Gray Panthers: Dixie (12 page)

Gray Panthers headquarters, Arizona

5 November 2128

Abby cursed Dan for the umpteenth time. He didn’t like trying to fill Dan’s shoes. Previously, his main responsibility had been working with the AI Grub, manufacturing and developing weapons and equipment. Now he found himself with the new AI, Hercules, which was Grub’s permanent replacement. Grub’s new responsibilities were taking care of the spaceship it had been built into. Hercules was actually constructed into the Gray Panthers headquarters and had already impressed Abby in the short time it had been up and running.

Hercules was reviewing Dan and Abby’s emails and other forms of correspondence, often replying as their proxy and triaging others as needed.

“Abby, I will need your attention for what was just received.” Hercules stood towering over him in his full seven-foot form, heavily muscled and wearing only a red toga and sandals.

Abby regretted his decision to use Hercules as the persona for the AI. He’d made the decision when he and the engineers were joking about the herculean task ahead of them in developing the new AI.

“What have you got for me?” Abby asked.

“The Gray Panther Academy has made a major discovery that will change many things. The research project Dan assigned them was to analyze all information we had about the Grub coming to Earth. Using the estimated date and time of the Grub’s arrival, the AI Marco Polo from their shuttle has been scanning our solar system and found it!” Hercules announced.

“And what is ‘it’? Dan didn’t have me in the loop on that one. I’ve been doing a couple hundred other things. Just give me the short brief.”

“Marco Polo found the Hades Wormhole. When the Grub was ejected from the wormhole as a result of the matter-antimatter explosion of the Flem ship and the two attacking ships, it created a hole that should not exist. It was discovered by scanning for neutrino emissions. According to the Grub’s logs, a ship can get from Earth’s solar system to League space at high speed in a day.”

“Tell the Academy good job, and advise them that this information is top secret until the end of the war. We’ve had leaks before that caused the invasion of Dixie, so stress the potential loss of life. Throw them a bone. Tell them they can explore the Hades Wormhole after the war. Major grants and all the academic professional acknowledgment they can handle.” Abby thought of all the potential for the hole.

Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie

6 November 2128

“We have received our tasking for the assault this morning.” Lieutenant Wright informed his troops. “We’ll be working in and around a school that has plenty of rooftop, in case the grounds become loaded with wobblers.

“The school has an enclosed schoolyard and athletic fields, and we’ll be clearing those areas for use in staging our shuttles. We will move all civilians into the school, wherever they can be locked up—for their safety and ours. We’ll try to keep the dining area cleared so we can use it to operate out of and perhaps, if we’re lucky, avoid field rations.

Other units will attempt to bring their wobblers to us, and we’ll arrange for their accommodation in the school. Do not get bitten or scratched by the wobblers! That is how the disease is spread. Also, your beamer is part of you, regardless of where you are. There’s still the threat of Red Coats.

Alpha squad will clear the courtyards and all grounds enclosed in the school. Bravo squad will clear and contain the interior of the school. Charlie will stay on the roof to keep oversight of the schoolyards and watch for Red Coats.

Okay. Let’s get it done and we all go home. Keep covered and don’t get bit!” He tried to motivate his troops, but as always, it came out shallow and insincere.

Arizona Space Ship Beater, in FTL space, heading for Earth

6 November 2128

Short Blade was patrolling the corridors of the ship, as had become his habit. He made it a point to check every area at least once every twenty-four hours. Commander Poland was taking his turn at bridge duty, so Short Blade felt more confident about leaving the bridge than when one of the Dart pilot youngsters was on duty. He laughed at the thought of calling the Dart pilots youngsters. They were all older than his seventeen years. His views had been colored by his constant interactions with the two crew chiefs, who had taken him under their wings and treated him as an equal.

Thump, thump, bam-bam-bam!

Short Blade checked the holster on his right hip and the short sword on his left as he went to investigate the sounds coming from the hangar deck.

Looking through the half-open hatchway he could see Captain Young punching and kicking a bag. He was amazed at the captain’s moves and that he wasn’t sick like the others.

“Hello there, Chief Short Blade. Would you like to work out with me?” Young asked between kicks into the hanging bag.

“What are you doing, Captain Young? How can you do that, when all the other humans can barely manage in FTL space?” Short Blade asked, intrigued.

“Well, my little friend, what I am doing is called Kyuki-Do. It’s for little guys like you and me. I rarely get my ass kicked. It also helps you to control your own body. I am managing to keep from getting sick from the FTL.” Young launched himself and spun in the air, kicking the bag then dropping down and giving the bag a dozen quick punches.

Short Blade removed his clothing until he was in just his shorts, and Young guided him through a series of kicks and punches until both were drenched in sweat.

“Ask Beater to assist you when I’m not available. He can help you with correct positions and hits. You also need to concentrate on controlling your mind and body. You’ll be able to use your paws as weapons and be hit without being affected. Use your mind with your muscles. I’m going to hit the showers now and go back into stasis.”

“Why do you come out of stasis to subject yourself to this?”

“I like the solitude when working out. I’d be happy to have you work out with me, because you could benefit from it. I’ll become stronger as you become stronger. When you have the strength that it gives you in body, mind, and spirit, nothing can stop you. More important, you no longer stop yourself.” Young smiled as he turned to leave.

Short Blade was tired and sore, yet he felt different.
This is what another enlisted man does who is short for being a human,
he thought.
He is now a captain. This is part of the road that will lead me to becoming an officer.

New Mississippi, planet Dixie

6 November 2128

Staff Sergeant Coyle was nauseous. He’d been in combat a dozen times before on Earth. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure it out. Fortunately, he had trained with his troops long enough to have confidence in them and how they would do.

The hatchway was open to the flight deck and Coyle was taking in the view of the city. The pilot glanced up at him and said, “There’s the school. It looks like you’re going to get the high ground. Everything within four blocks of the school is single-story residential housing. One minute out.”

The sky was crowded as both armies attacked their parts of the city at the same time. The pilot swore to himself as he banked to miss a couple of shuttles that zoomed by in front of him.

Walking to the back of the shuttle, Coyle was still amazed that there was no sensation of flight. He stood in front of the door as the rest of the squad got ready to exit the shuttle behind him.

The hatch opened onto a long, empty roof. Coyle forced himself not to sound excited as he shouted while on the run, pointing to where he wanted each man from the squad to take position.

When the men were in their positions, they noticed that the men from Bravo Squad in the school grounds had found or been found by the wobblers—even though they were wearing the suits that should have hidden them. It appeared from the roof that the wobblers were smelling or otherwise sensing the troops.

The troops used their beamers as clubs, knocking down the wobblers and retreating into the school, with the wobblers following behind slowly.

Across the schoolyard a window opened and a trooper literally fell out of it. He stood up and closed the window, and a pair of faces pressed up against the glass from inside. The trooper rested against the wall of the school for a moment. Then, looking up to the roof, he gave a thumbs-up and headed back to the entrance of the school. Other troopers soon opened windows and followed suit.

“Looks like daddy came home early from work, and mommy’s special friend is having to leave in a less-than-dignified manner,” Garcia commed to the squad. Everyone started laughing, some almost hysterically. As the tension broke, they all settled down to do their jobs.

Downtown, a squad of Gray Panthers wearing the exact same gear was having different results. The squad had found a warehouse a couple of blocks from the town center and was manually forcing the docile wobblers into it.

“Damn! I thought this was supposed to be some type of horror movie crap. These things may as well be sheep, except for the stench,” one of the soldiers remarked as he gave another shove to the wobbler in front of him to emphasize his statement.

General Black was receiving mixed messages. The US troops were having to fight every wobbler within reach. The GP troops were having a cakewalk.

“Send one of the reserve GP squads in to support the school in the US zone,” he ordered. “It’s going to have the highest concentration of wobblers. Our GPs can show them how to do their jobs. See if they can find out why things are going so differently for the US troops.

Sitting in her squad’s shuttle, Master Sergeant Mildred McGuire, at 108 the oldest in her unit, was watching the camera footage of the other GPs having an easy time of it. She began to relax. Looked like her squad wouldn’t have a job on this particular operation. Then she got her orders.

“Let’s mount up!” she shouted to the others. “Time to save some doggy ass! Why in the hell did we invite them to our party? The doggies are having trouble and need genuine GPs to show them how it’s done. We’re two minutes out from them. Equipment check now, and don’t any of you get bit or you’ll answer to me!” Thoughts of past battles fought their way to the surface as she tried to get control of her nerves, looking completely calm to her troops the entire time.

The shuttle landed in the schoolyard. As they exited, they saw a trooper jump out a window. Wobblers’ arms reached out for him before he could close it.

McGuire walked toward him and the trooper nervously glanced her way, lost in trying to figure out how to close the window, while relieved to be uninjured.

“Hey there, honey. Looks like you’ve made some friends there,” she called out. “I think we should close that window so they don’t catch a cold.” She walked up to the window and was surprised that the wobblers didn’t get excited at her presence.

“Peters, get over here and make yourself useful. I’m going to persuade our wobblers to get away from the window. When they move back, you close the window.” McGuire reversed her beamer and used the shoulder stock to punch the wobblers in the chest. As soon as Peters closed the window, faces pressed against it.

“Honey, are all the wobblers attracted to your squad like that?” McGuire asked the trooper.

His sense of relief at having escaped the wobblers gave way to confusion. This senior NCO interrogating him was old enough to be his great-great-grandmother.

“Ma’am, they look at us like we’re candy, and they have a mighty big sweet tooth,” he answered.

“Honey, your day just got a lot worse than you thought.” McGuire pointed to where his suit leg had come unbloused and blood was visible. She reached into the aid kit on her belt and pulled out a syringe. As the trooper’s squadron mates and McGuire’s troops watched, she pulled open the front of his suit and plunged the syringe into his heart, giving him a half-dose of nanites. The onlookers stood in shock at the drastic action.

“You two—take your friend to your shuttle and make him comfortable. Be sure he’s secured, in case he turns into a wobbler.” The two troopers grabbed their comrade and complied.

“I don’t want to waste the rest of this,” McGuire said, holding up the syringe. Looking at one of the troopers who’d been in the school, she pulled him aside.

“You have any wobblers with a private room, sweetie?” she asked.

The trooper was taken aback at first, but then he understood the question. “There was a wobbler trapped in the office. We just left her there.”

“Okay, sweetie, you lead and we’ll follow.”

The concentrated stench of wobblers took their breath away as McGuire and her squad entered the building. Some of the troopers began to gag, and they fought the urge to vomit.

“Either shit or get off the pot, kids,” McGuire told them. “This smell reminds me of the nursing home the GPs found me in. Okay, sweetie, lead me to the office.”

The wobbler in the office looked like she was about twenty. She was slim and seemed almost dainty in her girlish dress—until she spied one of the US troopers through the window of the office door. Immediately, she started to lather at the mouth, and drool ran down her chin.

“Okay, sweetie. You go down the hall with your friends,” McGuire told the trooper. “I don’t think you’re her type.” As soon as he left, the girl settled down and became dormant, simply swaying left and right from one foot to the other.

“Okay, Tim, you open the door and grab her right arm and side. Billy, you get the left side. I don’t want either of you getting bit, understand?” Both men nodded as they braced to rush the door.

“Go!” The three rushed in together as if they had practiced the maneuver a hundred times. The wobbler looked to both sides, confused as to why she couldn’t move. McGuire tore open the front of her dress and plunged the syringe into the center of her chest.

“Aw, come on, boys. I can’t believe you’re looking at that poor girl’s breasts,” McGuire chastised. “Let’s leave her alone and see what she does.”

The wobbler felt her chest where a single drop of blood trickled down. She then collapsed to the floor in slow motion.