Henrik is in the first squad i humanities first interplanetär invasion in history.
Henrik takes a few deep breaths as thoughts whirl around in his head. Is this really happening? Are we actually doing this?
He opens his eyes and looks around.
Yes. This is real, and we're doing it.
The spacecraft is packed with an entire platoon of space commandos, forty soldiers reinforced by three heavy, bipedal combat robots. The aliens who decided to terror-bomb Earth are about to get what they deserve.
Henrik shifts slightly in his seat, but he's still just as uncomfortable. He had thought that train ride through India several years ago was rock bottom when it came to comfort, but back then he'd never sat inside a Star Defender-class troop transport. Body armor, helmet, and a load-bearing system stuffed with ammunition and grenades don't improve comfort either. The exoskeletons do, however, allow them to move surprisingly smoothly despite all the equipment.
"Attention, soldiers!"
Lieutenant Johnsson, commander of the Swedish platoon, raises his voice.
"We'll be entering the enemy's atmosphere in just under an hour. Make sure you've emptied your bladder and bowels and stay properly hydrated. The temperature is close to forty degrees Celsius, so you'll be sweating a lot."
Henrik gets to his feet and joins the line for one of the two toilets. Most of the soldiers look grim and focused. A few even look scared, and Henrik understands them, even though he doesn't feel afraid himself.
As the line moves forward, Henrik looks out through one of the small windows. Off to their right, he can see five more Star Defender ships, so the remaining four must be on their left. Slightly ahead of them, he spots two of the four Star Striker vessels. Heavy warships packed with weapons designed to protect them during the journey and soften up resistance from above the atmosphere while the transports descend to the surface.
Henrik is almost at the restroom now and finds himself standing beside one of the combat robots.
CR36.
That's its designation. The same machine he'll be following once they've landed.
Henrik is glad he's not on the receiving end of that thing. Its armament is impressive: .50-caliber machine guns, a 35-millimeter cannon, laser-guided rockets, anti-tank missiles, surface-to-air missiles, and, as the cherry on top, a 200-kilowatt laser.
Henrik is pulled from his thoughts when it's finally his turn.
The door opens, and Corporal Lisa Haraldsson steps out. She flashes him a quick smile. He smiles back and notices himself blushing slightly.
Get a grip, soldier, Henrik tells himself before stepping inside to take care of business.
Back in his seat, he notices that the soldier beside him, Johnny Rask, looks thoughtful.
"What are you thinking about?" Henrik asks.
"I was wondering how things are going to go once we get down there. We've trained and trained, but that was on Earth. We really have no idea what it'll actually be like."
"That's true ," Henrik replies. "But we've trained so much that we'll be able to adapt quickly to whatever environment we find ourselves in."
"Yeah, that's true ," Johnny says thoughtfully.
"And besides, there's the old saying: no plan survives first contact with the enemy."
Henrik chuckles, and Johnny joins in.
"That's true . But I've also been thinking about those robots. We were both there from the beginning when they first arrived, and we've seen all the problems they've had. I can't shake the feeling that the different environment is going to mess them up and they'll stop working. Or worse, start shooting our own people."
Johnny both looks and sounds worried.
Henrik feels a knot form in his stomach and tries to sound confident when he answers.
"They've come a long way since then. Those were just teething problems. They've worked all that out now."
Even as he says it, Henrik realizes he doesn't believe it himself. He just hopes he sounded convincing.
One look at Johnny tells him he may not have sounded nearly as confident as he'd hoped.
"Attention, soldiers. Ten minutes to atmospheric entry. Lock and load!"
Lieutenant Johnsson shouts the order over the noise.
For a brief moment, the entire ship fills with metallic clanking and rattling as magazines are inserted into carbines and charging handles are pulled. Ammunition belts rattle into machine guns, and the hollow sound of grenades being loaded into under-barrel launchers echoes through the compartment.
Henrik glances sideways, both curious and slightly worried, as the robots power up and begin their systems checks.
What if Johnny's right? No. Shut up. Of course they'll work.
"Briefing! Squad One, your mission?" Lieutenant Johnsson.
"First out. Secure the ship's left side. Then advance and secure the left rear flank." Sergeant Patrik Helldén.
"Squad Two!"
"Second squad out. Secure the ship's right side. Then advance and secure the right rear flank." Corporal Thomas Andersson.
"Squad Three!"
"Third squad out. Follow CR36, secure its flanks, and conduct cleanup operations." Sergeant Henrik.
Cleanup operations. That's one hell of a phrase. Kill everything the robot missed.
"Squad Four!"
"Fourth squad out. Follow CR35, secure its flanks, and conduct cleanup operations." Corporal Lisa Haraldsson.
Henrik glances at Lisa. A blonde curl has escaped from beneath her helmet and hearing protection.
He looks a little too long.
Lisa turns toward him, and their eyes meet.
Henrik quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks grow warm.
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches her smiling briefly before she also looks away.
"Squad Five!"
"Last squad out. Follow CR32, secure its flanks, and conduct cleanup operations." Corporal Anders Gustafsson.
"Good! Hold on. We're entering the atmosphere now." Lieutenant Johnsson.
At first, the ship shakes moderately. Then the turbulence becomes violent.
It feels like sitting inside a bus that suddenly barrels off the road and onto a clear-cut forest tract at full speed.
They're thrown back and forth in their seats, and if they weren't strapped in, they'd all be flying helplessly around the cargo bay.
The robots sway so much that they almost look like they're performing a slow dance.
Henrik struggles not to laugh.
The laugh dies in his throat when they hear a sharp hissing sound streak past outside.
"Anti-aircraft fire. Prepare for evasive maneuvers." The pilot's voice comes over the intercom.
The ship immediately begins lurching violently from side to side. Up and down. The shaking becomes so intense that Henrik's entire body starts to go numb.
The sharp hissing sound whistles past them again.
Then comes a massive explosion.
"Star Defender Three shot down." The pilot's voice echoes through the intercom.
"Three? That's the British ship, right?" Johnny shouts over the noise.
"Yeah. That's the British." Henrik has to shout back.
Not even on the ground yet, and one-tenth of the force is already gone.
The vibrations suddenly cease.
The ship stops maneuvering.
That means they're almost down.
"Prepare to disembark!" Lieutenant Johnsson.
Henrik and the other soldiers unclip their restraints and rise to their feet in the well-rehearsed formation designed to make deployment as fast and smooth as possible.
The restraints around the robots' feet release, and they straighten up from transport posture.
"Two minutes. Give those ugly bastards hell out there." Lieutenant Johnsson pauses. "KILL!"
"KILL!" everyone roars.
"KILL!"
"KILL! KILL! KILL!"
"KILL!"
"KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!"
"Henrik!" A woman's voice.
What?
"KILL!"
"Henrik, dinner's ready!" The woman's voice again.
Henrik opens his eyes groggily.
An Xbox controller rests on his stomach.
He looks toward the TV.
The installation of Interplanetary Invasion is complete and ready to launch.
Henrik sighs and sets the controller aside.
He'd been waiting for that game for so long and would have loved to play at least part of the first mission before dinner now that he'd finally bought it.
"Henrik, dinner's ready. Come on!" Mom calls from the kitchen.
"I'm coming!" Henrik puts down the controller and goes to wash his hands.
He can play after dinner.
And he doesn't want to miss Mom's delicious lasagna.
The whole thing starts out preposterous. Human troops entering the atmosphere of an alien planet as though it were a landing of marines on a distant shore.
And only three (30?) robots to do the fighting against an entire planet? The armaments were standard earthly fighting power, man-to-man, but didn't seem to have anything that would face an alien enemy.
So when it ended up being a game from using Xbox, it makes all the sense in the world. Those scenarios are simply of no value if face with a threat from a real alien existence. The very word, alien, implies very different.
Ron
PS. By italicizing thoughts from the narrative, it is an easy way to show when they appear compared to the rest of the discourse.
See which way the winds have blown in the Winds of Time!!
Order your Kindle copy today!!
Author Bruce Alan Humphrey creates a fascinating world where medieval mores and cutting-edge technology converge. Winds of Time tells the gripping tale of Tarl
Suite 16 is a collection of sixteen sci-fi/paranormal novellas and the book represents author Jay Dubya's 38th published work, presented in hardcover, in paperback and in Kindle and Nook e-book formats.
Henrik takes a few deep breaths as thoughts whirl around in his head. Is this really happening? Are we actually doing this?
