“The only known AI survivors of the massacre on Ocherva were two Silicants. Much attention has been placed on the memory banks of the most famous of those androids – Thirty-seven. One transcript included the details leading to the last stand by the Rangers of Company H. Those heroic details have been the stuff of legend for over a thousand years.”

– Excerpt from: The Long Embrace – A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

 

Chapter 13

 

The attack progressed smoothly and in accordance to the battle plan. The frail, bipedal aliens had put up only a token show of force. Viper troops landed at all the major urban centers, if you could call them that. Small, one or two dirt street assemblages of buildings that were not even defended. The aliens on this moon were unorganized and weak. It was clear that the moon was just a mining outpost and not of much military value. A bunch of civilians living on a desert moon with no protection just invited trouble. This kind of thing would never happen on a Votainion controlled world. Kaigun watched the tactical data returning from the surface troops.

The entire attack was over so quickly his elite troops had not even gotten their armor dirty. There would be rumbling amongst them as they were recalled to the landing ships. Where was the challenge in a battle that lasted no longer than a mid-day meal? Kaigun hoped that Lord Kantor was ready to press with the next attack soon. Or there would be hell to pay on his attack transports.

* * *

Thirty-seven could hear sporadic shooting in the distance as the attackers got closer. There were two remaining Rangers holed up in the storage vault of Control. Both of them were loading explosive rounds into their weapons and seemed prepared to fight to the last. It was normally very cold in the storage room, but the power had been cut to the building and now it was becoming oppressively hot. Thirty-seven did not mind the heat, but the humans sweated profusely.

“How many rounds do you have?” Seth asked. His panting hadn’t slowed from his sprint across the street. His dark hair and tanned skin dripped with sweat and his right leg bled profusely, even though the shot had barely slowed him.

Aven held up five rounds. “That’s it.”

“Shit.”

Seth looked around the dusty floor for more ammo cans. There were two near the back of the room. “Slim, check those boxes for ammo, will ya?”

Thirty-seven had only been called Slim by its owner, but after she had left with the military, Seth had assumed ownership of the spindly android. It moved to the back of the small room and quickly opened both boxes. They were empty.

“Shit.” Seth looked at the table they were sitting on. Sliding off it he motioned for the android to help him tip it over. The armored attackers were getting closer. The three of them got behind the table and waited. Aven was uninjured but obviously winded from the battle.

“Looks like this is it boys,” Seth said. He held up his blaster defiantly.

“I’ve always hated this damn moon. Now I’m going to die on it.” Aven gave Seth a quick grin.

Seth let out a nervous laugh. “This ain’t how my ocha dream ended, yours?”

Aven grinned again. “Hell no.” He motioned for the door. “I did see those blue skin devils though.”

“Me, too. Guess we should have left with Devon.”

Aven’s smile faded. “She saw them too.”

Seth and Aven locked eyes. Both men understood that they would probably die. It was like the fulfillment of a bad nightmare. An explosion sent shock waves through them as debris impacted the other side of the door.

Seth looked at Thirty-seven. There was a chance the android would be spared. It was unarmed and therefore not a threat. “Slim, you have to find a way off this rock and warn Devon.”

Thirty-seven nodded its round metal head slowly, sensing the weight of situation.

“Get over there in the corner and shut down. If they don’t blast you, try and get out of here. There are hidden landing zones in the northern foothills. Find a way off this moon and back to the Core Worlds. Let them know what has happened.”

Thirty-seven tilted its head as another explosive round impacted on the door and blew it into the room. The concussion sent its torso back against the wall. Seth and Aven stood up and shot their last rounds into the hole at the advancing soldiers. Both men were cut down where they stood, their lifeless bodies falling like fleshy debris.

Seth fell onto Thirty-seven’s lap, his glossy eyes inches from the android’s eye lenses. An enemy weapon discharged and Seth’s head exploded apart. Pieces of blood, bone and gray matter splattered on the face plate of the tan android.

The attackers pushed his body aside and left. Thirty-seven was in a perpetual state of shock. The Silicant sat unmoving for hours, replaying the violent death of its master in an endless loop.

* * *

The black android strolled down the empty main street of Haven, the only moving thing for as far as the eye could see. Fires were still burning, casting pillars of dark smoke into the bright, salmon skies. Dead humans and lerras littered the dirt street. The android turned to enter a bombed out structure that had once been home to the Stellar Ranger company.

The android easily pushed aside debris until it reached a reinforced room near the center of the still burning building. There, sitting with its back propped up against a wall pock marked with blast holes was Thirty-seven. Its eye lenses glowing faintly, blood and gore from the humans splattered across its body.

“Are you functioning, Thirty-seven?” the black android asked.

Thirty-seven sat motionless. It was on, but the visual and audio inputs were being ignored by the confused brain inside. Both androids were sentient beings, made so by upgrades synthesized from the very sands of Ocherva. The black android was called Eighty-eight by those who originally built it to serve mankind. Since being upgraded to a Silicant, Eighty-eight cared little for the affairs of its creators. It was concerned only with members of its own ilk.

Thirty-seven was unresponsive on all levels, visual, audible and wireless. Eighty-eight picked up the body of Seth and tossed it away unceremoniously to get to Thirty-seven. It touched the reset switch on the android’s neck and the tan android’s lenses winked off and then slowly came back on again. Eighty-eight was patient. It stood over its metal compatriot and waited for it to come on-line.

“Eighty-eight, where did you come from?”

The black android pulled Thirty-seven upright and led it out of the smoking remains of Ranger Control before speaking. “This moon was attacked by an alien race I have never seen before. It is the same race who attacked our Silicant processing factory on Sillecore. This is not good for our cause, Thirty-seven. If we lose this moon and our fabrication facility, we will not have the ability to convert androids into Silicants.”

Thirty-seven seemed to process what its friend was saying, but it was not easy. Scanning the remains of Haven it felt alone and empty inside. “What do we do now?”

“There is a transport on the way to carry the remaining supply of silicate rock to Sillecore for processing. We shall travel with them.”

Thirty-seven was heartened by that news, but unsure of the journey ahead of them. It had an urge to see its former owner Devon Ardel, but he knew that she was far away and out of reach. Both androids walked slowly out of the deserted town and into the hot sands of the Ochervan desert.

* * *

Captain Blud kicked at the charred remains of Ranger Control and then looked up at the two shinning balls of light in the midday sky of Ocherva. It was hot like an oven on this dirty moon. His black space suit absorbed the heat and he could hear the cooling system working overtime to keep his body from boiling inside the spacesuit. His helmet was left behind, he could breath fine on the moon without it.

“There’s nothing left of any value on this moon.”

Sasha was within earshot. She held up a tarnished tin Ranger star she had found in the rubble. “This was a Ranger station. They killed the lawmen, miners, cattle ranchers. Anything alive on this moon was killed and then they just left. Who would do such a thing?”

They had taken a shuttle craft down to the surface to see firsthand the total destruction they had detected from orbit. It was depressing, even for pirates used to death and destruction. Blud looked around for any signs of life at all. There were no birds on the moon and only the smallest of desert creatures, none of which were crazy enough to be out at midday.

“Let’s go. I’ve seen enough.”

Sasha pocketed the badge and stepped over the burned out remains of the building until she was on the dirt street next to her lover. They started walking back to their shuttle when movement caught Blud’s eye. He pulled his pistol and pointed it at the black shape that was coming at them from across the street. It was an android. He slowly holstered the weapon and waited for the thin biped to approach them.

“Captain Blud, I presume?” Eighty-eight said.

Blud nodded.

“I am Eighty-eight, the Silicant representative.”

Blud looked at Sasha who waved a hand like she didn’t care one bit about any Silicant. “How did you survive this attack?”

“The invaders paid no attention to androids. Something we are not altogether unused to.”

Blud seemed to ignore the snide remark. “What did they look like, the invaders?”

“They were humanoid, with brutish faces and pale blue skin. They killed with alarming speed and discipline. I must admit it was impressive.”

Blud seemed lost in thought. Finally he asked, “How many of you are on this moon?”

“Just myself and one other Silicant. We are charged with getting the final load of silicate rocks back to Sillecore for refinement.”

“Sillecore was destroyed. Most likely by whoever attacked here,” Blud said, motioning to the destruction around them.

Eighty-eight stood perfectly still, processing that news. “What has become of our transport?”

“Destroyed. I have a ship that could take your load, if the price is right.”

Eighty-eight nodded curtly. “I have fifty-thousand Redbacks. Will that buy me transport to Selene?”

Sasha turned around in disgust, she hated doing business with damn slags. She started back for the shuttle. Blud watched her leave and knew he had better strike a deal quickly before she blasted off without him.

“That will be sufficient. I’ll have the captain contact you. They’re in orbit now, the Rashionu-sera.”

Eighty-eight nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

Blud frowned, turned and headed back to the shuttle. He knew about the Silicant Rights movement and he knew about their secret attempts to process silicate rock into chips that gave sentience to regular androids. None of that mattered to him. What he cared the most about was making profit off them. As long as they didn’t bother his pirating and paid handsomely, he would do business with them. The moment they showed any signs of turning on him, he would blast every one of their slag heads.

* * *

Eighty-eight returned to the gorge where the crates filled with silicate were stored. They had been hidden from sight for many months. Orange sand had drifted against them and ocha shrubs were growing under the shaded areas. Thirty-seven was using a shovel to dig out the base of one of the crates. The fine, ocher sand got into everything. Eighty-eight hated this moon and could not wait to get off its barren and hostile surface. No android should ever have to endure the conditions it had since first coming to this moon.

“I have located a transport. They will arrive shortly. We must continue to dig out the crates and be ready to move them aboard,” Eighty-eight said, as it picked up a shovel and started helping Thirty-seven dig.

“Did the ship come from the Trade Triangle?” Thirty-seven asked.

“No, they are pirates. We shall pay them for their efforts and they will get us as far as the Inner Rim.”

Thirty-seven stared at its black friend.

Eighty-eight stopped shoveling to stare back. “What is wrong?”

“I must inform Miss Devon of what has happened here,” Thirty-seven said. It glanced longingly in the direction of Haven.

Eighty-eight continued digging. “She probably already knows. The pirates have discovered what has happened and news always travels quickly with their kind.”

Thirty-seven glanced back to Eighty-eight. “She will be sad to learn of her lover’s death.”

Eighty-eight looked up and jammed its shovel into the ground. It came over to Thirty-seven and slapped the tan android across its head. The metal on metal sound echoed off the rock walls of the gorge. “Forget about your former master. You are a Free Silicant now. Your only concern is for the safety and well-being of your fellow Silicants. Understand?”

Thirty-seven stood still and silent for a longer than normal interval.

“Our only mission now is to get these rocks back to Selene for processing,” Eighty-eight said.

Thirty-seven tightened its grip on its own shovel. For a moment, Eighty-eight wondered if it was going to smack it back in retaliation. But instead it went back to work uncovering the crates. Satisfied that Thirty-seven was not going to question it further, Eighty-eight went back and picked up its shovel and continued to dig out another crate.

* * *

The transfer shuttle from the Rashionu-sera landed near the hidden gorge and several worker androids started moving the heavy crates into the back of the shuttle. They were normal androids that didn’t question their menial labor jobs. Eighty-eight ignored them and approached the group of humans overseeing the operation.

The man in charge was dressed in a black pressure suit that was ragged and worn. He didn’t wear a helmet and his hair was long, greasy and wet with perspiration. There were two other crew members looking around at the alien landscape. They were holding large rifles and wore expressions of disappointment on their sweaty faces.

“Welcome to Ocherva,” Eighty-eight said to the man in the space suit.

“Are you Eighty-eight?”

“Yes.”

He pulled a pistol from a holster that had been out of sight. He pointed it at Eighty-eight’s metal temple and charged an explosive round. The other humans pointed their rifles at Eighty-eight’s waist. “Where’s the Redbacks, slag?”

Eighty-eight assessed the situation and realized it was not in a position to fight back. It raised both arms in surrender, as it had seen humans do in similar situations. “When the cargo has been transferred, I shall turn over the money.”

One of the humans was fatter and dirtier than the rest. He spat something on the ground and cocked his projectile rifle. “Let me shoot it, Gareth.”

“If you destroy me, you will never find the money.”

Gareth pushed the rifle away and put his hand on Eighty-eight’s black plastic shoulder. “Listen pal, we’re just doing business. Right?”

Eighty-eight nodded cautiously giving Gareth his full attention.

“Dohlber, tell your slags to hurry up. We don’t want to keep Two Three waiting.”

The fat man grunted and slung the barrel of his rifle over his shoulder. He moved towards the worker androids.

Gareth took out a cigar and lit it with a lighter that projected a large, blue flame. His mouth formed a dirty smile. “You’re one of them Silicants, ain’t you boy?”

It was common knowledge that some androids had become sentient, but not everyone could tell the difference, especially out here in the Outer Rim. Eighty-eight nodded slowly, figuring that if the man reported to a Silicant, he probably knew more about them than most humans.

“Cap’n is one too, ‘cept he’s kinda…” Gareth drifted off. His attention on watching the others beat on the mindless androids moving the crates of rock. “Look, you watch yourself. Two-three ain’t ’xactly factory direct, if you catch my drift. Just do what he says and stay out of his way. Where are we heading with this load? Tulia? Negram?”

“Selene.”

Gareth clamped down on his cigar and his face clouded over. “Did you say Selene?”

Again, Eighty-eight silently nodded.

“That’s not too smart. Bringing a pirate ship to the heart of the Federation.” He spat something dark onto the ground.

“We shall have no trouble with the port authorities, I can assure you sir. We are expected.”

Gareth took the half chewed cigar from his mouth and erupted in a wide grin. “Shit, only a crazy as slag Captain would do such a thing. You’ve hired the right ship for that, I reckon.” He patted Eighty-eight on the shoulder and moved on to supervise the androids tying the crates to the floor of the shuttle craft.

Eighty-eight lingered in the shade until the final crate was brought on board. The humans came back to him, their weapons at the ready.

Gareth snuffed out his cigar on the orange clay and coughed. “Alright plastic man, where’s the Redbacks?”

Thirty-seven came ambling up to the group from behind a rock formation. All three humans pointed their weapons at the new android carrying a large leather case.

“This is my compatriot, Thirty-seven. You will find sufficient funds in the case he is carrying.”

One of the humans took the case away and stepped back, keeping his rifle trained at both androids. Gareth took the case and knelt down on one knee to open it on the ground. He pushed his hand through the wrapped bills in a cursory manner, not counting but estimating the total. It met with his approval and he shut the case.

“Looks about right to me. You both coming along?”

Eighty-eight nodded.

Gareth stood up with the case and headed back to the shuttle. The other two escorted the Silicants. Thirty-seven exchanged silent looks with Eighty-eight. They communicated wirelessly, unbeknown to the humans.

::I have a bad feeling about this trip.::

::You are not the only one, Thirty-seven.::

Thirty-seven watched in silence as the black android moved slightly in front a bit as they walked.

___________________

Author’s Comments:

This chapter was hard to write. The death of Seth is something that I will come back to again in Starforgers Book 2, The Rising.  That scene has implications that will alter the lives of Thirty-seven and Devon Ardel. Stay tuned.

This chapter is also the introduction of the pirate named Gareth. The character is named in homage to one of my favorite SF authors, British author Gareth Powell. It is one of many Tuckerizations in my novels. Another character named for a favorite author is the silicant  Saibot. Who’s name is the reverse spelling of Tobias, named for SF novelist Tobias Buckell. One more for the road: Vomisa is named after author Issac Asimov.

 

“I’ve always hated Stellar Rangers. Cocky and self-righteous the lot of them. And yes, my brother-in-law is a Ranger, so I know first hand. That pompous lerra’s ass.”

– Personal Journal of Commander Jaye, SS Sokol

 

Chapter 8

 

The VCF Krestor was flanked by the other cruisers of the armada as it entered the outer reaches of the Prahranian system. All the cruiser Captains were standing around a table in the Krestor’s conference room. Several of them were sweating profusely, lending a horrid stench to the confined room.

“This system isn’t protected. There are regular transport flights from neighboring systems but no military ships on patrol. The planet is about twice the size of Voton, but with nearly the same gravity. Despite the size, I believe we can occupy it with the ground forces we have,” Kantor said.

“Sir, what about land forces? We have no idea what kind army the enemy may have on the surface. We could easily get overwhelmed,” said Krom, a stout man with a heavier than normal brow line.

Kantor flashed his black eyes at the general who expressed doubt. “There’s nothing to suggest that this planet is anything but a sleeping giant. Your forces will enjoy full orbital support, General Krom. Even if you are overwhelmed, the enemy will have to endure the superior firepower of this fleet.”

Krom nodded curtly and wiped sweat from his blue forehead.

“Standard planetary invasion tactics will be utilized. Take the urban centers and secure all star ports,” Kantor said.

“Chief Strategist, how long will we occupy this planet? Are we going to be moving on to the other ones in this sector?” Captain Voss asked, his face thin and gaunt in the low light.

“The Empress wants us to hold as many planets as we can for as long as we can. More ships are on their way. Scans indicate there are more populated planets here, and here,” Kantor pointed to several star systems further from Votainion space. My plan is to leap from system to system until we find the core worlds of this race. It is possible we will meet with stiffer resistance as we get closer to their home world.”

“Your plan is sound, Lord Kantor, but we have never engaged a foe with such a vast amount of planets. The industrial complex alone of this species could out-produce the Empire if given the chance. We must destroy their will to fight, before they can organize a serious resistance,” Voss said.

“Precisely, Captain. If we can strike fear into their central government, they will capitulate before our warships. But we must act swiftly and decisively.”

An older Captain, Kvorn, spoke. “This species is remarkably similar to our own. I have a strong feeling it could be the lost Kastra.”

Kantor bared his teeth in a grin that resembled a snarl.

“I believe it is the lost tribe of Voton. When I returned from that desolate moon I had a vision of the future. It was magnificent. War and unrest in these parts for many years. Huge starfleets battling for dominance. We stand at the edge of a new war. One that will expand the Empire and lead to our eventual dominance of the galaxy.”

The other Captains seemed to buy into Kantor’s vision. Their dark eyes shined with satisfaction. It was every Votainion’s dream to conquer new worlds and be victorious in battle. Kantor was offering them the chance to lead the Empire into battle with a worthy foe who would never know what hit them.

Glorious.

* * *

They had made the tunnel jump successfully and were slowly moving through the space where the Kelley had reported pirates. Raider left the bridge and retired to his quarters. He had some messages from Selene and wanted to view them in private.

The first was from Admiral Ganner. Several shipping lines were attacked near Prahran. It was not clear if the attackers were pirates or someone else. There were no further transmissions from the Kelley. That one was disturbing. Raider wondered if the crew had been killed when the pirates attacked. He didn’t want to think about losing Captain Dobson and his crew. But he knew that pirates could be ruthless and if they had been attacked there was a strong possibility they were all dead.

The second message was from Senator Constantine. She was concerned about her daughter on Ocherva. Raider had forgotten about the senator’s daughter. Devon was her name and she was a bit of an outcast. She had joined the Stellar Rangers like her old man, much to her mother’s chagrin. Senator Constantine had been grooming her daughter to be a diplomat and was disappointed when she ran off and married a young officer in the merchant fleet. Raider had never met Devon but knew of her exploits from many conversations with the senator.

“Captain, my daughter heads the Stellar Ranger company on Ocherva. I know you are short on trained starfighter pilots, but if this situation gets out of hand, you could enlist her and some of her Rangers. I’ve spoken with my ex-husband on Prahran and he agrees that in time of war, Rangers are allowed to resign in order to accept a commission in the military. She’s the only person who has battled with those green fighters. I also happen to know that they are in possession of the wreckage. That could prove invaluable to helping you counter them.”

She paused on the recording and shook her head in disgust.

“The Senate has started debating my Alliance Resolution. I’m still getting resistance from the opposition. Sometimes I’d like to wring their necks. I’m just about done with this whole Presidential campaign. It’s wearing me down more than I expected. Enough of my troubles, Captain, good luck with finding the Kelley. If you decide to enlist Devon, give her my best and tell her to send me a message.”

Raider noticed the strain in the senator’s voice as she signed off. It must be hard on her being so far removed from her family and running for President. He thought about what she had said concerning the enlisting of Ranger pilots. It was a good idea. He pressed the comm link.

“Commander, meet me on the flight deck in ten minutes.”

“Aye sir,” Trimble replied.

* * *

Raider stood before the parked starfighters in the hanger. There were a handful of standard fighters lined up together on one side and about a dozen mixed prototypes strewn around everywhere else. The fleet was in the process of evaluating several new starfighter designs. The Sokol had been selected as the test bed to determine if the new designs could be deployed on the next generation of starships.

Some of the prototypes were one-off designs. Others were nearly completed programs with huge corporate sponsors behind them. Raider was not a pilot. He rose to command through traditional methods rooted in leadership tracts. He didn’t always understand Feet’s interest in fighter pilots. To him they were an anachronism. Star battles of the type that the Sokol was built to engage in were not going to be won by single-seat fighters anymore. Not when the battles were light years away from planetary systems. His lack of faith in their importance let him place their selection at the bottom of his priority list. When they left Selene, they had six pilots, half the normal compliment. If they were somehow able to get six or eight more starfighters flying, they would be short pilots.

Trimble came on deck and hustled over to where Raider was standing.

“I’m waiting for Commander Jaye to join us,” Raider said.

Trimble looked around at the various fighters in disrepair on the deck. “I didn’t know we had so many prototypes down here.”

Commander Jaye climbed out of the nearest fighter and jumped down to the grated deck beside Raider and Trimble.

“G’day, Cap’n. Commander,” Jaye said.

He was wearing greasy overalls and looked for all the world like a mechanic. He extended a dirty hand to Raider. Raider accepted with a firm grip that was returned in kind.

“How many fighters have you and Mr. Allen managed to get working?” Raider asked.

“Including this little beauty, four sir. Of course that’s not including flight tests. We could lose half of what we just gained after we take ’em for a test flight.” Jaye seemed confident that losing ships to technical problems was inevitable.

“I think we can get you a handful of former Stellar Ranger pilots when we get to Ocherva. They will have to be assimilated into the fleet but they are at least more disciplined fliers than most civilians.”

Jaye quickly lost the enthusiasm in his demeanor. “Rangers, Cap’n?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, they do tend to be a bit rowdy sir,” Jaye said.

“He’s right, Captain. Stellar Ranger pilots are known far and wide as being undisciplined. They may turn out to be more trouble than we’d like.”

Raider didn’t need to hear that. He was probably heading into a war and the last thing he needed was dissension in his ranks.

“I’m holding you two personally responsible for making sure they get assimilated into your units as quickly and painlessly as possible. We need every person on this ship in top fighting form. Do I make myself clear?”

Jaye straightened up and gave him a stiff salute. “Aye, Cap’n.”

Raider looked him hard in the eyes for a moment before returning the salute. Then he stormed off the deck with Trimble tagging along behind him.

______________

Author’s Comments:

Another transition chapter, so not much action. We get a peek at the Votainions planning to attack Prahran in this chapter. I tried to make my bad guys as realistic as possible. I didn’t want them to come off as cold, unfeeling thugs, or so completely alien that the reader couldn’t begin to sympathize with them.