Invasion of Kzarch
Read Invasion of Kzarch Online
Authors: E. G. Castle
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Alien Invasion, #Space Marine, #Military, #War
Invasion of Kzarch
E. G. Castle
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, be it electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recording or other, without written permission from the author, except for reprints in the context of reviews.
‘Invasion of Kzarch’ (Edition 1.1) text by Castle, E. G. Copyright © 2014.
Novels:
Fancy Apartments
Invasion of Kzarch
Tough Magic:
Absenscantia
Trenus
Magithral
Omnibus
(Absenscantia – Trenus – Magithral)
Novelettes:
The Will be Done
Non-Fiction:
Machiavelli’s The Prince: An Analysis
Collections:
A Hodge-Podge of Stories
(Short Stories)
Just for Fun
(Poems)
Moreover, a Jumble
(Short Stories)
Real Quick Flash Fic
(Flash Fiction)
Short Stories:
All Hands!
An Army of the Dead
The Crystal
Death of a Pop-Idol
Decision of Fate
Devin and the Teacher
Dragon-in-Distress
An Encounter and an Offer
A Fantasy Attraction
Mark Delewen and the Space Pirates
The Priest, the Scientist, and the Meteor
Sewing Circle
The Story of the Fire-Swan
Ultimate Hero
The Worst Shots in the West
Random Powers:
The Boy who was as hard as Stone
The Man who Carried Trouble
The Man who Controlled Metal
The One who Started Fires
The Woman who made Machines go Haywire
Table of Contents
“Lieutenant Harsmith, we’re approaching the drop-off point.” The merchant captain’s voice was attempting to simulate a proper military tone. It wasn’t a bad approximation, actually.
“Thank you, captain. My platoon is suited up and ready. Awaiting your mark.” the lieutenant replied civilly. He could almost see the merchant’s hidden smile of pleasure, of being treated as if were a captain of a regular Marine transport.
He glanced around at his troops, and, tapping on his com, said, “Last call, people. We’re booting it in thirty.”
Acknowledgments rolled back to him, along with the usual grumbles. The lieutenant ignored them.
As he waited out what little time remained, the lieutenant, Lieutenant Frank Jason Harsmith to give his full name, ran a last check on his battlesuit.
Even as the tests started coming back green, the merchant captain contacted him again.
“Ten seconds left, lieutenant. We’re slowing down now.” Frank didn’t reply, too busy chivying his soldiers into position, helped by his dour platoon sergeant. The bay doors were already opening, and he wanted everyone ready to jump out in proper order.
“Three… Two…” the captain said as his ship came to a stop.
“Mark!” The Marine platoon jumped, squad after squad flinging themselves into the black yonder.
The lieutenant jumped with the third squad, automatically adjusting his position in the formation the platoon was forming. He waited until all his troops had launched themselves from the merchant ship, then commed its captain.
“The platoon has fully disembarked, sir. We’re beginning our approach to Kzarch.”
“Good luck, lieutenant.” The platoon’s transport turned, and began heading out-system; they needed to hurry to make their next destination in time.
“Thank you, captain.” With that, Frank cut his com. He ran a quick check on his platoon’s formation, then looked ahead eagerly to the waiting planet, mind flashing back to the briefing he had been given…
***
Sitting in the small office, Frank sat stiffly, and watched as the Marine captain set up the screen, and mumbled over some papers. It would hardly do to betray his impatience.
“Well, lieutenant,” the captain began abruptly, almost not seeming to care if he was paying attention, “Your mission should be simple.” He harrumphed slightly, and tapped a few orders into his comp, which made the screen display a planet, its specs shown off on the side.
Kzarch? Never heard of it before…
Frank thought, staring at the red (Plants), white (Clouds) and green-blue (Ocean and seas) planet, part of his brain rapidly assimilating the information.
Slightly high air density, as well as gravity. Not as much as his home planet though. Several continents, and oceans, fairly standard vegetation and planet composition for a habitable planet.
Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell.
Having allowed the lieutenant enough time to evaluate the planet, the captain began speaking again.
“As I said, it should be fairly simple. We got a message from, er, Kzarch, that a pirate ship had been sighted. There isn’t much more to go on, as the, er, Kzarchians, barely detected them at all… You’re going to need to find them -if there actually
are
any, and they’re still hanging around- and take them down before they cause trouble. Fortunately, it’s unlikely to be too difficult. Kzarch isn’t very populated,” the screen switched to show the population and economic statistics, which were indeed very low. The total population barely passed sixteen million. “And, in fact, it’s somewhat hard to say why it was bothered to be colonized at all. There isn’t anything valuable there, it’s out of the way, and the climate’s nothing special.” He shrugged.
“Anyway, with such a low population density, and considering that outsiders will stick out like sore thumbs…”
“Understood, sir.”
“Don’t interrupt!” the captain snapped. “Right, then. You’re in command of a standard sixty-man platoon, right? Good. For transport, you’re going to have to live with a merchant ship; it’ll drop you off, then continue to its destination. It’ll be slow and cramped, but Kzarch is too far out to waste a military-class transport, and you don’t have many men anyway.”
Frank kept silent this time, as the captain paused.
“That’s it. Here’s your mission specs, and what we have on Kzarch.” He handed over a data-tab. “…Good luck, lieutenant.” That last came out grudgingly. Then the captain marched out of the room.
***
“Sir? There’s something coming from the planet.”
“What?” Snatched from his reminiscences, Frank frowned. Kzarch barely had any space industry at all. What could…
A quick look at the data his scout fed him left him none the wiser. Six bogies inbound, but there wasn’t anything more on them than that.
“Keep an eye on them,” he ordered, then activated the platoon’s general com channel.
“People, we have bogies incomin’. Keep an eye out. They may be friendly or hostile.”
A channel opened up from his platoon sergeant, Sergeant McKain.
“They’re hostile.” he opined, before Frank could say anything. The lieutenant was hardly surprised. The sergeant’s nearly twenty years in the service had left him pessimistic and cynical to an almost unbelievable degree.
“That’s hardly likely,” Franck said patiently. “The pirates only have a single ship. I’d guess these are Kzarch’s space patrol.”
“Space patrol? There wasn’t anything about them in the file,” the sergeant said suspiciously. The lieutenant almost sighed.
“True, but it was hardly up-to-date.”
“They’re hostile!” McKain asserted again. “Look, they’re coming right at us!” Actually, that was an exaggeration. Sure, the bogies where heading in the platoon’s general direction, but at this range, that didn’t mean much. Besides…
“So? They’re probably just coming over to escort us in.”
“Then why didn’t they reply to our hails, when we came into the system?” Frank almost sighed as the sergeant attempted to rehash an old argument.
“Again, their intrasystem com probably broke down,” the lieutenant explained, overly patiently. “Considering how delicate those things are, and how bad out-systems are at maintenance, it would’ve been more of a surprise if it
was
working.” The sergeant was well aware of that, but couldn’t help but worry over it. He
hated
not having up-to-date info on a situation.
“I don’t like it…” the sergeant finally grumbled.
Frank resisted the temptation to ask, ‘Is there anything you
do
?’ and simply said, “Well, like it or not, there isn’t much we can do now anyway. We’re just going to have to wait.” With that, he cut the channel, and went back to staring at the planet ahead.
***
“They’re still coming, sir.” The scout, hanging some way ahead, reported a few minutes later. Frank frowned. He was beginning not to like this. Sure, he was still assuming they were escorts, and if they
were
, it would make sense for them to keep approaching…
But the more he saw of them, the less he liked them.
The bogies, identified as Blastfire gunboats, were the completely wrong type of space patrol for a frontier planet. Blastfires were short-range, and sometimes finicky. A frontier planet would usually go for something with a fair bit of range, and that could keep working without requiring extensive maintenance.
Of course, perhaps Kzarch had had to take what it could get, but…
Lips firming, he contacted his sergeant.
“McKain?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You getting anything out of the sensor readings that I’m not?”
A pause.
“I don’t…
think
so,” the dour sergeant replied. “But… I really don’t like their formation.” Suppressing a grimace, Frank wondered if the sergeant really suspected something, or if he was just being his usual pessimistic self. It was hardly likely that this was some sort of trap, after all. On the other hand… At worst, it couldn’t hurt to be careful.
Saying as much to McKain, the lieutenant then ordered over the platoon’s com, “Prepare yourselves people. The bogies are still coming, and I’m beginning not to like the looks of them. Get ready. I want a tri-wing formation, and the scouts on point, h- and q-squad behind.” McKain began yelling the troops into order, while the lieutenant turned back to the bogies. He
really
was beginning not to like this…
Thirty seconds passed, and the Frank tried to hail the incoming gunboats.
“This is Lieutenant Harsmith of the UFM. Please respond.” He waited a moment then sent the message again, a small pit beginning to grow in his stomach. This wasn’t going right…
After sending a third time, then a fourth, he finally gave up. Whoever the bogies were, they obviously had no interest in talking.
The lieutenant commed McKain again.
“They’re hostile,” he said, almost softly.
McKain gave a slightly satisfied grunt. He was hardly pleased at being right. Still, having something bad happening meant that things were going according to their usual schedule, which was a back-handed comfort.
“I’d have to guess they’re the pirates then,” Frank continued.
“Probably,” the ever-cautious sergeant allowed.
“But how come they’re acting as if they own the planet? Surely they have to be worried about what will happen when- well,
if
Kzarch spots them.”
The sergeant gave another grunt, but this time, it was one of worry.
“This isn’t good, sir.”
“No… It isn’t.” The lieutenant thought hard for a second. Then he opened the general com again.
“Everyone, activate your ECM and shields. But no one is to fire until I give the order. Acknowledge.” A round of replies returned, most along the lines of, ‘Aw,
can’t
we?’
McKain, however, only gave a dark, muttered grumble, before laying into his troops, trying to get them to take the situation seriously. Frank, his head safely hidden, rolled his eyes. Quite obviously, the sergeant would prefer to simply shoot the bogies as soon as they came in range.
But, although they were likely hostile, Lieutenant Harsmith had no intention of letting things get out of hand. Until he was
sure
they weren’t friendlies, holding fire only made sense.
Besides, if they turned out
not
to be hostile…
Frank winced at the thought of a diplomatic incident.
No, best to play it careful.
The lieutenant attempted to contact the bogies again, this time warning them off.
“This is Lieutenant Harsmith of the United Federation Marines. Please either respond, or change your course. Again…” After repeating his message, the lieutenant waited, vainly, for a reply. There was none.
He was still wondering what to do next, when the bogies fired. A volley of missiles roared through space, appearing as a small swarm of red beads on the lieutenant’s helmet display.
“
Shit!
” swore one of the Marines, quickly followed by others.
“Keep the channel clear!” Frank snapped, he himself busy mentally cursing. “Javer! Your squad’s on point-defense! Take those missiles
down
! Kate, I want your heavies locked on those bogies
now
! McKain, take charge of wing two, and swing it off! Then everyone do a swarm scatter! I want us in a spread formation before the missiles can get here!” Taking charge of wing one himself, Lieutenant Harsmith directed them away from the main body, making them spread wider as well.
Still cursing to himself, Frank knew he should have already done this. But who would’ve thought…?
Now wasn’t the time for regrets though.
“McKain,” he said over the com, “Look up what you’ve got on Blastfires.” He was doing the same in his own battlesuit.
“I want to know what weapons they’re-”
“No need, sir. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve faced Blastfires; and this particular type either. They’re missile heavy, not much in way of ee-cees; they’ve only got two short ranged ones. They can launch three missiles in a volley, and can stock up to a hundred-sixty, depending on the size. Shields are on the light side, but their speed means they can run away from pretty much anything.” Scanning the file that had popped up on his screen, Frank only found confirmation on what his sergeant was telling him.
At that point, another missile round was launched, before the first one had reached the platoon. Frank’s lips tightened.
“All right. I think we need to tell these people to back off. McKain, how much SIAMs do you think we’ll need to take penetrate their defenses? I think if we split the heavies fire, we’ll be able to hit at least two of them.”
“I think we should concentrate on one, sir,” McKain disagreed. “Their point defense won’t be too good, but chances are they’ll catch a couple. Better to at least get one, than waste
all
the missiles by spreading our fire.” Frank considered, then shrugged, watching as Javer’s squad began shooting down the approaching missiles, using their battlesuits’ wegs. Bright, eye-blink fast flashes of yellow energy speared from the Marines, bracketing each missile, occasionally making one explode as a beam made contact.