Alien Backlash Page 34

  The days marched on at a furious pace with weapons training, converting civilian ships to military use and arming them, as well as preparations to supply and hide the non-combatants. Akira and his team worked on reprogramming the satellites with the help of Okme and Niseyen specialists. Each night adults and older children ferried supplies outside the cities where others waited to take them further on.

  On the ninth day of the bombardment Katy exploded at Jesan, “What the hell’s wrong with your people? Why won’t they face reality? Why won’t they train? Why won’t they fight? They’re complaining about the noise!”

  “They have grown up with Keulfyd. They don’t understand and most of the media are not helping. Only two reporters are trying to mobilize them and they are being ridiculed.”

  “Why won’t they listen to my Mum or your Dad?”

  “Because none of them really believe what is happening.”

  Katy sighed in frustration. “What can we do? Mum tells them every night to prepare for war and they ignore her. Most of them aren’t even watching her broadcasts. They’re watching canned shows!”

  “There’s too much resistance, both from their life experience and from conflicting information. They expect we will surrender.”

  “We won’t. I know my Mum and my people. The Okme won’t either. Nor will the Cats. That’s the majority. Even if the Niseyen could get the Priskya on their side, they still don’t have their majority.” She stormed off

  She had a temper like his mother, thought Jesan, but much more self-control. His mother threw things, sometimes at her latest man and sometimes at him. Katy tended to shoot these days, at Keulfyd-shaped targets. With nothing better to do, Jesan followed her. As he passed the paintball firing range, a group of Terrans came out laughing. Several of them were pretty girls. Jesan tended to notice these things.

  As the girls walked by, Jesan said, “Katy, I’ve got an idea.”

  A few minutes of planning and a diversion later, Jesan walked into the Niseyen restaurant and yelled, “We’ve been issued a challenge! Katy has a team of Terran girls that play paintball and they’ve issued a challenge to a Niseyen team. I need another eleven players. Any takers?”

  “What’s the prize?” yelled someone.

  “The losers shout the winners out for a meal.”

  There was a stunned silence. “We lose and we get a date?” asked another male in shock.

  “Are they idiots?” asked another.

  “They’re Terrans — they don’t understand us. It’s cultural. This is normal for them, like a dare.”

  “What, we just accept the challenge and then try to lose?”

  “You can try to win but you haven’t a prayer. They’re good! I don’t want us to lose by too much, though. That would be embarrassing. Anyone here with any type of experience with rifles?” The expressions he could see showed intrigue, amusement and disbelief.

  “I’ve got military experience,” said one, “I just join up?”

  “Not quite,” said Jesan, flipping his wrist around in the “pay up” gesture known to most Races.

  The man walked over to him and asked, “How much?” He held out his wrist to Jesan’s and paid as others quickly followed. The enthusiasm picked up. This was now commercial. Jesan had to make good on all he had said or refund their money plus a 5% penalty if this didn’t go through.

  He soon had his team. As they zoomed off to get ready he looked at his balance. He had never seen it so healthy. He grinned. It had been climbing steadily since he left Medala on the family’s bank ship and had a little word with his great-aunt Frionna, who had been happy to help him make a little adjustment to his personal banking conditions. This little arrangement had added another healthy amount. Chuckling, he contacted a reporter he knew. “I have a nice little exclusive for you for tonight,” and he went on to describe the evening’s challenge and the further addition he expected to his bank account. As he expected, the reporter paid up.

  Two hours later, Jesan led his team in to get changed and have a couple of practice runs. An impromptu team of Terrans took them on and trounced them, but he and his team learnt some valuable lessons as Rijifin the man with the military experience grumbled, “The paint hurts. Most of us are lousy shots — we need some tactics and a better plan.”

  Jesan nodded, “We’re on a steep learning curve and we suck.”

  Laughing, the Terran team, almost unscathed, set to train them up, determined to make them look as good as they could.

  Meanwhile, Katy was recruiting the best, prettiest players she could find and briefing them on the real agenda for the night. As they met by the paintball range that evening she yelled for quiet. “I hope you have all familiarized yourselves with this range and your weapons. I see you all have the safety equipment on. Don’t take it off! Your mission tonight is to get through the jungle, grab the survivor, which is a dummy dressed in fluorescent green, and get back to your starting point as fast as possible. The other team starts from the other end. The mission is the main objective, but another objective is to get back to your base with the least casualties of your own and leaving no one behind. The winning team will be the one that completes the mission.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, the Terrans had won, all but one surviving. For the Niseyen, the toll was somewhat messier. As Katy explained to the Niseyen survivors who straggled back, “You didn’t achieve your objective — we rescued the dummy. All but one of your team was shot, seven ‘fatally’ and four ‘seriously,’ one sprained his ankle, and one knocked himself silly. It took sixteen minutes for your survivors to get back to your base, without the dummy. Now you have to go back and get your ‘dead’ and ‘injured,’ actual and imaginary.”

  Katy turned to the media. “My team scored the objective, all players recovered, one ‘dead’ and three ‘injured’. I think we’d better go help our opponents.” Laughing, her team helped retrieve the ‘dead’ and ‘injured’ Niseyen — among them was Jesan, who was officially one of the fatalities to his acute embarrassment. All this was played out on the media, the exclusive of this little segment sold to rival media swelling the reporter’s bank account as he rapidly made a profit on what he had paid Jesan.

  That night the Niseyen restaurant was noisy and crowded with excited people. Jesan saw each of his team with a date, looking to be thoroughly enjoying themselves and the envy of the jealous onlookers. Later, Jesan reported to an amused Sarah and Dai that “The true objective was achieved and teams are swiftly being organized for the next few days.”

  “What true objective?” asked Sarah.

  “Training the Niseyen in the use of weapons and tactics. Familiarizing them with taking cover, working as a team, firing, hitting the target, rescuing their wounded, little things like that.”

  “But there won’t be enough training to make a difference,” she answered, puzzled.

  “Mum, multiply that by every range, every occupied city,” said Katy. “Add incentive, enthusiasm and all the Terrans now in the know enthusiastically endorsing this and happy to pay the price of winning. Next, we’re going to keep changing the scenario, changing the weapons, training them like we do our own.”

  “And we’re competitive. We’ll want to win sometimes,” murmured Dai. “Whose idea was this? It’s brilliant.”

  “Thank you, Dad. It was lucrative too,” said Jesan flipping his wrist as Dai laughed. He and Jesan laughed even more as they saw the puzzlement on Sarah’s face and realized that Katy hadn’t clicked on either to Jesan’s little business enterprise.

  On the twenty-first day of the bombardment Sarah said to Dai, “I don’t understand how these shields work, the ones on the ships.” Katy moved over from the kitchen to listen.

  “They are powered by generators, one to a ship,” Dai said. “There is a thin protective covering around the whole ship but the best tactic is to hit it with continuous fire on one location, the smallest spot the better. A single shot won’t work. You would have to use a bomb so large it would th
reaten the ship that fired it.”

  “Like a nuclear bomb?”

  “Yes. And no one would be stupid enough to use bombs that would poison a planet you want to occupy.”

  Oh, we’re stupid enough, thought Sarah, with a knowing glance at Katy.

  “The shield responds by thickening at that point. If it is hit by continuous fire at one location for long enough, the shield fails. That’s what happened to the gunships and to the resupply ships. The gunships would have been sent in close to draw power and test the shield output. They underestimated it. The resupply ships should have been well out of range of the standard weapons sent with the original shield. Another strategy of the Loridsyl was that they didn’t fire on ships that were in range. They were responding well under their capacity, fitting in with what the original shield had in terms of range and weapons. The resupply ships had to be destroyed.

  “In contrast to a ship shield, a planet shield has multiple generators, therefore multiple backups and redundancies. The strongest point is near the generators and the weakest part is midway between. The output can be increased or decreased, so the aggressors don’t know what power output the shield is capable of until it is tested and reaches its limit.”

  “So it’s a game of bluff and subterfuge as well.”

  “Exactly, Katy.”

  “How will they know when it should be reaching its limit?”

  “The Keulfyd know the strength of the original shield that was bought. They had a spy somewhere,” said Sarah. “Probably in the factory.”

  Jesan came over. “How do you know that?”

  “I was suspicious. I challenged the Loridsyl and got the Priskya to put in an official complaint. Helkmid told me if a complaint isn’t dealt with to the satisfaction of the customer, it becomes a matter of public record. The Loridsyl replaced the shield with a much better one. To my mind, that equalled admitting guilt. The Priskya withdrew their complaint.”

  Jesan looked thoughtful. “What will the Keulfyd do? How do they fight a planetary shield?”

  “They calculate the power output, the time it takes to reinforce an area, and any power drops are noted.”

  “Power drops could be bluffing,” Katy surmised.

  “Exactly,” Dai smiled. She catches on fast.

  “Is that what the Loridsyl are going to do?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then what?”

  “The shield will shrink to the area surrounding the generator where the control room is, to defend where the Loridsyl personnel are. According to warfare protocol, the Keulfyd will then, I think, put all their gunships into a wedge formation so their shields overlap and they’ll go through the middle between two generators. Then bring the rest of their ships through the same way.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s what I’d do. I’d never assume the shield was down and all the weapons gone. I’d think it likely but not definite. Not to mention it’s standard procedure. By now the Keulfyd have realized that, at the very least, some weapons with a greater range have been added.”

  “And when will this happen?”

  “About another fifteen or twenty days. It depends on several variables. The Loridsyl are keeping us informed as to their weapons output and when the Keulfyd will expect them to run out of weapons and power. When the power would have been due to fail according to the strength of the original shield they will warn us and then drop the shield.”

  “How will they warn us with all communications blocked?”

  Jesan knew that one. “They’ll fire and hit a predetermined target on the planet. I found military history quite interesting, especially the tactics and different fighting styles of different Races. I particularly enjoyed asymmetrical and guerrilla warfare.”

  Dai looked somewhat startled, “Correct. Sarah, are you still determined to fight?”

  “I can’t ask other people to fight if I don’t. Katy brought my rifles and we are going to use them. Katy and I are very good snipers even if our usual targets were paper.”

  She knew Dai planned to take a small fighter up and attack the fleet as it came through. Jesan was going to be his gunner. Dai’s own ship had been turned into a communication station months ago. As such, it was too valuable to leave the planet as it was now the backup command center. Not having a ship was driving him nuts, as was the inactivity. Actually, she thought, the wait was driving them all nuts. She would be relieved once the fighting started. She and Katy practiced every day but Katy hadn’t brought enough ammunition for more than a few shots each day. She hadn’t anticipated another war but she had bought the rifles, plus the bows.

  Unspoken was the knowledge that all of them were going to be taking huge risks, and all of them might not survive.

  At that same moment, on board his command ship, Kedlijercylix was becoming very concerned. At the officer’s meeting he said, “I do not understand why our tactics are not working. The shield’s weaponry has been reinforced. It must have been. They either have more weapons or are being reckless and will soon run out. Are we sure of our Intel?”

  “We are,” said the weapons master, “but the skill of the operators and tacticians is unknown to us since they are chosen late and our source did not have access to that information. It could be they have been lucky. They are known to be reckless.”

  “I worry. We will have to keep our distance since it seems we cannot overload the shield. Maybe they guessed well but I worry. We will take our time and wear it down.”

  “That will be costly. It will eat into our profit,” commented the weapons master who had to deal with an irate quartermaster on a daily basis. “The weapons are more costly than the gunships!”

  “We will wear them down. How long can they continue at the present drain on the shield generators?”

  “Fifteen to twenty days, if we continue this rate of fire.”

  “I expected to be here for a short campaign. I will miss my daughter’s graduation. I am not pleased. Keep me informed of the estimated power drain on the shield and the predicted date of failure. And the estimated weapons store.”

  “The weapon count will be a guess. They could have any amount of weapons if they have added to them.”

  “Make it an accurate guess!” And with that Kedlijercylix left the meeting.

  The other officers looked at each other. “This is embarrassing and he is coming under severe criticism,” said one. “What’s this graduation?”

  “Military Academy.”

  The original speaker winced. “Poor child. This will be humiliating for her as well. Damn this publicity and that media fleet. I hate all media with their rumours, conjecture and downright lies!”

  “Not to mention the daily ridicule.” said another. “I never thought Torroxell would fight. First a refusal to surrender and then the loss of a gunship so early on. This is not going as predicted.”

  On the twenty-third day of the bombardment, the weapons master told Kedlijercylic, “We have noticed a slight reduction, at times, in the power output of the shield when it is under heavy fire.”

  “Weapons estimate?”

  “Just over two thirds of what came with the shield have been deployed.”

  On the twenty-fourth day of the bombardment, Sarah fronted yet another media statement to counter the allegations of Krilsrud Kogilkikoe, a media commentator that Sarah particularly detested. “As I have told you before, we have a plan and it is such a good one that when we explained it to the Jadkidif Bank, which we had to do to convince them to invest with us, all except one of the negotiating team stayed here to help set the bank up. They gave us the loan, they are manufacturing data bracelets, they are busy employing people and are setting up branches and accounts. Why would they do that if things were as hopeless as Krilsrud says? More to the point, why do you believe a man whose ‘sources’ are his ugly mug in his mirror every morning?” There was some scattered laughter at that.

  “Due to the amount of debris falling, and the unanticipated
numbers of hunter/killer satellites launched, along with an equally huge number of tiny surveillance satellites, the Loridsyl can no longer guarantee that no surveillance devices got through. There were just too many launched at once. Some could be concealed by the debris. So now some of our preparation has to be indoors,” she said thinking of the hundreds of simulators in full use every hour of the day and night. Thinking of the paintball games that were using interchangeable weapons and teaching the Niseyen how to use them and accurately. Thinking of the need to train the Cats to fly planes in simulators hidden in the Kepi caves when the Cats’ very identity had to be kept secret. Thinking of her shock when the Cats originally asked to train in the simulators, the Cats who had never flown before but were confident they could learn. Thinking of her shock as they told her that one Cat in training could pass on the theory via telepathy to thousands of others at a time so each Cat needed only one lesson to get the feel of the controls. Thinking of the warning from Dai that there would now be spies for the Keulfyd among the Niseyen settlers. Thinking of the need to stock up various locations with siege supplies. All done very quietly in the middle of the night, which on this planet was not dark enough due to too many moons!

  And all this right under the noses of the Niseyen without the Niseyen knowing what they were doing, or rather the scale at which they were doing it. Thinking of the painful need to tell the children and others who were doing this job, if they were seen, to tell any Niseyen who asked that some of the little children and pregnant women were going to hide. Not until the last minute would the whole population know that most of them were going to be told to “head for the hills.” The Terrans and Okme would go. Would the Niseyen?

  Sarah continued, “We will tell you the plan as you need to implement it. Please continue to train, continue to have faith and plan for your future because you will have a future. However, I would not recommend selling life insurance to the Keulfyd up there.”