The Cresperian Alliance (21 page)

"GO,” he said urgently in English. “I charge you: Bring back help from Earth."

"We will,” Gordon assured them.

He closed the door of the car, and they were off.

With deft, knowledgeable programming of their route on Gordon's part, they avoided passing through any more cities on their way to the spaceport. It took them an extra half hour longer to arrive than originally anticipated. “Then again,” Mai pointed out, “better a half hour than stuck in some city when it gets obliterated."

As the six extracted themselves from their tube car, they found they were actually some of the first to arrive. Anxious Space Marine attendants and several Crispy teams stood waiting at the portal to the small starcraft hangar, along with a little group of four half converted Crispies. Gordon recognized them.

"Chnilith, what happened to the Preconders?” he demanded urgently.

Chnilith shook his head. “We got caught in a... I think the term is ‘traffic jam?’ In Dndrth,” he finished. “Everyone was trying to flee the city."

"Yes, the same happened to us in Xxtrflm,” Gordon noted. “What happened?"

All four of Chnilith's hands went in the air. “We lost them in the crowds,” he mourned. “We searched and searched and could not find them. Finally we chose to save the research,” he pointed to the case in the hand of one of his companions, “and get out. Now we are here, and our mentors are not,” he anguished. “I fear we shall never see them again."

"Why?” Cherry demanded.

"We were barely out of Dndrth when the Snappers’ green ray obliterated it."

"The ground quake,” Krnlith reminded them.

"Shit,” Mai whispered, paling. “Not Gene and Margie. No, no, no."

A soldier approached them “I hate to interrupt, Dr. Trung, Mr. Stuart , but the time for grieving is later, when we've gotten away. I'm Sergeant Douglas Bain, and I'll be your weapons master and pilot if needed. Let's get aboard our starcraft before the Snappers have the planet encircled."

Another marine approached what had been the Preconders’ group. “I'm Lieutenant Stevie Gann,” she introduced herself, “and I'm assigned to your group. I recommend we also get away from the planet as soon as possible. There are other starhoppers waiting that the Preconders can take if and when they arrive."

The two groups hastened toward the portal into the hangars.

The acceleration into orbit was high; Gordon was at the controls instead of Bain. “I used to play with these things in my younger days,” he explained. “Over the years I helped with their enhancement and upgrades. I know how to use the normal accelerator in conjunction with the unreality drive to make it really move. Hang onto your stomachs, because this is going to be a pretty wild ride. I want to get away from here as fast as I can without being seen, and this is the best way to do it."

Within seconds they were exoatmospheric, and Gordon headed for the nearest moon, which was still on the dark side in its monthly eclipse. The Crispy was intent on getting behind its bulk. But a group of three of the Snapper runabouts was hovering near the moon, apparently standing guard. It was one of the new configurations for their runabouts, and Gordon concluded they must be small, one or two person fighter craft.
Fighters, armored personnel carriers, battleships, and “aircraft” carriers, to draw analogies to Cherry's world's fleets,
he concluded.

Due to his skill with the starhopper, he was on them before they had a chance to react. “See them, Sergeant?!” he called. “You take the outer two, I'll take the middle one."

Although Mai was a decided shade of Crispy green from the way Gordon was handling the ship's drive, Sergeant Bain was in relatively good shape, if a trifle pale around the mouth. “Got ‘em, sir!"

The center fighter craft disappeared in the sights of Gordon's disintegrator cannon, and the other two were gone fractions of a second later. Gordon flew low over the surface of the small moon, using its bulk and rugged terrain as a sensor diversion, praying there were no Snapper emplacements already on its surface.

But it appeared the fighter flight they'd just taken out were the forerunners, and soon the smaller of Cresperia's moons was between them and the Snapper fleet. Gordon programmed the ship to maintain that orientation until they'd reached the next planet, and the little craft zipped away from Cresperia.

Bennett took his remaining forces and the Crispies that had joined them, and led them down into the maintenance tunnels that served the complex and the tube transport. Then they ran until they were several miles away from the outpost, away from any danger of being hit if the outpost were attacked, before stopping.

"All right,” he said. “We're the resistance. We have to hold out until the rest of the outpost members can bring back help. How fast can the little starhoppers go?"

Casey Stuart, one of Gordon's parents, shrugged. “The drive is the same, regardless of the mass of the ship,” he said. “They will go as fast as our exploratory ships. Perhaps faster."

"Okay, so...” Bennett did some mental calculations. “Good. I think we brought enough supplies. We're going to create caches in places underground, away from both the outpost compound and any major activity centers. It should be awhile before they get to the outpost unless they beam it, so we've got time to observe and plan, then spread out. Anybody know what's happening topside?"

"Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Jenson noted, pulling up an image on his screen. “The first of the troop carriers have landed in the countryside, sir. Have a look."

They clustered around the small screen as best they could, those in front taking turns with those in back so everyone could see.

Topside, the small troop carriers were swarming over the sunlit landscape, disgorging thousands of Snappers armed with lasers and green energy beams. Then the carriers became tanks, using their laser cannons to cut apart everything in sight. The beautiful Cresperian landscape was in the midst of a rape.

Heedless of pleading cries and obvious surrender gestures, any Cresperians the Snappers came across were mowed down without mercy. Body parts and internal organs strewed themselves across the once pristine landscape, now blackened and blood splattered. Several of the Crispies who were with Bennett made groaning noises, and Bennett himself turned away, sickened.

"Scorched earth policy,” he murmured. “I've never seen anything like it. We must've gotten the third stringers before. I hope help comes soon, or there won't be anything left."

Planet by planet, asteroid by asteroid, Gordon eased the starhopper, which Mai had dubbed
The Last Resort
, out of the Cresperian solar system, keeping a wary eye out for flanking maneuvers by the Snappers. But the hostile aliens seemed to prefer the blunt, direct approach: even though Gordon also used the cover of the automated shipping traffic, of which the Snappers already knew, they were ignored.

Behind them, however, a couple of silent explosions erupted in the shadow of Cresperia, and the occupants of
The Last Resort
knew some of their companions hadn't made it away before the entire planet had been besieged. Detonations and eruptions began appearing on the nighttime surface of the planet, each one marking the demise of a Cresperian city or town.

As soon as they cleared the cometary cloud, Gordon set a course for Earth and punched the unreality drive to maximum.

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Bang was, several weeks—and missions—after his arrival at the Enclave, officially not only a gunner's mate but a fire control man in the Space Marines. He and Piki were semi-officially a couple, although still not lovers; and Piki had applied to be the Crispy adjunct to Platoon White Horse. This was debated for some time, before word came down that permission had been granted; Sira, as chief geneticist, was considered too important to send into the field on a regular basis. And as Piki had an emotional attachment, not merely to Bangler, but the entire unit, she was considered perfect for the assignment.

Two types of gearing up were in work, however: weapons development and deployment, using a combination of human and Crispy technology in unique and unusual ways; and a wedding. For John Tomlinson and Sira Whitman were about to become husband and wife.

"After all,” Tomlinson had told Bang, “who knows what's going to come down in the next few weeks? Sira and I talked it over and decided we wanted to go ahead and do this. That way, no matter what happens..."

Bang nodded agreement. But he'd been surprised when the couple had asked for Piki and himself in the wedding party.

So within a couple of weeks of the initial deployment of disintegrator pistols and personal quantum shields, Bang found himself standing beside John, both in their mess dress uniforms, gazing down the aisle of the chapel as first Piki, then Sira, approached.

The chapel was full of guests, some in uniform, some in civilian formalwear, but neither man had eyes for any but one woman walking down the aisle, each gazing at a different vision of femininity. Bang had ascertained that with a quick glance at Tomlinson when Sira entered the room. She was in a pale cream gown, her hair crowned by some sort of flowering vine that Bang took to be a variety of honeysuckle, with a bouquet of white roses in her hands. He had just enough grey matter to take that in before he returned his gaze to the woman who preceded the bride.

For Piki was drop dead gorgeous. Clad in the palest turquoise blue gown, her platinum hair in an updo, and a bouquet of tiger lilies in her hands that made her copper eyes glow.
No offense to John,
he decided,
but my girl's got the bride beat all hollow. Not that he'd agree with me, but hey.

Then Piki and Sira were beside the men, and all four turned to face the chaplain. The little ceremony was over quickly, and by the time John and Sira turned to face the chapel full of humans and Crispies, two lines of Space Marines had formed, sabers in hand, tips touching overhead. John and Sira grinned, then proceeded down the gauntlet of swords. As they passed there was a soft swishing as each pair of sabers dropped behind them. Only then did Bang offer his arm to Piki and follow the bridal couple.

The Leversons were the first to greet the newlyweds, of course. A quick but sumptuous cocktail style reception had been arranged, and John and Sira enjoyed sharing their first bites of wedding cake, as well as sharing a sip of champagne from one flute. But not before Bang had to do his bit.

"You guys know I'm not one for speeches,” he said, turning pink. “Especially gushy stuff. But I'm on deck for one now, so I'll do my best. I haven't really known these two that long, but I swear it seems like I've known ‘em all my life. God knows having to trust ‘em for a life or death mission within days of meeting them has a lot to do with that. But I'd do it again, because they're that good—not only individually, but especially together. So here's to togetherness—always.” He raised his champagne glass to the happy couple. Cheers erupted, and everyone joined in the toast.

Soon it was time for the newlyweds to leave. Generals Washington, Shelton, and Salter had wangled a brief, safe, and romantic getaway for the two, and their secure transport awaited. Only one tradition remained.

Sira flung the bouquet directly at Piki, and John shot Sira's garter, rubber band style, right into Bang's chest. Piki grinned nervously, and Bang flushed.

Then they were gone, and it was over.

Bang was put in charge of Unit Hope, given his background and education, while Tomlinson was away on his honeymoon,. Consequently he saw a good bit more of what was being developed than he otherwise might.
Those NASA guys are throwing some good stuff into the mix,
he decided, looking over the latest reports.
They've found a way to triple the... I guess you'd call it strength?... of the quantum shields. That's good. And it's an easy retrofit, too. Ooo. Energy beam weapons. Oh, there's a nasty one, if they can get it working. Couldn't use it in atmosphere, but damn. Don't get in its way. Shit, it's more like a drill than a weapon.

And so it went for a few days. Then the Tomlinsons were back, and Bang debriefed to John.

"Very good, Bang,” John said. “It sounds great. How long until deployment?"

"The shields are already being retrofitted,” Bang informed him, “and the big cannon type energy weapons are being deployed now, both shipboard and in orbital platforms. The platforms can be remote controlled, or they can be set on automatic, locking onto enemy signature and firing."

"Excellent,” John mused. “Infantry weapons?"

"I gathered miniaturization is in work,” Bang shrugged. “It's only a matter of days."

"Even better,” John declared. “I want you—as my main gunny—to—"

"Wait—wha?” Bang blurted, in shock. “Gunny?"

"Yeah, didn't they tell you about the promotion yet? You're Hope's Gunnery Sergeant now, Bang. Reward for rescuing Piki and putting your life between her and those bullets, not to mention the cool way you analyzed and took out the Snapper scout ship. Commendations are on the way too, but the paperwork on those is slower."

Bang ran a hand through his short hair. “Shit."

John laughed. “Anyway, I want you to stay on top of this weapons development. It's your baby, anyway, now. So stay on it and just keep me in the loop."

"Yes, sir."

John shook his head. “When it's just the two of us, it's John,” he murmured. “Now, I'll bet you haven't taken time to go see that orange eyed beauty of yours the whole time I've been gone."

"Well, actually, she made dinner for me night before last. But I have been pretty busy."

"Then go take her on some sort of date now, while you can. The first briefing I got when I returned was about that new clipper ship..."

"The stealth ship?"

"That's the one. It's been out on a few test runs, and two more are nearly ready to join it. So far no sign of Snappers in the solar system, or even the near vicinity, but the mucky-mucks are anxious."

"Any word who the final crew is gonna be?"

John gave an enigmatic smile. “Dunno for sure."

Bang raised an eyebrow. “But you've got a damn good suspicion."