Short Story: CRISIS

CRISIS

Location: Some misbegotten third world hell hole

A warehouse situated in the middle of a jungle was monitored by satellite and then by aerial drones before the decision to move in on the ground was made. The ACH-60 Silent Hawk helicopter cruised low over the top of the jungle, avoiding the occasional higher branches. On board were the eleven soldiers of CRISIS, a specially created unit outside of any regular military outfit.

The helicopter hovered a several kilometers to the west of the warehouse while two bundles were lowered and then eleven soldiers repelled down to the ground below. The soft dirt of the tropical jungle and the musty smell of decayed vegetation met the soldiers. The helicopter left.

“Okay, the target is a short march away. We need to keep ourselves aware, for all we know we are being monitored already.” One of them told the rest, there was no insignia on their uniforms but his voice and demeanor was enough to show he was the one in charge.

The two large bundles were opened up and each of the eleven took up their own part of the burden, as they had practiced and trained to do for months. The US military did not dare to carry out an airstrike against the target without permission, since relations were already rocky. They also did not want to inform the host country of the targets existence, since this would show they were being spied on.

The only option was a covert operation to neutralize the target. This had to be done with troops from outside of any normal military channel. Besides the advanced, stealthy helicopter and being launched from aboard one of the many amphibious warfare ships in the US arsenal this operation was totally deniable.

The eleven soldiers marched quickly but carefully. They monitored what lay before them using the drones that orbited above. Nothing was stirring at the warehouse as far as anything could be determined. Electronic signature and com chatter from the target location was non-existent. It was as if the place was closed for a holiday.

“Okay, team two circles to the rear. Set up your cover as soon as you arrive.” Their leader told them and five of the soldiers saluted and moved away through the dense foliage of the jungle.

Then the leader approached one of the soldiers who was setting up a camera-sensor package aimed at the warehouse as well as a mortar. “I want to get a look inside if I can.” He told one of the soldiers, who quickly dug into his pack and came out with a chrome case.

Opening the case he took out a small bug-like object. This was a drone, one of the smallest ever made that carried a camera. Hardly bigger than the dragonflies it resembled, the small drones was made to fly outdoors even in wind gusts. After setting up the monitoring equipment and screen, the drone launched into the air on flapping wings and moved toward the warehouse.

With a close up view the drone moved around, looking through windows and for any opening that might allow it to get inside. Finally the operator made it check the ceiling where it found several openings, these seemed to have been meant for ventilation. The bug-like drone entered the warehouse for a good look around.

“I don't see any movement.” The soldier operating the drone said. “But there are a lot of crates and silver capsules against the wall.”

The leader of the unit nodded. Those metal capsules were the reason for this operation. Actually, what was in them was the reason for it. This warehouse was the den of a terrorist supply operation that sold these things to any group no matter how awful their goals or plans.

The small drone flew over a partial wall that divided the warehouse into two sections. There were more capsules, some of them were open and empty. There were several tables in the center of this area, lying on three of them were humanoid shaped robots.

The leader frowned and closed his eyes. He remembered the first time he had seen one of these things in action in old Los Angeles. The mechanical monster ripped through flesh as if there was no resistance at all. Bone and stuff usually slowed down a knife, but not if it was wielded by these things. It had moved so fast that it was impossible to aim a gun as it sliced up people in its path.

When it did stop the police issued 9 millimeter pistols did nothing to it. Shotguns were as useless. When the SWAT team was brought in, the thing had taken to crashing through walls and going from building to building without coming out into the open for the snipers to get a bead on it.

It had reached an area shopping center between a busy mall and a school. A nightmare was unfolding for everyone involved. Finally the governor had gotten through to the President who resisted getting involved until he turned on the news and saw the bodies spread all over the place.

A flight of jets had come in low and a series of 250-lb bombs had laid waste to the shopping center. Army vehicles and troops surrounded the site while the mall and school were evacuated. They sifted through the rubble before confirming that the blood-thirsty robot had been destroyed. It was immediately sent for intense study.

“This was a terrorist event. We will find those who built and sent this machine to kill. We will find those responsible and we will stop them.” The President had said later in a nationally televised speech about the deaths of 300 people in Los Angeles.

It had only been the first of many such incidents around the world. International cooperation determined that existing terror organizations were buying these robots from somewhere. All of the robots had been essentially the same, although some had been used as walking bombs while others killed with firearms or swords.

The Criminal Robot Interdiction Specialized International Squad had been formed as soon as governments got around to understanding what they were dealing with. Unfortunately most countries were now so afraid of the terrorists that they refused to cooperate. At least officially.

The team leader watched the warehouse, it felt wrong.

“It looks like everything is clear.” One of the soldiers said. “Looks like none of the robots are activated.”

“That would be too easy.” He responded.

“Mama Bear.” One of the soldiers spoke into a satellite phone. “Everything looks clear. We're proceeding with caution.”

All of the video and sensor information they collected was being bounced off a satellite down to the amphibious warfare ship two hundred miles off the coast. The ship was being used as the command center for the whole operation. If it was needed there would be a half-dozen F-35B's on the way within minutes carrying bombs to eliminate the warehouse. It would be a diplomatic disaster, but this warehouse needed to be destroyed.

“We need to get in and find out who is behind this.” The team leader said. This was their primary mission and even though it might be a trap, they had to do it.

The team leader activated his radio. “Prepare for breach.”

Two men on each side of the warehouse carefully approached the warehouse to doors. Once there they stood about ten feet in front of the door and pulled out a black cylinder about two feet long. The soldier held it in front of him with handles on either side. Once the designator highlighted the door it fired a burst of square metal bits that tore the door into splinters.

“Still no movement from inside.” The soldier monitoring the sensors and camera feed said.

The team leader shook his head. “Okay, let's go in.”

Five soldiers approached the front, led by the team leader. Four soldiers approached the rear entry. Each side left one soldier behind to act as sort of an over-watch, monitoring sensors and drone feeds.

The team leader and his four soldiers entered through the destroyed doorway and found themselves inside some kind of office. “Look for any files or computers.” He instructed them. They opened every cabinet and drawer but there was nothing.

“It's been cleaned out.” One of the soldiers said.

Team leader waved them to follow him. He opened the inner door and entered the main part of the warehouse with crates and pallets of equipment. Against one of the walls were a dozen of the metal capsules that the nerds called eggs.

“Prep those things for detonation.” He told them and three soldiers ran to apply plastic explosive charges and wire them together. He wanted to get a better look around. The crates and boxes could be clues, they had to have been shipped from somewhere.

Before he got far there was firing and screams from the other side of the partition.

“We're under attack!” He heard in his earpiece.

“Let's go!” He said, pulling up his M-4z combat rifle that had been slung to his side. The others followed him, loading grenades into their rifles grenade launchers. They kicked the door open on the partition and entered.

Three mechanical terrorists turned their heads to look at the new intruders. Team leader only saw two of the other team in the far corner trying to fight off the attack. Two more lay on the floor, they looked like they had been flattened by steam rollers.

“Fire!” He ordered and the five of them opened up. The rounds weren't penetrating the robot hide and the enemy moved toward them.

“Grenades” He said and they all fired at the same time. The explosions tore two of the robots into scrap while a third was simply thrown against the far wall by the percussion. It still looked intact. Then it moved toward the dead humans and scooped up an M4 combat rifle.

“It's got a gun!” someone yelled and more shooting took place.

One of the soldiers on the other side went down, a red fog had erupted from his head. The last one slipped through the door and escaped. One of the capsules against the wall, which he had thought were the empties, opened and another robot joined the fray. It leaped right up to one of his men and began pounding his face with his metal hands like a jackhammer.

“Retreat, let's get out of here!” Team leader said. Then into his radio, “Mama Bear, we need some shock and awe.”

They backed up while keeping their guns engaged. The robot with the gun shot down two of his men before he and two more escaped.

“Get away, now!” He said as they all ran through the jungle. The sound of incoming bombs flew over them and then the ear-splitting explosions rocked the ground they were on, throwing them off-balance.

In his ear he heard one of the pilots say “One bogey escaped the warehouse.”

He rolled over and pushed himself up. He slipped another grenade into the launcher on his combat rifle and saw that two soldiers near him did the same. Team leader didn't know how many of his men were still alive at this point. It didn't matter anyway, until it was over.

Then he heard a loud noise to his right and saw that one of the F-35B had gone into a hover and was hunting the robot. It made him feel a little better to have some air support, even though the diplomatic blow-back from this operation was going to be huge.

“I see it!” He heard the pilot yell, then the externally mounted 25mm gun pod began firing at something. It must have been moving too fast for the aircraft because the pilot had to keep moving the hovering plane around.

Team leader gave the hand signal and the two other soldiers followed him toward the area where the robot might be.

Suddenly something reached out and struck the aircraft, one of the wings dipped low and clipped some trees causing it to slide into the ground. The engine of the crashed plane continued to whine as team leader and his men searched for the last robot.

“Prepare to fire your grenades.” He told them. He knew the odds weren't too good, but he didn't want to leave that thing running around. It would eventually be sold to a terrorist group somewhere if they left it intact. He didn't plan to let that happen.

“Extraction flight inbound.” He heard over the radio. The helicopter that had dropped them off was coming back to pick them up. This whole thing was a disaster, but the warehouse was destroyed with what might have been dozens of the robots. That was the good news.

Something flashed in front of him and one of his men fell to the ground, almost beheaded from a gash in his throat. Where was it? How could it move so fast in a jungle?

“We need to find it!” He said loudly.

“I hear something.” The last soldier said and turned toward behind the team leader. The grenade was fired followed by rifle fire. “I missed, da...” he never finished before his body hit the floor of the jungle. The team leader turned and found himself nearly face to face with the killer robot. It moved it's arm and the team leader fell backwards and aimed his rifle.

BOOM! Team leader shit his eyes because of the loud blast. He felt air rush over his face. The robot was still standing there, sword in its hand. It turned around, its back was missing a lot of the armor plates and innards were exposed.

One of his soldiers had used the door breach gun to distract the robot. The technician who monitored the drones and sensors threw the useless shell down and pulled out his pistol. The robot started to move toward the technician bit team leader sprayed its back with M4z rounds and it stopped, then it fell face first to the ground.

“You got to get them before they move too fast.” The technician said, sounding scared, as the whispering sound of the stealth helicopter showed up above them. Someone repelled down and looked around, “That pilot is still alive. Can you help me get him out?”

The F-35B engine had finally stopped, team leader had been too busy to notice. The plane had not exploded but it was mostly upside down. They had to dig below the broken canopy and pull the pilot from the wreckage.

“Fast movers are on the way to destroy this plane and hit the warehouse site again, just in case.” The man told them as they prepared the injured pilot for his turn to be lifted into the helicopter. Then he and the technician were hoisted aboard. Other helicopters were inbound to recover the bodies of the fallen.

“We still have no idea who is behind all this.” He thought to himself. “We eliminated the warehouse and the robots, but at a high cost.”

This is not over.

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I want to apologize for my absence. I will try to continue as much as I can, even if my productivity has been dragged down a bit.

Short Story: Dark Envoy

Dark Envoy

by Floyd Looney

 

The fang-shaped black craft moved silently through space toward the moons of Rarvis, the third world in this solar system. The lone occupant of the vessel expected to be challenged at any time by the defense forces of Rarvis, but he had gotten a lot closer than he thought possible before being noticed.

Assuming they hadn't noticed was the flaw, of course. The Sartorian wasn't going to make the mistake of thinking Rarvis would be that easy a target. In fact he would assume they had been tracking him the entire time since dropping out of transit-space.

The phrase 'moons of Rarvis', while technically accurate, was a misnomer. There was one large moon hanging about but there were dozens of small ones keeping position with the big one while orbiting Rarvis. The Sartorian's passive sensors noted that there were indeed sensors embedded on most of these smaller rocks.

Now there was no doubt they were monitoring him. The defense systems on the large moon had not activated because they may have identified him already. That would be a bit disconcerting, unless they were not alarmed because it was just the lone ship. The Sartorian assumed they would never make that kind of mistake; just because you only detect one does not mean it is alone.

Old habits die hard and the Sartorian grinned. He wasn't here as a scout for the Great Fleet of Sarto, he was a civilian now, he was the Envoy.

“Sarto Vessel, Envoy Malok. We have been expecting you, please set in the follow coordinates and follow the traffic control beam to the appointed landing site.” The communication burst had bluntly said.

As his ship passed the small moon he was finally contacted by the Rarvis security forces. The first communication told him they knew exactly who and what he was. How they had come by this information was a mystery. How his appointment as Envoy had reached them before his arrival was unnerving. Not just spies, but very fast and competent spies at that.

The Sartorians and Rarvisians were new allies. Although the relationship between the worlds was still quite rocky and tentative, it seemed to Malok that the Rarvisians might actually be worthy. Sure, he would look for any weakness that might be exploited, for those are the pitfalls of diplomacy. He would try to make peace and trade while looking for any way that Sartorians could come and take over.

The Rarvisians would no doubt be doing the same with Sarto because this was the expected path of diplomacy among all the known worlds. An Envoy was a diplomat, a spy and a possible enemy all in one. No world allow foreign worlds to have permanent diplomats and would never in a million cycles declare even a tokan of land to be foreign sovereign territory.

The ship followed the beam in. Malok found his ship moving over the expansive capitol city of Rarvis, mostly white and gray buildings of various size. He had learned nothing about their military abilities but they had shown off their intelligence gathering abilities. That arrogance seemed to be very contrary to the regular nature of Rarvisians. It could be some kind of warning that Sarto shouldn't take them lightly.

The landing site was a spaceport within the city. Possibly the city had grown and expanded around it over a long time. His vessel was moved to a parking location far from any other ship, of which only a few were in evidence.

Surface vehicles were parked nearby and he could see black-suited soldiers patrolling the area for possible saboteurs, rebels or dragoons from his own ship. The security forces seemed competent but sparse enough not be threatening. He could see a black turreted vessel in the distance.

A trio of white-robed people near a large-ish ground vessel walked halfway to his ship and stopped, as per protocol. He set the ship to explode if boarded and then left to greet the dignitaries who would accompany him to meet the leaders of Rarvis.

“Envoy Malok, I am Torin, the Grandee of the High Assembly. These are Minister of Stellar Semian and the Personal Secretary of the Arch himself, Garja.”

The three Rarvisians were of the light-green variation and their scales were flush with their bodies and looked seamless. Almost an entirely different look from the average Rarvisian who were obvious reptilians. Maybe the idea that better looking people were more likely to get ahead was true even here.

The vehicle was comfortable enough but he couldn't see much of the city since it flew over the buildings and streets below. Soon it was setting down at a grand palace, the well-appointed and manicured grounds surrounded by high walls with towers.

Did the Rarvisian leaders fear their own people? That would be the sort of information that Sarto's Ministry of Intelligence would like to know. Malok wanted to be able to walk the streets, see the people and their conditions. Find out how if the government here was oppressive and by how much. Obviously every strong world needed to be a bit oppressive, but there was a point where this became a negative fr everyone.

He was greeted by other functionaries, exchanged pleasantries, at the palace and then followed them inside to meet the Arch himself. None of them would bring up the fact that they all knew who he was and that he had been appointed as Envoy. He wondered how much they knew about him. If they had send the information by trans-space probe at the time he was appointed, they might have had little time to do much research on his past.

If he could figure out where the holes in their knowledge of him, Malok might be able to use it to his advantage. This could be interesting.

The Personal Secretary of the Arch himself bowed to them and said he would inform his majesty that the Envoy had arrived. This was all protocol, the Arch had probably known since the second the vessel had landed at the palace.

The Rarvisians were putting up a front, that much was obvious to Malok. The more they continued this charade the more suspicious he would become. Malok rubbed his nose to hide a grin, it probably wasn't possible to get more cynical than what was needed to be an Envoy.

Besides the grim-faced soldier at the door, all the Rarvisians present were well-aged with the lighter shade of green and smooth features most desired on their world. He wondered how many of them were undergoing operations to keep their desirable features from fading.

Torin, who headed the High Assembly looked confident and in charge. This wasn't the Grand Assembly, this was not his turf. His casual manners, from what Malok knew of their kind, was pretty rude. Leaning back on the red couch and drinking a mix of vegetable juice and bugs while everyone was supposed to wait for the Arch to enter.

Possibly this Torin fellow was the real power or part of it on this world. Then again, maybe he had always been a slob. The Minister of Stellar, named Semian, seemed like an oaf. His only real job was appointing and receiving Envoys and overseeing the bureaucracy of their filings and reports. The blank stare of that one would indicate that he was someone else's puppet.

Rarvis could be exactly what they pretended but Malok was doubting that more by the moment. Finally the large double door on the far side of the room opened and two soldiers walked in and took places on either side. The Arch's Private Secretary entered and addressed the room.

“The Arch of Rarvis himself.”

Malok noted that Torin was the last to stand, and he stood up slowly. He still held the drink near his chest. The man was being totally disrespectful for the occasion.

The Arch entered. Malok flinched but caught himself. This Rarvisian was emaciated, his head hung down in front of him as if the cape of office were far heavier than it looked. The others applauded his entrance, except for Torin, and Malok joined them.

“This is the Envoy from Sarto, your highness.” The Private Secretary said, indicating Malok. The old Rarvisians head nodded and his glassy eyes darted around the room as he held out a hand. Malok took his hand and bowed.

“I am called Malok. I have been appointed as the Envoy to your world, your highness.” He said as flowery as he could, noting that Talon had a derisive sneer on his face. No matter how many species he met, that derisive sneer always seemed to be the same as if it was the one constant in the universe.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” The Arch said in a whispery voice. “Let us sit down.”

Malok and the Arch sat on couches on opposite sides of a table but close together. The others sat around their leader, Torin sat on the arm on a chair on the far end.

“You must have come to finalize the agreement between our two worlds.” The Private Secretary said and when Malok nodded his assent, it was whispered into the ear of the Arch. Torin was looking on with the look of a Ren about to feast on a fat field mog. That alone made Malok want to tear up the treaty and go home.

“This treaty obligates both worlds to support one another in cases of attack by the Raxis.” Malok said, “They being the strongest and most malevolent species in the section. The treaty also opens up trade in certain agreed-upon goods and industries between our worlds. Who isn't always seeking new markets?”

“We must include the Minister of Protection and the Minister of the Mercantile in this meeting.” The Arch said and then had a coughing fit. The Private secretary patted his back and then wiped the elderly Arch's mouth with a cloth napkin. None of the others seemed shocked by the convulsion but rather looked to see Malok's reaction. He kept his face impassionate.

“I don't think that is necessary, your highness. The treaty has already been negotiated to the satisfaction of all involved. All that remains is your imprimatur. It's all ceremony and formality.” Torin broke in to add to the conversation, “Just sign it.”

The blue carpet was well worn. The decorations on the walls were in no particular order but their locations made Malok uncomfortable. The fact that he was not allowed to see the city before coming to the palace had been a minor thing, but now he was truly curious as to what was being hidden.

The frail Arch was an obvious figurehead who seemed almost clueless as to what was going on. This Torin person was the one running the show from the safety of his own office.

“Yes, your highness, it only needs to be signed.” Malok said, but then stood up. All eyes were on the Envoy as he crossed the room and removed a big painting from the wall. Nobody voiced an objection. Envoys had a lot of leeway. There were burn marks and projectile holes. He nodded and put the painting back.

“Would it be accurate to suggest that your economy is in shambles? The masses rebellious? That your defense forces that tracked me easily, might not have taken off to meet me as easily? That while your spies seem confident, the world I have been presented with is all a front?” Malok asked, the face of the Personal Secretary, Garja, looked away. The Grandee of the High Assembly glared at him with an iron face.

The Arch and the Minister of Stellar barely seemed to notice that questions had been asked. The other officials mingling in the background just watched.

“True enough.” Torin said.

“I suspected as much.” Malok said, turning towards the Grandee. “I want you to tell me the truth. I see too much front and little else. If you expect Sarto to come to your economic and military aid, we'll have to know how bad it is.”

“Our poor planet is an easy target for Raxis, should they decide to strike. Rarvis would become part of their empire without a doubt.” Torin answered. “It is in the interest of your world to keep that from happening.”

“My world would expect concessions if we are to feed you and park ships here.” Malok informed them, “There is a price for everything.”

Torin put the drink on a table and crossed his arms. “What price?”

“Sarto would allow you to retain your own government, although the figurehead would need replaced with the real local power.” Malok said looking into Torin's eyes. “We would need access to natural resources if we are expected to feed you and provide technical assistance to your farms. We would need to be able to train your soldiers before we would trust them with our advanced weapons. We'll let you keep down the rebellions on your own.”

“Still better than what the Raxis would do to us.” Garja said loud enough to be heard.

“Of course, the Raxis are monsters with starships. We Sartorians deal in reality, and the facts are that we must be able to put up a viable threat or the Raxis will strike. The stronger Sarto is and the more allies we have the more peaceful it is.” he told them. Then he smiled. “This is to the benefit of every one.”

Soon enough he was riding a ground vehicle through the dark streets of the decrepit city towards the executive spaceport. He was mentally formulating his report along the way. One of his most urgent things was to find and execute those spying for Rarvis. They were far too effective to be allowed to delve any deeper.

Too deep and it would cause problems. It would not for these subjugated worlds to learn that Raxis was also their puppet. It was working far too well to be allowed to crumble now.

END

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New Arrivals, scifi adventure, 203 pages, $2.99 (or read free with a Kindle Unlimited subscription)

Second Front: Chapter Eleven - Running Men

Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three  
Chapter Four 
Chapter Five 
Chapter Six 
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight  
Chapter Nine 
Chapter Ten

 

Chapter Eleven

Running Men

The four men ran for the gate. They carried packs, but not very heavy ones. The heaviest things they carried were the 50 caliber guns and the grenade launcher. The suits they wore were more restricting than the weight. They hadn't really noticed before this point, but the suits and life support systems had not been designed for combat.

Lt Max “Action” Jackson first felt something tear in the groin area, the suit loosened up noticeably. Sgt Frank Gore felt something like that under his right arm, his armpit felt aired out. Thankfully the helmets were sealed completely separate from the rest of the suits. The bulky alien armor shell that had been sewed into the suits was being felt.

They also saw presumably confused faces of the aliens looking out windows and doorways at them as they ran past. There were loud noises behind them, enemy soldiers that had entered a bunker for safety during the launch were now coming back out. That put them between the humans and the closing gate.

Lt Kim Lu-Hyun out of habit checked the view from the drone above them. He was the first to notice the approach of one of the large robotic tanks. It was obviously trying to reach the gate before they did.

Sgt Frank Gore yelled a growling noise as he opened up on the stunned aliens with his heavy machine gun, hardly slowing down in the process. The belt-fed gun did some damage before the aliens scattered for cover and began returning fire. Lt Jackson fired off some grenades toward those hiding places.

Then nothing.

Click, click, click... Sgt Gore's gun ran out of ammunition while a cursing Lt Jackson noted that he had also emptied the M-32 launcher. Lt Peter Lowery fired off several 50 caliber rounds from his lighter rifle while the four of them took cover behind a rock wall between what looked like two shops.

“Timing is everything!” A sweaty and worried-looking Lt Jackson joked, digging into his pack for spare grenades. They hadn't been prepared for this. There had been no time, of course, for a proper briefing but they should have sent more ammunition.

“We're not going to make it.” Lowery said, “The gate is closed.”

Then again, it wasn't completely closed. That would help explain why everyone headed into the columns and bunkers at launch time.

“We might be able to squeeze out.” Kim Lu-Hyun told them, “We just need to get out before that robotic tank gets here.”

“No rest for the weary.” Sgt Gore lamented already rising back into a crouch, readying to run again. “This is my last belt of ammo.”

They were less than fifty yards from being outside. The suit-less, armor-less soldiers or reserves hadn't put up much fight but the numbers were still on the home teams side.

The unspoken plan was just to run and shoot and get out before the walking tank arrived. It was slower than they had first thought and the pilot or driver seemed unsure of getting through the shanty-type area. Of course that had been overcome and it was now crushing the huts in the way.

“Go!” Lowery shouted and the four of them took off from behind their protective wall. Jackson and Gore firing in the general area of the enemy before them. Enemy rounds were swooshing past them, sometimes glancing off the alien armor shells they wore.

After the first few seconds Kim Lu-Hyun got his hopes up. To him it looked like they might actually make it out intact. That was when one of the enemy shells smashed into his helmet and threw him off balance. His little HUD screen was gone, the faceplate was cracked like a spiderweb and he could hardly see anything as he climbed back to his feet as more shots seemed to target him, some deflected by the alien armor.

A round tore through his right forearm, he felt something kick him in the ribs behind here the armor protected him. Still he saw the slight opening in the gate and the three other humans in front of him who were almost there.

Gore turned and sprayed rounds at the enemy to Lu-Hyun's left while Jackson threw down the grenade launcher and unslung his own machine gun. The two Americans had stopped and were firing instead of trying to get out as fast as possible. Then he saw the Englishman tearing the armored carapace from the front of his suit.

The opening was too narrow to slide through with the armor. “Aish,” he thought to himself, not another complication. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered there was a nuclear device about to explode in the vicinity. He needed to be outside and away from the gate when that detonated with a wall of rock between them.

Lt Kim Lu-Hyun hit the gate and bounced off. Lowery had shed his armored piece, tearing parts of the suit where it had been sewed on. Then Peter Lowery turned to help the Korean and paused. Lu-Hyun knew that was caused by the surprise Lowery must have had from seeing his condition. After a moments hesitation Lowery worked quickly to tear off the armor from Lu-Hyun's suit.

Somewhere in his mind Kim Lu-Hyun noted that somehow the suits had only been sewed three ayers deep in the five layer suit. The possibility of them needing to be pulled off must have occurred to someone along the line. Or maybe it was coincidence.

Lu-Hyun felt himself pulled and then pushed. He was being pushed sideways through the narrow gap, but it was a tight fit until Lowery put a boot on Lu-Hyun's hip and kicked him through. Kim Lu-Hyun was outside, on the ground staring at the dirt for a long moment before trying to push himself into a sitting position.

Instead of seeing an empty expanse of dirt, rocks and mountains he was dwarfed by the towering rockets arrayed before him. Suddenly he wondered if it was just as dangerous outside than inside, thinking of twenty Saturn rockets launching at the same time. He was just way too close.

He turned back to see Lowery and Sgt Gore pulling Lt Jackson through. Lt Max Jackson was the biggest amongst them and the life support pack, although small, made the difference. He would have to take it off from its mount. They were reasonably sure the air was safe to breathe. It was likely that germs and whatever else were dead on the surface after being frozen while basically exposed to space for so long.

They had also decided not to risk it unless they had to.

Once it was off they had to move away from the gate. They wanted to get as much wall between themselves and the explosion as they could. The compact nuclear device they had brought was comparable to the one used on Nagasaki that pretty much ended the Second World War. In an enclosed space it should kill anything whether by the explosion or radiation. It might be like a microwave oven in there.

…

“Out of time.” James Arlen breathlessly said to himself repeatedly as he ran. Making tracks across the top of the plateau that concealed an alien city, the slightly acrid air. Arlen considered throwing off the suit, but decided it would take too much time. He had to reach the ship. James had to get there before the explosion. The plateau could collapse inward because of the detonation. His hope was that the ship would be pushed off the side of the plateau and the para-glider wing would cushion the impact onto the valley below.

It felt like he was in a frozen desert as he ran. Being able to feel the air on his face and hear the wind with his own ears made this all real. He stopped near a large boulder, as big as a diesel big rig waiting for a trailer, and got his breath. Some little voice in the back of his mind was continuously assuring him that there were no bad germs and he would be okay. Lt Arlen laughed out loud that he hadn't noticed this particular little voice's running commentary in his head before.

The ship was right there. Not even the length of a football field away. Some other part of his mind tried to tell him that this was pointless. That even if the ship was thrown into the air and the para-wing worked, there was still a good chance it'd plummet down with the top of the plateau should it all collapse. He didn't care. That ship was built on Earth and it felt like he was safer there. If he was going to die in the nuclear detonation, let it be in a human-built coffin.

…

Yes, they had known it was a suicide mission when they signed up. Earth was being devastated by aliens and this was a chance to hit back. It was normal that even in the most dire situation humans would cling to a thread that they might be saved, even when surrendering to the end. The afterlife, reincarnation, Valhalla, heaven were all manifestations of this. How many dead heroes, soldiers, cops, firefighters and the like thought they would live through an impossible situation? Would they have rushed in otherwise?

Sgt Frank Gore had gotten out of the underground city, he and the others moved away from it by following the wall of rock that made up the outside of the plateau. Getting away from the blast was the hope of this. When atomic bombs had dropped on Japan at the end of the Second World War, there were people who survived through the protection of much flimsier stuff. Even while people were turned into shadows on the concrete outside, being behind or underneath a thin layer of dirt or wood had saved others.

Now that he had probably escaped death by the nuclear detonation Frank Gore was looking out at a small forest of giant rockets, each as big as the Saturn-V. Each of them full of explosive fuel and he was protected from them by nothing.

“Out of the frying pan...” he told himself. The others were probably having the same thoughts and nobody said anything. The nuclear weapon would explode at any time, assuming the aliens had not taken it apart or rendered it moot somehow.

“The blast doors will keep those from being knocked over, right?” Lt Lowery asked their resident nerd.

Kim Lu-Hyun sort of nodded. “I think so. The radiation should ruin their electronics so they can't be launched.”

“Those rockets are carrying the next wave, we don't even know who or what's in them.” Lt Jackson said, “Could be carrying their best soldiers for all we know. The guards in the city could be their Barney Fife's, while their real terminators are out here with us.”

Kim Lu-Hyun sat down, his back to the plateau wall. “If the city is destroyed they won't have anyone who can pull them back in and get them down. Those final stages might be designed with a pad abort system but the electronics on those are probably fried too. Probably.”

Lt Peter Lowery began looking around for the best way out of the area, should they stay on the low ground or climb up one of the mountains? If there were alien soldiers in those ships and they were able to dismount the rockets, the four of them would not stand much of a chance.

Fighting was out, they had no more ammunition. The “backpack” nuke had been their real weapon, everything else had been a rush because the robot swarm had been closing in on the launchpad. The team of six escaped from that to reach Nemesis, now there were four. Arlen was on the top of the Plateau, but his death was almost certain, Lowery thought.

“I'd like to eat some real food one more time.” Jackson said.

“I didn't get the chance to say bye to my ex-girl. I wanted to rub it in.” Gore told them with a laugh at the end. “I'm not exactly very romantic.”

“If there had been time, I would have visited my parents graves.” Kim Lu-Hyun said, looking at his knees pulled up to his face.

Peter Lowery suddenly realized he did have a regret. “I never went to an amusement park. I would have gone to Blackpool. I heard it was destroyed by a swarm.”

“You came here in the biggest roller coaster ever!” Lt Jackson said, slapping Lowery's shoulder, “After this, no amusement park is going to work.”

To their left a blinding light erupted through the tiny faults in the blast doors, the ground shook enough that all of them sat on the ground. The noise of the blast and the rumbling was deafening. The air pressure changed and everything suddenly felt very warm.

Sgt Gore peeked out to watch the nearest alien rocket gently swaying high above them.

-----------------To Be Continued

 New Arrivals - sci-fi adventure ($2.99 or read it free with a Kindle Unlimited subscription)

Short Story: The Keepers

I'm back! Sorry about that absence, it was totally unintentional. I will continue adding to Second Front ASAP. The next chapter is half-way there. In the meantime here is a short story that seems to be part of another, longer story. Maybe one as long as civilisation itself....

The Keepers

by Floyd Looney

At the end of my long voyage I had reached my destination. The real quest was just getting started. In front of me was an enormous edifice. A building with wings jutting out in star-burst pattern from a central dome. It was probably the largest building left standing after the cataclysm. It had been untouched.

An etched sign against the wall said: Academic Matriculation Center.

I entered the foyer and removed my breathing apparatus and my heavy cloak. I hung these on hooks arrayed against one wall, mine were not the only ones so hung. There were dozens. It might be that some of these cloaks and suits had been hanging here for decades.

After that was finished I approached the broad double-doors. An elderly man with a long white beard in white robes with purple trim was standing there waiting for me. He was at ease and patient as if he had all the time in the world.

I approached him and gave a small bow, he tilted his head forward and closed his head. At his age, I supposed, this was a bow.

“My name is Joseph.” I said, to introduce myself, “I have come a long way to see this.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, but barely moving his head a centimeter or two. Still I felt like he also pitied me, all in just that movement.

“Follow me.” He said as he turned around, the double doors opened wide by themselves, though they looked like ordinary wooden doors on ordinary ancient hinges. I followed him out of the cloak room and into a wide corridor.

I had assumed there would be rooms on either side but this was all open space. Against the walls on their side were bookshelves, filled with books. Invaluable books, a treasure on any world. So many books in one place made me gasp. These shelves were separated by tall white marble columns and divided from me by low white benches that also looked like marble.

“Each section of the bookshelves are divided by subject. This is why they are not all the same size.” The elderly man said without looking back as we walked.

I was wondering why there was so much open space when I saw four younger people and an older person sitting in chairs in the corridor facing the bookshelves. None of them had crossed the benches to get one of the precious tomes though. Instead a holographic image projected above the bench where a scientist was conducting a chemistry experiment.

Keeping knowledge alive was the only purpose of this place. Only the people who really wanted to learn were accepted here. Those who did not want to learn would not stay anyway. There would be no real reason for them to stick around. Well, it was clean and they were fed, this alone brought many to pretend to want to learn. Very few stay long.

Our footsteps echoed in this place to my ears, but I was assured by the documentation that the sound does not carry far at all. The people sitting and learning could not hear me walking by even if I stomped, some of the rumors said. I did not test this theory.

Soon enough we reached the end of this hall. The double-doors opened for the elderly man and I followed into the largest room I had ever seen. It was as large as a stadium. A museum of the human race spread out across it, or more accurately the museum of humanity did.

“Come along, if you want to hear the answer to your question, Joseph.” The old man said. I followed a few steps behind but I marveled at the statues, the art and the ancient machinery that had been kept in good condition. As I watched youngsters, watched over by a woman, started up a steam-driven printing press.

Unfortunately we arrived at the next set of double doors before I could take it all in and they shut behind us. Again I was in a large hall, like a temple, with both walls lined with books. I could see groups of people sitting and watching holographic depictions of history.

“We are biased toward teaching history without bias. We try, although we might err occasionally.” The old man said, an amused lilt to his voice, although I had asked no question. The man seemed to know the reason I had come here, although that should be impossible. Yet, I followed precisely because I thought he knew where I needed to be.

“How did you know..?” I said when he finally stopped and approached one of the benches.

He seemed to grin under his facial here. “It is a question that many have sought the answers to, Joseph, but most find that they wished they hadn't. The ones that stay choose to learn about unrelated subjects, seemingly to make themselves forget. This is futile of course.”

I nodded. “There are ways to erase memories, but they are not delicate nor subtle.”

He waved his hand above the white marble bench and a holographic menu appeared, it waited for someone to give it a command.

“This is the only alcove in all the complex devoted to the topic, Joseph. Do you wonder why something that destroyed human civilization would be given such little space or prominence?” He asked me. Then it occurred to me that we were at the far end of the Hall of History, right up against the wall and a hidden emergency exit. It was one of the smallest bookshelves a well.

I knew the answer. Like many, nay most everyone, I had pushed the facts away. I had wished it away and went on with my life. I had rejected it. It hurt to hear the question, my heart pounded, my stomach lurched and my eyes watered.

“People do not want to know.” I answered with a halting breath. I breathed deep, like one might do after crying. I rub my eyes, making the tears go away.

“Why is that, Joseph?” The friendly, wise old man asked. He was unaffected by this, he had lived through this countless times, he knew what to expect. I felt it, the urge to lash out at him. As if this were fault, as if the feelings and emotions pouring into me...

That was wrong. They were pouring out of me. This was not some external pressure I was feeling, this was all from inside. Tears were flowing unimpeded now. I was looking down at the space between him and me, gasping, lip quivering and wanting to think about anything but this. Like a child outside of the operating room not wanting to know the fate of his mother inside, but knowing already.

We humans already know what we don't want to know. We want it to go away. I wanted it to go away.

“Why, Joseph?” The man asked again, ever impatient and calm.

I wiped my nose and tears. I did not want to look at him. I did not want to see the new images on the screen. I had saw them and rejected them already. They were part of the human DNA now, since the Burgeoning. Since humans had done whatever needed to be done to survive and to flee the awful truth.

“We did it.” I said, “We all did it. Even though I wasn't but a baby, I did it as much as anyone. We did it all through history. Over and over we failed to hold it in check. Over and over we have sought to forget the truth and run away from it and we killed those who knew...”

He was quiet.

“We all did it. Every time civilization collapsed, we rallied just enough to start building again. Then we got to think ourselves better than that. We never were, we never were.” I said, sobbing. I was sitting on the floor now.

“Why Joseph?” he asked, images of atrocities playing out behind him. “But why?”

Even if I admitted it, what would it change? I wouldn't be able to live amongst the new worlds knowing that I was wasn't like everyone else. Why had I come here? Why had I wanted to delve into the collapse of Earth? Why had I wanted to see what had caused the greatest suffering in history?

When I really knew it all along. Buried deep, deep inside.

“We're animals. We're not born innocent. We're never innocent. We are animals, the worst beasts that ever walked the Earth and the hundred worlds. Humans are not intrinsically good. Our default is greed and selfishness. Only with our minds and souls can we hope to control this.” I said, drained of energy I just lay on the floor.

It was cool. Quiet. I wanted to sleep but the nightmares had already arrived.

“2109 A.D.” the old man spoke up, and sounding a little preachy continued, “The human race finally did it. Again. They rejected any and all notions of right and wrong or morality. They embraced every possible evil and carried out these evils with enthusiasm. Humans were their own Gods!, they declared, but no, they were their own devils. The death toll reached more than half the human species within a year, within two years more than eighty-five percent of the human race was dead.”

After a pause he returned to his quiet voice. “The remnant finally started to come to their senses, many still rejected of course. To their end. After seeing what they had done, the remnant closed off their minds and fled to the stars. Today, I wonder, how far away is the next collapse. And the next. For those societies who reject a higher reasoning, a higher morality and even a higher power are more dangerous than any fanatic who went off the rails.”

“But is there a God?” I asked, I begged.

“Humans need God. It is now scientifically proven.” The man answered, a twinkle in his eye. “Whether or not he exists, Joseph, humans need to believe in something more than their own base desires. Otherwise they become animals. Just a simple understanding there are things one must not do to another human being is enough, really. Yet, this is rejected over and over through time.”

I had a lot to process.

He sighed. “Joseph. Humans wish to forget it happened. They always do. Even here, this is the least used portion of the building. In the old days they built new cities and empires atop of the old ones. Today they flee to other worlds. Flee from their own animal nature. Even those who ever think about it will lie to themselves that it can never happen again.”

“I'm not sure.”

He pointed at the holographic screen. I winced. Images of people tearing apart babies and covering themselves in blood during an orgy-rave.

“People become monsters. Evil becomes passé and a higher and worse evil is sought to quell their base desires. People need a reason to be civilized and over time these reasons are removed one by one, in the name of 'freedom' or 'fun' or any number of other things. It will happen. It will happen again and again and we can do nothing but fight it. Fight it like a candle in the night.”

I bury my face in my hands. It's hard to accept. The horrible evidence is everywhere. It is still fresh, even if humanity has declared it to be unthinkable.

“Are you asking me to...” I take a breath “Go to the worlds and spread the gospel of civilization?”

“I am asking, is that what you feel you should do?” he answered, and sat on the bench. Above him a blood-covered woman was cutting off her own arm screaming, “It's my body!”

He was right. “What is your name?” I finally asked.

He smiled and shrugged. “Just call me what every one else does; Dad.”

END