Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Draft
(10-10-08)

Condish Kuimur Henita was the clan group specific of the formal name the Decision Master chose to use with most of his generation down, and except, when the Komien were gathered as one he was most often referred to only by his title, his central and generational name, Kuimur, this was of course allowed to the next rank only. The first name referred to his parental generation, the third to his first order descendants. Thus it was, and had always been, from the time of first awakening, when the line founding Decision Maker, applying new science, halted all normal biological change.

Directed evolution was the planed result with the Decision Master as Director in Chief. His first order descendants making up the council, those whose continued existence he permitted. And he was the ‘Victor’, the only surviving member of his cohort. And one day it would be one of their first order descendants who would take his place. One of the ‘Henita’, though at this time his first offspring was no longer alive. Such being the price one who made a mistake paid for too much proximity to power. It was always a mistake when one did not see in time the fatal strike.

That time for Kuimur was well into the future. As long as he was still unbroken and able to reproduce, making viable offspring and keep the first rank full whenever one of them broke, Condish Kuimur would maintain position.

The Decision Master listened, while one by one the Komien, first order descendants all, made their report:

“The Philosophers Council has finished their deliberations and reported. We have aggregated their findings and each incorporated what we found of value or interest. This is our evaluation.”

“The position of the Jump point is established.”

“ The Others on ‘Chulmur-2-In’ are not as those that were here eons ago. In comparison their power seems limited and it appears we can deal with them. They have shown no interest in the Homeworld and it is a near certainty they have not detected our presence on 2-In.”

“This is the third time they have visited our system and for the first time they leave a part of their whole when the ship departs. We have insufficient data to determine the reason for, or the length of their stay. A full investigation must be made before their removal and elimination. If this small rank is typical of the whole, then the risk is low. Whether it is typical cannot be determined without additional data. In any event we are in position to end the immediate contamination.”

The summation continued, hard details first, options next. Decision Maker Kuimur let them all pray longer than was usual though the first order choice was obvious. He was aware that whatever he did there would be profound effects upon his line, and lasting as long as the Chulmur continued to exist.

“Bring them here for study. Remove all traces on 2-In. Activate our ships in storage and select their compliment, do this and begin training at once.” He finished by saying ritually, “The Komien has Served, the Decision is Final.”

The pre-colonization team of humans left behind on Alkes 3, or Chulmur 2-In as the systems autochthones, those as yet unknown to them called it, was very well pleased with what they had learned and accomplished thus far. Most of the seeded species left by the previous two expeditions were thriving and displacing most of the native lifeforms. This was what had happened on every one of the planets colonized to date. Here the replacement pace was more rapid than any since New Texas.

The area around the ship was a primary seeding point where the changes were most complete. A few native insect like creatures and even fewer small animals feeding on them remained. Larger, and presumably more dangerous types, seen and briefly studied on earlier trips had not been detected. The electronic fences and detectors would remain but operate in full auto-mode. No need to waste the manpower with so much else to complete before the first colony ship arrived.

The lack of all but the most rudimentary defensive measures was troubling. Philomel spent much time speculating on why that would be the case. It showed and obvious difference in cultural outlook but he would take nothing for granted. The important thing was to capture the base and its strange inhabitants intact. To that end he had two hands worth of his cohort under his charge.

This was a major step, and one that should he be successful would raise him above his peers. That alone was enough that he planed as never before. If this action failed Philomel would get no second chance. His choice of career, outside of the political sphere and away from the center of power had seemingly ruled out even a first one.
“We have a number of objectives here, Philomel told his near clan equals. I have no doubt that we will capture the aliens and their base. Our overwhelming superiority in firepower makes that a certainty. What we must do in addition is capture as much of the hardware intact and prevent any signal from being broadcast. I am instructed to capture several live specimens and bring them to Chulmur for study without compromising the earlier parts of the plan. Finally, no evidence of how or why things happened and especially of our own existence must remain for when the next alien ship visits us. This is how we shall proceed . . .”

* * *
The Jump ship and Colony Transport Africa eased away then headed outwards from Terra Major Station, bound for the second terminus out of Earth system. The one that if security had remained tight was unknown to any but a few in the military and even fewer in government. One of the advantages of a top down society was that in the short term a secret usually remained a secret. The five hundred colonists on the Africa were in for a surprise. Instead of building up the established group on Trenarey they would be starting fresh in the Alkes system. They would not be happy. Bhutros M’butu laughed at the thought. “After all happy or not; who could they complain to?” He was sure to take great pleasure when he read the report of their reaction.

Bhutros would not have been enjoying himself nearly as much had he been aware of what had gone on at Alkes-3, less than a week—Earth time—earlier.

“Only a week before the Colony Ship gets here, we’re too short on time to finish everything up without boosting the work crews,” the construction superintendent said to the base security officer.

“You are seriously asking me to release some of my men to the work crew?” Earhardt Kimmel said rather petulantly to his nominal superior.

“Have you seen anything giving the slightest hint there is some danger here??? No? I thought not. Leave everything on automatic. I will expect you to make a notation in the logbook that it was your suggestion. We will be finished with phase 1 by the time the colony ship reaches us.”

“Two more are working on each of their work crews, where did they come from and why now?” Philomel asked his first-order sibling, Remel, after all he was the one assigned as second leader and needed to share the blame should something go wrong.

“My training is in military matters not alien life-forms and as such I am not qualified to comment on such things. As a guess, and nothing more, they are making an attempt to speed up the completion of their construction. That implies a need to do so because of time constraints. And that implies they are expecting reinforcements.”

“Exactly my conclusion, we move the next dark period. I would wish there were more of us but we will do what we must.”

* * *
Remel Henita was as ready as possible, given the position he was in. It was far more difficult from a tactical standpoint than Philomel made it seem strategically. The newly activated Clan Ship Ki-Tigan that carried his team from Chulmur had enough weaponry to devastate a continent. The value of a devastated continent was problematical at best. It also brought with it the eight mechanicals that formed the core of his attack group.

Collectively the natives of Chulmur were called Relations the word ‘Rel’ was used when speaking about a nonspecific singular relation. Each of the mechanicals, small tracked vehicles, was operated by an individual rel riding in a pod-like compartment between the two ten foot long drive units. The machines were similar in many ways to the larger of the bladed dirt movers the aliens were using to clear and level areas around their camp.

The trackpods were optimized for lower temperatures than here on In-2. They would function well enough, but endurance was going to suffer due to overheating issues. This meant speed was important. That wasn’t the largest portion of Remel’s problem, speed was always important. His instructions required the base be captured intact. That was a potential deal breaker, and was going to depend more on what the aliens did than on what he could control directly. If they put up a fight Remel would not hesitate to respond with extreme force, instructions to the contrary be damned!

The Tigan was capable of landing but would light up any kind of detection gear from the time it first hit atmosphere. Three small auxiliary craft landed eighteen additional rel and their equipment shortly after local sundown, landing at the same spot where Philomel originally set down. No detection—the first obstacle surmounted.

“Suit up and outside!” Remel wanted everything outside of the landers central core in the open and getting up to the exterior temperature. That went for the e-suits on the ten wearing them as well. If something was going to fail due to thermal shock he wanted that to happen before going into motion.

The sky was now dark, thin streaky water based clouds cutting the overhead into sections. A glow on the horizon above the field where the aliens were still working marked the only area of the attack that Remel would be unable to direct personally.

Most everyone at the base was sleeping, the constant work was taking a toll. Kimmel sat rocking slowly from side to side while monitoring his displays. He spent most of his time watching the caterpillars expanding the perimeter of the cleared area; they were done leveling the last dome construction site. A scoop was busy trenching runs for underground cables and plumbing. Superintendent Vaswan Rastinsjani was going to get his wish. He was a bullheaded and a bastard, but effective for all of that. They planned to start erecting the last barracks in the morning.

Kimmel noticed a blinking yellow light on his sensor board and saw an error message scroll by at the bottom of the alarm display. He touched the screen shutting it off; if he ignored it the station alarm would sound in another ten seconds.

He had lost one of the motion detectors on the east side of the camp, unusual but not unheard of. And of course they only failed at night. Should he wake someone one to go and fix it? No, let em rest, it would only take a moment, even he could take caution too far. He gave a last look, and seeing nothing else amiss went to the storeroom for a replacement. Checking the board again on his way to the lock, he found no change.

Kimmel set down the sensor package for a moment after closing the first door behind him and slung a power rifle over his shoulder. The habit was so ingrained it was automatic. He spoke into the exit recorder stating his name and destination, “Earhardt Kimmel, out to replace sensor no seventy-six, expected return fifteen minutes from now.” He could signal back to the comp a delay but if he did nothing and failed to reenter the building the missing person alarm would sound. Everyone heard that alarm far too often during their first few days on planet. It brought an instant response.

Agramel Sotor was in charge of the four trackpods assigned to first blockade, then capture if possible, the sapients working under lights on their construction project. Remel Henita, the other four tracks, and all of the unmounted rel would capture the aliens’ main compound.

Agramel’s first job was to remove one of the pole mounted sensors blocking his tracks from getting inside the base perimeter unobserved and cutting the road between the compound and work area. He must be in place before the main attack launched.

Checking the crossbars centered on the sensor and verifying the laser pulse was set for a portion of the spectrum that would not excite the atmospheric gases in between is track and the sensor. Sending a signal first alerting Remel and relaying the view he initiated the burst. The targeted sensor went dead. Tense seconds passed, then relief as no action seemed to be taking place in response. He led his other three pods at a moderate crawl towards the no longer functioning device, and was in position half a span later.

The first step of the plan completed, Remel looked once more at the view beamed down from the Ki-Tigan watch-sat high overhead. The ship herself was just below the sensor horizon ready to put a rapid end to any resistance if it looked like a signal might be sent with the hope of it being heard later. Should the Tigan get involved the rapid end of the signal transmission would mean a rapid end to Remel and the rest of the rel with him, thus making the antenna tower and dishes on the main building the first priority of his own trackpods.

What was this! The overhead from the watch-sat showed a lone alien leaving the central structure and heading towards the sensor Agramel had just destroyed. Agramel was not quite in position but a trace of the two-hundred lengths between the alien and the inoperative device indicated at his present speed Agramel would be in position before the alien could get into line of sight contact.

Electing to remain silent, not risking a warning that might be detected now that it would be beamed inwards, Remel monitored the situation and waited. Agramel was in place well before the alien reached the sensor pole. When he did the destruction would be obvious and an alarm almost certainly given. Remel gave orders to take down the antennas and dishes and clearly saw their destruction. No attempt was made to hide these beams. At once he ordered the attack group forward, passing word to Agramel at the same time. In the heat of the moment the lone alien moving towards the sensor pole was forgotten.

Kimmel was thirty yards from the sensor pole, his gaze looking upward towards the unit and just starting to feel something was wrong. How could a sensor fail destructively? Pointing in the wrong direction he still saw reflected light and the shadows caused by the trackpods energy beams. He spun around and saw lines of ionization fading.

What the hell was that! Obviously some kind of an attack. He thought to broadcast an alarm and reconsidered. It was too late for anything like that. Best look after himself. Could some rebel group from inside the government back on Earth be responsible for whatever was going on? That made little sense. His choices were to go inwards or put some distance between himself and whatever was happening in camp. He chose outwards and broke into a run, all the while one-half his attention on views the still mostly working sensors continued to capture and relay on low power scattered frequency broadband

* * *
Ki-Tigan!! That was the shrill call to battle. And the four trackpods started forwards. Additional lights turned on bathing the camp area to near daylight levels. The envirosuit visors darkened while the pod’s guns automatically shout out the fixtures. A horn started up in a frequency range at the low end of what the Relations could hear without tone shifting.

While the buildings were being erected Philomel noted the construction details. Light and flimsy, he could see no problem with Agramel driving right through an exterior wall in order to gain entrance. The doorway and passage within were of made from stronger materials. They pressed forwards.

Ellis, “Big Man”, Edgerton woke from a sound sleep and tumbled from bed a slug gun in hand. Reflexes and proximity, he slept with the thing under his pillow. He was out of his cube and racing for the front room before the alarm reached full volume. Earhardt Kimmel was nowhere to be seen. Edgerton stared at the outside displays at a type of vehicle he had never seen, only imagined. Most thought he was all muscle and little sense. That was a major, and most important part of his cover.

The auto-fire switch was dark on the weapons console, outlined but unlit. Transferring his slug gun to his left hand, he flipped open the cover, pressed the pad, and after his index print was recognized, the guns self check began. Ten seconds for Edgerton to study the view screen and find a target.

Something was wrong with the display system beyond the lights being shot out taking many of the sensor stations with them. The suited men racing on foot toward the building mounted pickups kept up with the tracked weapons platforms. The speed required for that maneuver was such that would be impossible without some kind of exoskeleton. None was visible externally and if worn inside the suit the energy use should be detectable. The suits were electromagnetically neutral.

The lead trackpod suddenly veered from a direct approach and went skidding towards a corner of the building, the suited figures keeping pace. They would be inside the no fire zone of the automatics before they finished powering up. Men were starting to appear, rushing into the entrance room dominated by the security stations.

“What’s going on Big Man? This ain’t no time for a drill.”

“This ain’t no drill. Someone has shot out the lights and most of the outside sensors. We are under attack by at least a dozen men. Grab your rifles,” Edgerton said with another look at the screen, “I expect them to try and break inside through the wall at the gym corner near the end of ‘C’ corridor.”

“Where’s Kimmel?”

“Hell if I know, he doesn’t show up on the locater. No time for that now. Get yourselves armed and cover the gym. I’ll send a team outside when I get a chance.”

Just then the alarm took on a different tone as one sound pattern piled atop another. The barracks wall had been breeched. Jumping from the security desk, power gun in hand, Ellis sprinted down C corridor towards the little used exercise area.

No defensive fire at all to this point. When Agramel crashed through the wall just inside the corner beam, he had planed on making a diagonal exit punching out the adjacent wall in the process. Instead he came to a halt scanning the large interior space. Remel and eight more rel were right behind him. They headed towards what was obviously a door.

Without checking on the opening hardware, two of them, at full speed, hit it simultaneously. Their suits taking up most of the shock; the light weight panels burst open and the two lead rel tumbled to the floor, Remel and the others leaping over them and continuing down the corridor.

Up ahead, at the hallways end, Remel spied one of the buildings owners dropping to a crouch. Remel blasted forwards. So fast, he seemed a blur as Big Jim squeezed the trigger. The plasma bolt struck the suited figure high on the chest seemingly doing no damage. He should have upped the power setting and not worried about damage inside the barracks.

Remel felt a shock and momentary warming. He ordered no return fire and continued sprinting the final spans separating him from the alien figure.

“Fast, damn they were fast. Impossibly so. Two seconds for the gun to reset wasn’t enough and the stocky figure was directly in front of him. Edgerton tried to sweep his rifle at the invaders feet, a totally useless gesture as whatever it was just stepped over the moving barrel and fell on top of him. In a grip of immensely powerful arms Ellis was helpless. He jerked on the trigger of the rifle that he had managed to keep hold of, and another plasma bolt, without aim went streaking halfway down the corridor blasting a hole in the ceiling. A second invader ripped it from his grasp.

The light was dim and the invaders visor very dark, but face-to-face Ellis was able to make out the visage inside the helmet. A creature from a nightmare! Ellis shouted out Aliens, they are not human! He was hoping someone might hear, not having the time or ability to do anything else.

As he started to yell again the creature released him, springing backwards while one of the others tossed an open weave net that covered him from head to toe and then effortlessly rolled him over. In less time then it takes to tell it the net tightened up and he was locked immovably in position. The creatures broke into speed mode again and continued down the hall.

The door at the end was open. Remel and the six with him were into the entrance room now. The aliens in the room held weapons like the one they had already encountered but were not firing. It was most likely from fear of hitting one of their own. Nets began flying and at least here, in this room, it was soon over.

Remel gave orders to search the rest of the building, then switched his attention to the com net and a check on the action at the construction site located beyond the camp area.

* * *
Agramel Sotor trailed the running form of the solitary scout assigned to his group as part of the plan, the other three trackpods strung out in line behind him. He sent a command urging greater speed to the straggler in pod 6 at the end of the line. The runner started pulling ahead.

Agramel was one of the radicals who advocated new equipment designed to maximize more than firepower but speed as well. On this well maintained path leading to the area where the aliens were still working, the planets lighter gravity aided muscles evolved for Chulmur. Any of the rel on foot could now easily out pace him from his location inside the weapons platform. The gravity difference didn’t help the top speed of a trackpod which was limited by being geared for conditions on Chulmur.

At maximum revolution, the motor temperature indicator was skyrocketing upwards. Agramel disabled the safety circuit. Now was hardly the time worry about the equipments life cycle. Ten more breaths should have him cresting the small rise and placing the alien under his guns. His scout was already at the top of the slope.

The sound of the camp alarm rasped painfully as he changed the view from overhead to the scout’s recorder. Agramel ordered the two rearmost vehicles to stop and take a defensive posture, ready to assist if called upon but watching for attack from the rear. Remel was already inside of the alien’s headquarters building. Still it was not the time to take unnecessary chances by deviating from plan.

The scout’s data-view showed that two of the three large dirt movers working the area were just on the other side of the rise and a little north of the road. The other was some 500 spans straight-away east. Agramel’s EME receiver picked up a modulated carrier coming from one of the close in machines. Unable to understand the code there was no surprise when all three turned and started for the road. They were going to try and reach their main encampment.

Lead blade on the night shift, Hasheem Halimeda, though farthest away from the barracks compound heard the alarm at the same time as the others. It sounded through the speaker in his caterpillar’s cab. “What kind of nonsense was this?” After a second or two of annoyance, training took over. He signaled to the other cats on the work frequency, “Head for home and don’t spare the horses!” Locking one track, he pivoted till facing the right direction then unclutched, reengaged the drive, and maxed the throttle.

“Who was that suited figure standing where the road began dipping down to their work area?” Hasheem was still a hundred and fifty yards away but something was wrong here. The suit the wrong color, it must be the artificial light. Moments later two of strangest looking pieces of tracked construction equipment, if that’s what they were, topped the rise.

A raised oval cabin suspended between two short track segments—and could that be a gun barrel sticking from in front? His question was answered in a blinding flash as both pods rotated and twin beams of plasma lanced outward.

The duplicate fire control systems automatically aimed to their target’s center of mass. Striking square upon the hardened blade, raised above ground level in front, sparks and molten metal flew. But the vehicles didn’t stop. They just continued their advance. It took three more hits on each to burn through the blades and then bite into the engine compartment behind. That did the trick, bringing the cats to a rest, the closest a few dozen yards from Agramel’s trackpod. Far too close for comfort. Each of those monsters out-massed a trackpod by a factor of thirty and could squash them like vermin, given the chance.

This was something unforeseen yet obvious in retrospect. Materials designed for rugged use at temperatures much greater than that on Chulmur must have higher binding energies.

Trying unsuccessfully to reach Kimmel, or anyone else at the compound, Hasheem stared in horror as the weapons platforms fired on the other two cats. His turn now. The pods were pivoting and their guns turning in his direction. He was still a hundred yards from where they stood and was close to getting up a full head of steam. He didn’t know how fast they were, whether he could outrun them or not, but one thing was certain, he couldn’t outrun a plasma beam! He did the only thing he could think of, lowered his blade and kept moving forward.

The sixteen-foot long curved metal scoop dug in under the smooth, level, surface. His tracks started to spin then adjusted to the stain as weight was transferred backwards. He as traveling at near 20 mph, with a mound of dirt in front when the trackpods opened fire.

More rapidly than the two plasma guns acting in unison could blow away the shielding mound, Hasheem’s speed and the action of the cat’s blade replaced the loss. As more of the underlying soil was picked up in front the extra streamed evenly off from both sides. The blade making parallel mounds guard his flanks. Dust thrown into the air blinded him, but it also hid the small section of the cat exposed above the moving berm.

Exterior vision denied him, Hasheem steered unerringly, guided by his plat map overlay on the cat’s inertial display straight towards the two machines standing between him and the main camp buildings.

Agramel wasted precious seconds firing at the moving wall of loose packed soil. He just managed to set loose one of his four general-purpose missiles armed with a high-powered explosive warhead before slewing the pod and beating a hasty retreat. He would try and loop around the side and come up on the thing from the back.

Jormel Sotor, Agramel’s ‘clanling’ and 2nd order sibling, elected to stand his ground and continued firing as he watched the missile arch over top the onrushing dozer. The expected explosion never came. The range was too short for the device to arm itself. It continued onwards. Three counts later Jormel met his end, tumbling upside down, crushed and broken by the blade of the monster machine.

Hasheem didn’t feel anything different when he hit the additional obstruction. He only heard a small change in the overall sound penetrating his cabin as bits of the broken trackpod scrapped and pushed sideways down the length of the blade while he continued down the road.

This was going badly, Agramel keyed open a link to Philomel who remained at his command station in the Ki-Tigan’s lander, now over the horizon and rapidly approaching the scene of battle. Much as he tried, Agramel could not keep up with the alien machine, nor could his sensors pierce the billowing cloud of dust and debris its passage enabled. Speaking rapidly he asked for assistance.

Philomel directed the lander to open fire. A string of four air to ground missiles streaked out a count apart, alternating from either side of the lander. Guided by the small ship’s weapons officer they came almost straight down, detonating in sequence. So much for the alien machine. It was unfortunate the two trackpods protecting the road were caught in the multiple blasts and general destruction.

The overall leader then watched Remel complete his successful capture of the alien station and was pleased with the number of prisoners taken. There was a lot of work yet to do, but so far his plan was working well enough. The first thing he needed to make happen was to transport the prisoners up to the Ki-Tigan, and into the specially prepared hold, after that he could get the alien base cleaned up for the arrival of their next ship. As he touched down a second lander, the one that would take the prisoners back, was already on its way bringing the examination team and deconstruction crew.

“I’m in charge now,” Big Man Edgerton said to Vaswan Rastinsjani. “You got nothing to say unless I tell you so. Understand?”

The older man started to tremble with rage, face turning red, and blurted out, “When they learn about this on Earth why—”

Edgerton swung his arm swatting the one time superintendent like a fly. Rastinsjani dropped to the deck. Big Man turned to face the other fourteen captives. “Anyone else got a complaint?”

“Hey Big Man, you got some kind of idea of what’s going on here I’m with you, that piece of shit sure don’t.”

“Ok, I hear it from Doyle, anyone else?” One by one they all nodded or mumbled agreement to Big Man’s self imposed promotion, all but Rastinsjani, who only glared. “First thing is we gotta cooperate, learn their language, how to talk with them. They got our food they got our water, they control the air we breath. And in case any of you ain’t figured it out yet, this is the only part of their ship where we wouldn’t freeze stiff in a minute. We gotta find out what they want and what we can do to help them get it. Else we’re dead already and nobody’s told us yet.”

“Do you think they can understand what we are saying now Big Man?” Doyle asked the question. He was aiming for a spot high up on the pecking order of their little group Edgerton thought. Well, more power to him. He would need any help he could get. Doyle was raw but he wasn’t stupid.

“I don’t know if they understand us now, the way they act I kinda doubt it. But you can bet everything we say in here is being recorded and they will understand it later. So watch your tongues. Let me do the talking next time one of them comes in. We wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think they could use us or want something we know, so we gotta be ready to bargain.”

To Be Continued.

Page Author | Wes November 9th, 2008