Peace World (7 page)

*     *     *

The lead jet carriers wasted no time.  As soon as the bay doors provided enough clearance, they were out of the mothership and climbing.  As planned, they peeled right, left, and right in a weaving pattern as soon as they exited.  The pilots' and co-pilots' eyes anxiously scanned the skies and the terrain below for targets.

It did not take long.  The skies were filled with Minith carriers headed directly toward them.  The ground, though occupied by some enemy forces, appeared relatively open.  Without exception, the pilots elected to focus on the airborne threats headed their way. 

Within seconds of leaving the ship, missiles were on their way to their targets.

The battle for their lives, and for the freedom of every human on Earth, had begun.

*     *     *

Grant watched the vid feed from the lead pilot on a monitor.  What he saw from the camera showed minimal enemy troops surrounding the mothership.  That view was confirmed by the reports being communicated by the other pilots in the force.  All reported the same thing:  minimal ground forces.  Masses of incoming enemy carriers.

He opened a link to the armored vehicles and initial infantry units that were just beginning to exit the craft.

"All ground forces, proceed north at top speed along the planned route.  Fight when necessary, but remember, we don't need to kill them all—we just need to punch past them.  Speed is what we need here."

*     *     *

From the height and distance from which Rala viewed the battle, the human flying vehicles appeared to be a small flock of angry birds.  Although massively outnumbered by a much larger flock—no, not a flock, but a swarm—they were ingeniously equipped with efficient, lethal stingers.  She grew angry as she watched the toxins spit from those stingers reach out again and again to knock the incoming Minith troop carriers out of the sky.  As each one exploded in the air or crashed to the ground, she couldn't help but think of the lives lost.  She wondered if one of these angry little birds had provided Treel with a similar death.

Suddenly, she no longer wanted any of these humans captured.  She only wanted them eradicated.

*     *     *

Titan exited the ship at a sprint, but quickly fell behind the much-faster Telgorans.  Patahbay and his fellow warriors entered the fight at once and, within minutes, scores of the Minith defenders fell.  The hate amassed by the Telgorans over decades of Minith invasion had obviously not abated, despite the elimination of the giant green aliens from their planet.

That was good, because Titan's hate was still just as strong.  He hurried to catch up and join the Telgorans as they pushed north.

*     *     *

Grant saw the problem at once. 

Although the Minith did not appear to possess jet carriers similar to his own, the number of incoming Minith troop carriers they were facing was too great.  For the moment, his forces enjoyed the advantage on the ground, but the ammunition required by his fighters to keep that advantage was not sustainable for long.  Their basic missile loads had to be nearly depleted already.  That would leave them each with several thousand high-powered ballistic rounds and full charges for their less-effective pulse weapons.  The ballistic munitions could easily knock down the incoming carriers; the pulse weapons, probably not. 

Very soon, the enemy would be able to land their carriers wherever they wished and deploy their foot soldiers at will.  At that point, the battle would shift from one of air superiority to one of ground superiority.  And that was a battle they could not win. 

Grant considered ordering his own troop carriers, still massed inside the mothership, to proceed directly to the governor's residence.  The four hundred infantry might be sufficient to storm the place and accomplish their objective.  But that would abandon his ground troops already engaged to their own fates.  That was not a decision he wanted to make—at least, not until he had no other choice.

For now, he would stick to the plan and hope for the best.

*     *     *

It was now obvious that the humans were headed in the direction of her building.  She doubted that was their final destination.  There was nothing spectacular about it that could interest the humans.  She mulled over the problem and, within seconds, a moment of clarity provided the answer.  They were headed north.  Truk lived to the north.  They were headed for the governor's location.

Now
that
would be interesting.  For a moment, she wondered what, if anything, she should do with the knowledge.  She weighed her options and finally contacted Ghin.

The aide sounded frazzled and tried to put her off, but when she informed him that the humans were visible from her office and appeared to be headed north—toward the governor's residence—his irritation turned to gratitude.  After all, he was located at the residence. 

Despite the glee she would have felt if the humans actually made it that far, contacting the governor's aide was an easy decision to make.  Although no one in the military had
yet
recognized the humans' intentions, it was only a matter of time before their objective became obvious.  It was better that she be credited with providing the information now, before anyone else had a chance.

Despite the fact that it wouldn't change the end result, she was
such
a loyal and obedient supporter of the governor.  She owed him nothing less than her best efforts.

*     *     *

Two jets and their crew were gone.  One accidently crashed into a densely packed formation of Minith carriers, taking out several of the enemy vehicles in the process.  The other had been brought down by a grouping of the enemy when it flew too close to the ground.

The remaining fighters were out of missiles and running low on ammunition.  Within minutes, they would be down to their pulse weapons, which would limit them to action against ground troops.

Grant's ground troops were pushing forward and making good speed.  They had covered almost a third of the distance to the objective and were holding their own against the relatively minimal number of Minith ground troops they encountered.  That would change shortly when the enemy began offloading more and more troops to join the fight.

For now, though, Grant felt things were going as well as they could.  The enemy outside were focused on his air and ground troops.  None of their efforts were focused on the mothership.  He suspected they had no idea that four hundred infantry soldiers were loaded into twenty large carriers waiting to join the battle.

"General Justice, this is Tank Commander One, over."

"This is Justice, Tank Commander One."

"Sir, the enemy seems to be increasing their numbers significantly to the north.  We're encountering serious resistance now.  I'm not sure how long we can keep moving, especially once we hit the streets ahead."

Dammit
. 

The ease with which they had covered the first third of their journey was a gift, but he hoped it was one that would keep being given.  They had covered the relatively open ground of the shipyard.  Next, they would enter the streets of the city and begin the second leg of their journey.

"Understood, Tank Commander One."  Grant stayed on the same channel and reached out to his lead artillery commander.  So far, the need to use that capability had been non-existent.  No longer.

"This is Artillery One, General."

"Hank, I need you to join the fight."

"It's about time, General.  We've been dodging fire long enough.  We'd like to give some back."

"That's what I like to hear.  You probably just heard the transmission from Tank Commander One?"

"Yeah, I heard Chin complaining," the artillery leader joked.  Grant always appreciated whenever men in the heat of battle could find time to laugh.  It was a method some soldiers used to deal with their anxiety, but it was usually a healthy method.  "What would you like us to do, General?"

"I want your teams to maintain a rolling target of fire to the north of the advance.  Clear a path through the Minith streets so our tanks and infantry can pass."

"Clear a path.  Got it, General.  One path coming up."

"Did you copy that, Tank Commander One?"

"Yes sir.  Hank and his artillery folks are finally going to get off their asses and do something."

Grant couldn't help but laugh.  "Exactly, Chin.  Take care, and kick some Minith ass.  Keep me informed.  Out."

Grant checked in on the infantry trailing behind the tanks.  They had taken casualties, but not nearly as many as Grant had expected by this point in the battle.  The Minith lack of air support, artillery, and armor was a blessing.  It appeared as though they were primarily an army of foot soldiers.

"Titan, you there?"

"Just kicking some green alien butt, Little Man."  Titan was his normal, pleasant self, but he sounded a bit winded.

"You sound tired.  Everything okay?"

"You try keeping up with these big-headed maniacs for thirty minutes!  See how well your lungs hold up."

Grant could imagine the Telgorans sprinting tirelessly back and forth across the open battlefield, wreaking havoc on the enemy.  It was a pleasant vision.  It was even better when he envisioned Titan trying to keep up their pace.

"Are you seeing anything unexpected out there?"

"Not really.  We've lost a couple, but we're in good shape for the most part.  We've been following a pair of tanks and have just reached the edge of the shipbuilding facility.  It will be a street battle from here on."

"Keep the plan in mind.  We want to concentrate our focus on four parallel streets.  Make sure the other tanks and the rest of the infantry are ready before your team moves out."

"Easier said than done.  You know how the Family is; when they get going, they don't stop.  But I'll try."

"Do your best.  Once you and the rest of the ground forces enter those streets, we'll be on our way. I can't see waiting any longer."

"I'm surprised you waited this long."

"Me too, my friend.  Me too."

Grant changed channels again and passed the word to the fighter pilots in the air and to the pilots of the twenty carriers waiting in the mothership.  It was almost time for the reserve forces to move out.  When the ground forces entered the streets, the fighters were to concentrate on strafing the streets in front of and behind their forces.  They were also to keep an eye out for and target any enemy forces on top of or inside the buildings they would pass.

 When he closed his channel, Grant looked to Sergeant Conway.  "Anything to add, Sergeant?"

"No, sir.  Sounds like you've got it all under control."

"I wish that was true, Conway.  I really do."

Five minutes later, they were out the bay door, speeding through the air toward the battle line a kilometer to their north.

*     *     *

Although she could no longer see the human forces on the ground—they were now directly beneath her on the street far below—Rala still caught regular glimpses of the angry flying birds.  They had stopped firing at the airborne troop carriers and were now focusing on the individual soldiers as they exited the landing vessels. 

On two separate occasions, the impressive enemy aircraft passed right outside her window.  Each time, she was forced to cover her ears from the pain of sound, but she did not look away.  The craft did not appear so little from a distance of only ten meters, nor did the humans piloting the vessels appear to be sheep.

She was just getting ready to cross to the north side of the building to continue watching the battle on the ground when a movement at the human mothership caught her attention. 

The movement turned out to be twenty-one human aircraft.  They were larger than the angry birds, but not nearly as fast, as loud, or as lethal-looking.  She watched as they split up into four groups and entered the same four streets the human ground forces had entered just ten minutes before.  Two of those streets passed to the immediate east of her building and two to the immediate west.  She was surrounded, but strangely, felt no fear. She knew they weren't coming for her.

As before, she made another call to report the new activity, then jogged to the north side of the building.

When she reached the other side, she evicted the occupant, a low-level administrator assigned to her agency, and looked to the north.

What she saw made her squeal with delight.

The sky was filled with thousands of carriers.  Each one was either depositing, or had already deposited, its load of armed Minith soldiers.

"Oh, those poor sheep." She laughed.

CHAPTER 8

The carrier swept out of the mothership at last, and Grant got his first real view of the battlefield.  The large, open space of the shipyard was littered with the burnt, twisted wreckage of downed alien carriers.  Although he knew what those vehicles carried, he tried not to think of the loss of life each one represented.  That could come after the fight—if he made it that far.  For now, they were just the opponent in a kill-or-be-killed game of life or death.

Scattered among the downed hulks, he saw undamaged craft land and discharge scores of Minith foot soldiers.  Several turned their weapons on the human carriers now flying fifty feet above their heads.  Most were rushing toward the mothership, intent on taking it and any humans left aboard.  They would be disappointed to find her empty of life. 

He bid the ship adieu and wished her well.  She had served humankind well over the past few years and she would be missed.  He then turned his attention to the battle that had already entered the streets ahead.  The four lanes they had selected formed a straight line from the shipyard to the Minith leader's supposed location.  By now, he could have easily been moved from there, but Grant was counting on the Minith's overconfidence to work in his favor.  The Minith held humanity with such disregard, they would likely never consider that Grant's forces could make it that far.