“What’s the problem?” he barked.
“It’s from the engineering room, sir-”
“Just put it on the holo, will you?” he said, slamming down the handset.
The comm-officer clittered at his keyboard. A shocking image flickered into life in front of the Captain’s easy chair. It was the mech lieutenant. Implanted in the steel head-encasement in the midst of a face of waxen flesh, the thing’s optics slid about disconcertingly.
“What is THIS?” demanded the Captain. Thinking that a horror-holo from the ship’s library had somehow been patched into his personal system, he hammered his fist on the control console.
“If this is some cadet’s idea of a joke, I’ll have him doing radiation inspections of the aft exhaust ports until he’s nothing but a mass of tumors,” he vowed.
“We do not require the surrender of your ship,” said the apparition on the holo-plate, “but you will give us four flitters suitable for a combat descent.”
Slowly, the reality of the situation dawned on the Captain. “What are you talking about? Are you one of those mad-dog machines?”
“I am Lieutenant Rem-9. I am assigned to Lucas Droad, Planetary Governor of Garm. My mission is to-”
“I don’t give a frig what your mission is!” shouted the Captain. “What are you doing in my engine room?”
With an air of tried patience, Rem-9 repeated the end of his statement. “My mission is to locate Lucas Droad and defend him from an unspecified emergency situation. You will provide me with four flitters, or we will perforate the stern engine cupola. The resulting lack of lift will cause the Gladius to sink into the atmosphere.”
“You’re mad! The ship would tear apart! It isn’t built for atmospheric pressures. We would all be crushed!”
The mech gave no sign of concern. “We will encapsulate ourselves in packing foam and eject during the reentry. Some of us may survive to achieve our mission.”
The Captain argued further, but the Rem-9 was adamant. He provided video feed proving his claims. High explosives taken from the dead security men were already wired into place. Remote control detonators were ready for use. The heavy blast shielding that surrounded the engine rooms had been lowered and sealed; there was no safe way to get at them in there.
Within minutes stark fear replaced outrage on the Captain’s face. If they wanted to, these crazy machines could bring down his ship. For the first time in many centuries of cyro-sleeping between star-systems, he saw the possible end of his career, even his life.
“I should never have come to this miserable system,” he lamented into his phone. “Give them the flitters.”
As soon as the order had been given, his fears redoubled. He sealed off his quarters and refused entry to everyone, including his Security Chief, although he dearly would have loved to discuss the high explosives with him. Foremost in his thoughts was Mai Lee’s reaction to all this. Vengeful and cruel, she had long arms and her agents were renown for showing up at the crucial moment. He put nothing beyond the reach of that cold witch.
“The Militia reservists are here, sir,” the orderly repeated for the third time.
General Ari Steinbach snorted, then rose up blearily. The coat he had been using as a blanket slipped off his chest and onto the floor of the limo. With a heavy sigh he blinked red-rimmed eyes at the setting sun outside.
After the abortive attack on the spaceport last night, things had reduced to the level of a slow siege. Neither side had made any serious moves toward resolving the issue. Ari had spent much of the night and the early morning calling up the militia commanders he could find, ordering them to mobilize every unit in the province. His alarm had increased steadily as he realized that most of the officers could not be found. In fact, every officer who had attended the Militiaman’s banquet last night was absent.
“Have any scouts returned from the Fort? What’s the situation up there?”
“Still unknown, sir. The earliest scouts we sent out last night disappeared, as you know,” said the lieutenant, absently sipping a cup of steaming hot caf. A light blanket of slushy snow coated the limo. Overhead the skies were still dark and pregnant, although there hadn’t been any snowfall in hours. “The most recent reports indicated that no one can get into the gates. Sniper fire has killed everyone attempting to enter the compound. KXUT claims the Fort, like the spaceport, is in the hands of Lucas Droad the ‘Pirate Governor’.”
“Well, it isn’t,” snapped Ari irritably. He took a proffered cup of hot caf and tossed it down. Donning his coat and stretching he marched for the lifters.
“Major Lee!” he shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to increase his volume. “Come out of there.”
Major Drick Lee slowly opened the pilot’s cupola and eyed the General with distaste. It appeared that he too, had been asleep.
“I need you to call that witch of an Aunt of yours and get some answers.”
Major Lee appeared disinterested. “Why don’t you call her?”
“Because she isn’t responding to my attempts. I know you have special methods.”
Major Lee gave him a dark look. “Are you accusing me of spying, sir?”
“Forget the semantics. We’re in a serious and incomprehensible situation. Who is in control of Fort Zimmerman? What are all these reports of animal attacks and alien invaders? What is going on out in the Slipape counties? Who is fighting whom, Major? I want answers.”
A tall man with severely short red hair and cold blue eyes crunched up through the snow to join them. An antiquated pipe stuck out of his mouth, inside it a stimulant burned, producing a cloud of bluish smoke.
Ari regarded him with little enthusiasm. “Yes?”
“Are we planning to assault the new Governor, sir? Because if we are, I can’t say that my men and I much like the idea.”
“No, we’re planning to take out one terrorist and self-proclaimed dictator,” replied Ari with sudden fury. Why was it that no one showed him the respect his uniform deserved? “And just exactly who are you?”
“Madison, sir. Militia reservist Captain, Company C, Group Five reporting sir,” answered the man in an unhurried fashion. “I’ve just come in from Hofstetten, and I couldn’t help overhearing that you don’t grasp the situation.”
Ari and Drick both looked at him in askance.
“They’re aliens, sirs,” the man said simply. He sucked on his pipe for a moment then relit it before continuing. “Aliens are all over Hofstetten, that’s why we were already mobilizing and why we got here ahead of most of the other units. Killed a lot of good people last night and today, cut off all our communications, too. The nets are down all over the colony.”
“And what do these aliens look like, commander?” asked Drick contemptuously.
“Sort of like fast air-swimmers, mostly, but they can drop snake-like things out of their bodies. There are other kinds, too, but the worst are the dinosaur-types. They run like ostriches and carry weapons like a man.”
Drick laughed.
“I must say that is a rather amazing story,” said Ari. “It seems remarkable that KXUT hasn’t reported any of these sightings, doesn’t it?”
The man pulled out his pipe, examined it closely, then placed it back in his mouth. “Not really. KXUT’s been off the net for hours. All they are playing now is pre-recorded stuff. It’s not even the right stuff, just yesterday’s daytime programming. No news reports, no live stuff at all.” The man turned and crunched back through the snow to his unit.
The officers frowned after him.
“Whatever is happening, we need to get this business with Droad over with so we can go handle it,” said Ari, rubbing his hands together. “Damn, I’m beginning to wish I’d called in sick this week.”
Major Lee nodded in agreement. “I’ll try to contact the senator. She may know something.”
“If she doesn’t, then no one does. I’ll gather up the men. We have an army of militia troops now and the 1st tactical squad is up to full strength, although God only knows where the 2nd squad is. Let’s finish this thing with Droad.”