant visiting the various parts of the dome that were important and checking to make sure that all was operating at maximum efficiency. His wife was already out the door. Stopping at the door on his way out, he looked back into his well-furnished house, sighed and stepped out. The mechanical door slid shut behind him, locking with a decisive click.
—
Having just left the hangar of the Peacemaker, Pilot Doug Yuen heard the VLF confirmation in his headset and nodded to his navigator/weapons specialist partner seated behind him, and to his wingman just 20 metres off his starboard wing. He waited until the they reached the desired waypoint, then one by one his squadron of 12 orbital bombers peeled off to port and came in low and hot on the target. This was nothing new to him; ever since joining the UN Space Command at a relatively young age of 17, he had become one of the elite attack pilots in the military, and he enjoyed the bomber he flew.
“Watch yourselves, recon reports that there are some inactive defenses set up by the aliens around the city,” he said for the benefit of the others in his flight.
“Roger that, Black-Five,” responded the squadron leader. “Everyone knows their pre-assigned targets. Be aware of your fellow pilots. Let’s not have any friendly kills here.” The memories of the triple-bomber collision on their last attack run four days ago was still fresh in everyone’s’ mind. Here, they were professionals, but you could never forget the danger of the job; that was why bomber pilots and specialists got additional hazard’s pay.
“Line ‘em up straight for me this time, will ya?” teased his navigation/weapons specialist partner, Jason Fischer of South Carolina. “I don’t need to practice my vector math when I drop the bombs at unusual angles, yeah?”
“Can it, or I’ll eject you from the craft over enemy territory” retorted Doug, who had a hard time suppressing the urge to laugh. He focused on his HUD and throttled back as they neared the city.
The mass of structures separated into distinct individual buildings as the bombers closed the distance at frightening speeds. “Geronimo!” shouted one pilot over the squadron comms, as the first Hellfire-IV missiles leapt off their rails. The anti-defensive weapons targeted any electromagnetic wave emissions and blasted them with a 500-kilo, armor-piercing warhead. Lasers flashed from the cannons mounted on the wingtips and underside of the bombers, ripping swaths through the city beyond.
“Let ‘er rip!” screamed Jason as he released the first bombs. Smoke started to billow skywards, obscuring targets, as flashes appeared from many of the city’s buildings and boulevards. Of these, some were secondary explosions going off, others automatic defensive weapons returning fire at the bombers. More Hellfires launched in response, silencing these and unbalancing the odds in the attackers’ favor.
A few bullets rattled on the underside of the belly of the bomber, and the status board on the top of the cockpit canopy showed loss of the underside laser cannon. Under reflex, Doug jinxed to port, then corkscrewed up to starboard from the fray. A number of bomblets Jason had just released missed their target by a few blocks.
“You son of a…”
“Hey, cool it. We got an unlucky hit. I’ll come around for one more pass in a minute,” Doug tried to smooth his partner’s irritated nerves.
Minutes later he joined his squadron mates in the air, as they flew in V-formation back to the safety of space. It was a mission well-done; only three bombers of the 12 took damage, and none were lost today. The city’s defenses had been obliterated, softening them up for the army to finish the job of subduing the populace.
—
The scanners at his post were going wild. Brossk looked around him at the other faces in the room, and exact replicas of his own fearful face looked back at him. According to the visual display, there were currently at least fifty blips of all sizes descending upon their city. Earlier an orbital bombardment from the ships above of the outsiders had leveled the city walls. In short, all of their defensive systems were now inoperational and he wondered why his radar command post had been spared. The shock hit him – these invaders planned on capturing the city, leaving the command post intact with its associated radar coverage was a tactical decision on their part. Little did he know that all the city-states of Mysh were under the same kind of assault.
“Sir, what should we do now?” asked a young Lieutenant. The lad was barely past twenty years of age.
“I don’t know,” Brossk was racked with indecision. He once again turned to the visual display with its fearsome array of red blips. “I suppose we should fight, it’s what we’ve always done.” Who was he kidding, he knew they wouldn’t last long against these invaders, the bombardment had proved that much to him. A sudden mental image of charred bodies lying amongst the mass of rubble that had once been the walls of Tenoch flashed through his mind. He shook it off. “We fight, if you don’t want to, then I suggest you head back to your families and your homes and hope that these invaders wish to capture the city and not raze it.”
“Sir, you’ve led us through two wars, we’re willing to stand by your side, all we need is your order,” shouted a soldier.
They were sure to die, would it be fair to risk the lives of all these other young men in a hopeless cause. As the defence official it was his duty to die defending the city, but these others, they need not be wasted. “If you wish to, follow me, I’m heading off for the armoury, otherwise, I implore you, return to your homes and sit tight.”
A few got up and immediately made for the door, disappearing through it in a flash. Among them was the soldier who had so dedicatedly shown his support for Brossk. He couldn’t’ blame him, the fear inside him was fast rising and all he wished was to return home and wait this invasion out too. Fighting down the temptation to flee, he headed off for the armoury, and a few behind him immediately got up to follow.
“I don’t want to die, but if it is duty that calls, then die I must,” whispered the guard by the door, following Brossk out the door.
Tears welled up in Brossk’s eyes as he continued to stride forward, not with the confidence he usually had, but the determination of a man who had an obligation to fulfill. Reaching the armoury, he found its doors already open and inside, the few who he thought had bolted a while ago. They were distributing the guns to themselves, equipping themselves with what weaponry there was available on the walls and in the lockers of the armoury. He himself strapped a belt of ammunition around his chest, took a pack of shrapnel grenades and picked up the standard issue pepper-gun, named so for its ability to fire over eight hundred bullets a minute. A warning sounded throughout the entire command post, informing those inside of the invader’s landing. Any moment now, they would be coming through that door, people would die, the invaders would win, but he would have his honour. The school of Tenoch had never prepared him for what came next.
The door of the entrance of the command post glowed red, then white, before exploding in a shower of shrapnel so dense that anything bigger than a basketball was shredded instantaneously. Brossk watched as those around him were cut into pieces. The laser bolt that burned a hole through his head gave him no pain.
—
Granger watched as his dropship and others slowly settled on the raised highway nearer the heart of the city. Immediately the doors opened up, and Crusader Tanks as well as Cheyenne Assault Vehicles rumbled out and set up defensive positions around the ship. Heavy small arms fire rattled at the vehicles but did not do more than scratch the surface of these behemoths. A number of soldiers ran out, keeping cover behind the vehicles, and returned fire at various enemy positions.
A massive, Emperor-class command-vehicle rumbled out; it was the core of the dropship. The general sat inside, surrounded in a heavily fortified tank that could withstand virtually any attack besides unconventional forms. The highway proved too narrow for its bulk, so it crushed the central divider and moved without pause towards the main target the large building at the centre of the city. It was the guess of Military Intelligence that this was the main command centre for the entire city. It rolled to a stop about 50 meters from the entrance to the building.
With limited gunfire now heard, the general and his company of Special Forces exited the vehicle, and set up a perimeter near the entrance.
“Appears locked, sir,” reported a sergeant with a wry smirk.
“You know what to do,” the general replied curtly.
Saluting, the sergeant turned and jogged off to fetch an explosives expert. Soon one arrived with a heavy pack on his back. Unnecessarily ducking to avoid enemy fire, he reached the door, and placed his pack on the ground. From it, using a hand on each handle, he removed a massive device that looked like an enlarged manhole. He stuck it onto the door, squeezing the handles together to engage the suction clamp, then typing into the keypad at its center, programmed it to blast in 30 seconds.
Known as an Ultrafrequency Vibrational Detonator, or UVD, it vibrated whatever it was attached to at extremely high frequencies, to the point that they naturally vibrated, heated, and exploded into thousands of lethal parts; shrapnel. It was designed such that the shrapnel was also directed into a blast zone. Anyone within about fifty meters, in the direction of the blast zone, would be shredded into pieces.
With more hurried steps the explosives expert scurried away, and the men of the Special Forces readied themselves to burst in. The countdown seemed to take an eternity, then a high-pitched whine could be heard and the door exploded into the building, making the sound of a soft-drink can being crushed, only louder. The Special Forces men hurried in, followed by their general.
What they found inside was a massacre. At least a hundred of the humanoid aliens lay dead, many with severed limbs, scattered over the walls, their blood providing a sticky coating for the floor. The general peered through the gloom as automatic fire was silenced by the lasers of his men. Looking towards the center of the room was a dazed alien wearing a uniform different from those around him. Granger realized it must be his alien counterpart. Their eyes met. Without hesitation Granger brought his assault laser to his shoulder and fired, hitting him straight in the forehead. The alien crumpled before his eyes.
The city was the scene of a bloody massacre for the next four hours. A few hundred UN soldiers were killed, while the thousands of the aliens in the city were practically slaughtered like livestock. Eventually order was restored by the commanding officers, who rounded up the soldiers onto the dropships. They camped in the town for the night, continuing to loot and burn what they could. At first dawn the dropships finally left, leaving behind a cratered ruin.