Starship Liberator Read online

  “She’s gone,” he said. A coldness settled on him like a blanket, a comforter that kept him numb.

  “It’s okay. I can keep going,” said Loco.

  “No. She’s gone. She’s dead.” Derek turned to his friend. “Oh, Cosmos. Mara.”

  The two scrambled to their feet and began searching for Derek’s sister. They couldn’t find her, but they did find her burnt pack, and a bloody shoe. She couldn’t have survived.

  In a daze, he took Mara’s Glory Girl figurine from the pack and dropped the rest. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He felt numb, but he tried to think. Being a kid helped. He couldn’t absorb all this shock at once—so he didn’t bother. He became practical instead.

  “What about your parents?” he asked Loco.

  Loco’s eyes widened. “I… I don’t know...”

  “We should find out.”

  “Why aren’t you freaking? Aren’t you sad?” Loco asked him. There were tears on his face.

  Derek gazed at Loco, knowing he should be crying too. But he didn’t feel it. Not yet. “I’ll be sad later,” he said.

  “Me too.” Loco wiped his eyes and put on a brave face. “Let’s go. The Hok are coming. We have to see if my parents are okay. Then we have to hide somewhere until we find a way to fight back. Weapons or something.” He stood up. “Come on.”

  “How do you know the Hok are coming?” Derek demanded as they jogged down the neighborhood street.

  “Because that’s what they do. They come and enslave everybody until the mechsuiters free them.”

  “That’s just on vids.” Derek slowed to a walk and glanced at his best friend, ignoring the devastation around them. A few people stumbled along or ran here and there. A fire truck sprayed foam on a burning dwelling. Dogs barked in pointless alarm.

  “Jeez, Derek, you’re always so gullible. You believe everything the teachers say and you think showvids are real. Don’t you watch the news? The war reports?”

  “Mom won’t let me. She says it’s too depressing. I just watch Mechsuit Roundup, and histories of Old Earth.”

  “That proves it,” Loco said. “She doesn’t want you to see. Mechsuits don’t always win. Sometimes they lose and nobody gets freed.”

  “They do not!”

  “If they always win, why haven’t we won the war already?”

  Derek felt more confident about that one. “The Hundred Worlds has a hundred systems. The Hok have thousands, but their tech isn’t as good as ours. It’s a big war.”

  Loco shook his head. “No. We don’t always win.”

  “Mechsuiters do.” Derek gave up on the argument as he felt his energy drain away, leaving him with barely enough to walk and look around. Many houses in the neighborhood had been smashed flat. “This was a surgical bombardment,” he said. “Orbital smart spikes, no warheads.”

  “How do you know?” Loco demanded.

  “Because I actually read all the schoolbooks and a lot of military texts instead of only watching showvids, dumbass. Warheads would have wiped out a dozen houses at a time, maybe hundreds. These zeroed in on structures and smashed them kinetically, one by one.”

  “Why civilians then?” asked Loco. “Why not armories and security stations?”

  Derek chewed that one over. “Maybe they knew we’re special, gonna be mechsuiters.”

  “How could they know?”

  “Spies? Traitors? Intercepted intelligence?”

  Loco grunted. “Why no warheads, then? Why not just nuke the city?”

  Derek thought hard. He’d been trained on all things military—but he was still a kid.

  “I don’t know, mutual retaliation maybe. They don’t want us to nuke their planets,” he said. “Or they’re limiting damage to stuff so they can take it and use it. Also, spikes are cheap. They can drop thousands, tens of thousands from orbit.”

  “So they’re trying to capture Oceanus?” Loco wailed. “Our whole planet?”

  “Yeah, probably. But it’s okay. Mechsuiters will come.”

  “It’s too late. Your family is dead!”

  “I know.” Derek wondered why he wasn’t bawling with grief, but right now he felt nothing, as if his insides had been refrigerated. “There’s your house.”

  Loco stopped in the front yard and stared in horror at the ruin, twin to Derek’s. Then he ran into the wreckage, Derek following.

  After five minutes of searching they found the bodies.

  “They’re dead too,” Loco said, choking. “They said they’d be watching the news after I left, trying to get info on what’s happening.”

  “Sorry, Loco.”

  They hugged, and Loco sobbed. Derek wondered why Loco could cry and he couldn’t. He awkwardly patted his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, man. We can’t stay here.”

  Lights flared in the sky, missile launches from the ground reaching upward toward bright specks that fell. Lasers flashed red and orange and green, visible because of the haze rising from the damaged city. Flares appeared high above, like fireworks on Establishment Day.

  “They’re doing a combat drop,” Derek said. “The Hok assault ships. They’ll be here soon. We have to hide.”

  “Where?”

  “Some of these houses are okay. Somebody will be home.”

  “The Rasheeds live right there. They’ll take us in,” Loco said. “Their kids are neuro-typicals. They go to a regular school.”

  “Wait. No. That won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the Hok will look there first.”

  “At the Rasheeds?”

  “At intact houses. They’ll round everyone up and either kill them or put them to work in labor camps. We have to find a better place to hide until the mechsuiters come. Somewhere for a few days or weeks.”

  “Okay.” Loco looked around. “Where then? The emergency shelter?”

  “Same problem. The Hok will find them.”

  Loco snapped his fingers. “Food market.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me. Let’s go.” Loco began to run, and Derek followed.

  The food market was smashed as well, but the building was so large that much of it still stood, albeit half-wrecked.

  “There’s a basement for employees,” Loco said. “It has bathrooms and a kitchen and stuff. We can take food down there and survive for a long time.”

  “We can’t take the food! That would be stealing.”

  Loco grabbed a bag and began to fill it with cans and boxes. “This is war, Derek, my uptight friend. Real war. And we’re going to be mechsuiters. You may know all the facts and statistics and stuff, but you’re not thinking about what it all means. Peacetime rules don’t apply. It’s our duty to survive any way we can, so we can fight later.”

  “I guess we can keep track of it and report what we took…”

  “Yeah.” Loco laughed. “Maybe they’ll take it out of our pay.”

  Derek didn’t laugh. He’d never laughed all that much, anyway. Most of the time he let Loco laugh for him. He wondered if he’d ever laugh at anything again—or love anyone again. For the first time, Derek realized that loving someone meant they could be taken away from you, and that would hurt.

  Everything seemed either far away, as if he viewed it from the wrong end of a telescope, or very close, as if through a magnifying glass, nothing in-between. To stave off the sense of unreality, he joined Loco in filling bags and carrying them down to the basement.

  Other people showed up, looting the food market as well, but no one joined them in the cellar. The others all filled bags or carts and left, probably going back to their homes nearby or to the shelter. Derek wondered where the civil defense forces were. This was a Central World. The Hok weren’t supposed to be able to reach this far, or get past the defenses if they did.

  Half an hour and a dozen trips later, Derek noticed the other citizens had fled. An ominous silence descended over the nighttime gloom, and he could hear noises of pounding feet.r />
  The noises were half-familiar, but wrong somehow, like a sound effect on a showvid.

  “Loco, look!” he said, hiding behind a ruined wall and peering over it.

  Loco joined him. “Battlesuiters. Ours or theirs?”

  Derek studied the outlines he could see at a distance, humanoid shapes running and jumping through the streets like miniature mechsuiters. Antipersonnel guns chattered and a big electric cannon spoke with a whine and a crash. A building exploded. He saw one of the figures lift his weapon and gun down a fleeing woman, who fell and lay still.

  “It’s the Hok. Our forces wouldn’t be blowing up houses and shooting civilians.” He grabbed Loco. “Come on. We have to hide.”

  Chapter 3

  Academy Station. 2804 A.D., Old Earth reckoning.

  In another star system far from Oceanus, Cadet Second Class Carla Engels snapped to attention.

  Major Soames, Academy’s senior intelligence officer, had entered the auditorium. Around her, the other Seconds fell silent and stood tall when they spotted the major. The Firsts below soon did the same, along with the Thirds and Fourths above and behind them in the stadium seating. A smattering of alien cadets occupied end seats, but the Hundred Worlds was a human-dominated empire.

  Sharp-faced, handsome and black as night, Soames had a resonant speaking voice. The man always reminded Carla of a vidfilm star, or maybe a newscaster. She’d had desultory fantasies about initiating a relationship once she’d graduated and was commissioned.

  Too bad he was a brainiac. Brainiacs and physicals hardly ever related socially. Even in training, their roles had specific boundaries. They were simply too different. They were so different, in fact, the two types of cadets didn’t even take classes together.

  So, this assembly was made up entirely of physicals: Cadet Corps Alpha. Brainiac Bravo would be briefed separately… if they needed briefing at all. Rumor had it the brainiacs lived most of their lives in VR, or parked forever in front of holoscreens, only getting up to eat or do mandatory exercise. They were probably online right now, briefing themselves, or watching.

  “Take your seats,” Soames said when he arrived at his lectern.

  The Corps Alpha assembly sat all at once, everyone no doubt wondering what this special briefing meant. Afternoon classes had been bumped, and the schedule reshuffled to make room. Engels sighed. They would probably lose their personal hour before lights-out to make up for the lost time.

  As Soames spoke, a graphic appeared on the holoscreen above and behind him. “Four days ago, a Hok fleet consisting of five light and two medium squadrons initiated a raid on Oceanus, inflicting considerable damage to military and civilian targets. They then dropped suicide squads and fled before our reinforcements arrived. Our planetary defense forces fought valiantly and blunted their attack, but couldn’t stop them entirely. Home Guard forces are still hunting down their suicidal lurkers.”

  A Firstie held out her fist, a request to speak. Soames motioned toward her and she stood. “Oceanus is a Central World, sir. How did they get past our orbital fortresses?”

  “Excellent question. They overwhelmed one of the twelve orbitals with concentrated missile and kinetic strikes, followed up by an all-out attack on that sector. They lost nine ships, and six more as they extracted.”

  “For a raid, sir?” The Firstie’s tone dripped incredulity. “That’s a lot to pay. Why would they do that?”

  “You tell me. Anyone?”

  Fists leaped into the air, mostly from the Firsts and Seconds, the upperclassmen. Soames pointed at a boy.

  “Something on Oceanus must be worth the loss and the resource expenditure, sir. The real question is: what was it?”

  “Correct. Their targets were your future classmates. According to our preliminary information, schools for Specials were targeted, along with the homes of many of the students. As you know, Oceanus was one of two planets that host our genetically enhanced potentials. Suicide squads of Hok battlesuiters are rampaging through the capital city of Seaburn, murdering every child they find. Our mechsuiters have arrived, but it’s too late to save most of them.”

  A collective gasp swept through the assembly, followed by angry murmuring.

  “Silence!” Soames’ amplified word quashed the noise like a flyswatter. “We have a right to be outraged, but this shouldn’t surprise you. The Hok don’t follow human standards in war.”

  A fist lifted. Soames nodded and the cadet stood. “If they commit these atrocities, why shouldn’t we? I say hit them back. Bombard their cities. Wipe them out by the millions!”

  The assembly held its breath, Engels along with many others, waited for Soames to slap down the questioner.

  Instead, he shook his head with an air of sadness. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Hok are not our teachers.” He paused to let that sink in. “We do not dishonor ourselves merely because the enemy does. We retaliate proportionally, to show them indiscriminate bombardment doesn’t pay. And, as a practical matter, what do you think the result of the first total planetary genocide would be?” Soames pointed at another cadet, who stood to answer.

  “They’d do it back to us, sir. Projections show that within a decade the Hundred Worlds would be devastated, along with a similar number of enemy planets. Keeping the war limited buys us time.”

  Carla Engels couldn’t contain herself. She stuck out her fist and stood before Soames completed his nod to her.

  “But sir,” she asked, “how is that worse than losing slowly, getting ground down as we are now? Why not hit them back as hard as possible? Surprise them with massive asteroid bombardment strikes? The Hok are fighting against others too, alien multi-star nations and planets. Maybe our escalation will allow those others to counterattack and win.”

  Soames’ tone remained even. “If this were a wargame, if we could coordinate an alliance of all the Hok’s enemies, that might be the best strategy. Unfortunately, many of the aliens are xenophobic, and given that the fastest communication possible is via sidespace drone or courier, what you’re suggesting is difficult. There’s no way the Hundred Worlds will sacrifice itself only to have alien nations sit back and use the time we bought them to fortify. Besides,” he gripped the lectern, “we remain ahead of the Hok, technologically. We have interior lines, and our rear systems, outward up the spiral arm, are relatively secure. Our analyses show that we should be able to hold them off for at least fifty more years, perhaps a hundred, and during that time, many things could happen. For example, a technological breakthrough.”

  “But we’re still losing, sir,” Engels said. “Right?”

  “When your team is behind at halftime, do you give up the game, Cadet Engels?”

  “No, sir!”

  “And neither will we. Take your seat.” Soames advanced to the next graphic, which depicted Cadet Corps Alpha’s organizational chart. Across the bottom, below the Fourths, rows of hundreds of empty boxes had been added.

  “We’re still waiting for the results of the Oceanus raid, but Command has already set contingency plans in motion to evacuate all surviving Specials to Academy, where we will integrate these newbies into the Corps as sub-Fourthies. I know this is an enormous disruption in the middle of the school year, but we’ll handle it professionally, and we will get through it. Think of it as a leadership opportunity. Apply your problem-solving processes as you’ve been taught, and show your cadre you’re worthy to be Hundred Worlds officers!”

  He gestured toward another officer waiting to the side. “Captain Yoshida, Education and Training Ops, will now brief you on the way forward.”

  * * *

  Planet Oceanus, Seaburn City.

  Derek and Loco pulled a tall display shelf against the food market’s cellar door to cover it, squeezed past, and locked it behind them as they went down. They turned off all the lights and crawled behind stacks of boxes, waiting for the Hok to come down and find them.

  But the Hok didn’t find the hidden door. Not that night, or the next two after.
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  By the third morning, it became clear the enemy had passed through their neighborhood in a sweep, but afterward had left it to rot. Derek didn’t know where the Hok had gone, but right then he didn’t care. He was alive, he had his best friend, and they had a safe place to sleep, eat and even wash themselves. The power had gone out and with it the hot water, but the cold water flowed. They would survive.

  As they sat up top, hidden by rubble, eating breakfast in the sunlight—for it was chill and dark in the basement, even in the daytime—Derek heard familiar sounds: a screaming whine, an explosion and the thumps of giant feet pounding across the ground. More such shrieks, rumbles and crashes followed.

  “Mechsuiters!” he cried, running to peer out of the nearest opening. He scrambled from place to place, looking for the source of the noises. “There!”

  Loco’s eyes followed his pointing finger. They could see movement above the buildings to the south, away from the city center. Explosions and flashing energy discharges showed a battle was taking place, though it seemed localized.

  “How do you know it’s mechsuiters?” Loco asked.

  “The sounds. They sound just like in Onslaught and on Mechsuit Roundup. It’s their force-cannon and the sound of their feet hitting the ground. They must be counterattacking. See, I told you they’d show up and kick the Hok’s asses.”

  “If they have asses.”

  Derek closed his eyes. “That’s what Mara said, right before…”

  Loco stayed silent for a moment. “Mechsuiters won’t help my mom and dad. Not yours, either. They’re never coming back.”

  Pain blossomed anew in Derek’s stomach. He slugged Loco in the back of the head, hard. “Why’d you have to say that?”

  “Ow, dammit. Stop being an asshole!” Loco turned and threw a punch, which Derek ducked easily. Everyone else, even Loco, who was also enhanced, seemed to move slower than he did.

  “You’re the asshole for saying that,” Derek said.

  “Ow.” Loco probed his skull melodramatically. “Jeez… I’m gonna get you back for that. You gotta sleep sometime, Derek.”