Galactic Empire Wars: Rebellion (The Galactic Empire Wars Book 3) (11 page)

Two security
personnel were walking slightly behind Mason to ensure there were no incidents.
Mason wasn’t too concerned since crime inside Vesta was literally non-existent.
He noticed a large sign in the window of one of the stores and stopped to
examine it. A frown crossed his face as he read the words.

“NO CLONES
ALLOWED. THIS STORE IS FOR HUMAN BORN ONLY!!!

“That sign
wasn’t there two days ago,” one of the security guards commented. “Do you want
us to have it removed?”

“No,” Mason
said, drawing in a sharp breath. “I’ll bring this up to the council and see
what they recommend.” He didn’t want to cause a scene and the cloning situation
was a hot topic anyway with the civilian population. It was far wiser to let
the council handle this.

Mason turned
and began walking down the busy sidewalk toward the restaurant. He let out a
deep sigh of disappointment. That sign wasn’t the only one that had appeared
recently. There were others scattered about as many people, even here inside
Vesta, were against the cloning project.

Cheryl
Robinson had launched numerous ad campaigns trying to change public opinion,
but it had done very little to sway the masses. There had even been a few
demonstrations against the clones, but nothing violent. They'd known from the
beginning there would be problems when they instituted the program, but they'd greatly
underestimated how opposed the average Human would be.

Reaching the
restaurant, Mason went inside while his two security guards took up a
protective stance near the entrance. They would make sure Mason and his family
weren’t bothered while they ate. In many ways, Mason would be glad to turn his presidency
over to Steward. He'd carried so much on his shoulders since the original Kleese
attack on Earth. Now all he wanted to do was raise his family.

-

Ryan stood
with the rest of his platoon on the parade field of the training dome. Three
other platoons had joined his and were waiting patiently for Major Stevens to
put in an appearance. The minutes passed slowly by and the marines stood still,
standing at attention in their respective formations. Ryan could hear a few marines
starting to whisper to one another as they wondered how long they'd have to
stand here waiting on the major.

“Look up,”
Corporal Hunter spoke in a quiet voice that held a hint of awe.

Ryan looked up
and was startled to see what looked like a battlesuit descending down toward
them. Ryan estimated it must be a good five hundred meters up in the air. His
first thought was that the suit was falling and then he noticed controlled
movements as the suit began to slow and finally landed nimbly directly in front
of the assembled marines. It became very quiet as everyone’s eyes focused on
the battlesuit, wondering who its occupant was.

“As you were,”
Major Stevens’s voice boomed from the suit. “This is a Type Four battlesuit. It’s
equipped with antigravity plates in the feet, which when used properly will
allow limited flight.” He then reached down and drew an Energy Lance from his
waist, igniting it and moving the glowing blue rod through several impressive
movements before bringing it down on a block of metal sitting in front of him,
cleaving it in two. He then put the lance back in its protective sheath at his
waist.

Ryan began
examining the new Type Four battlesuit, realizing that it seemed smaller and
more form fitting than the Type Three or Type Twos. He wondered if that meant
it had fewer weapons and was more dependent on speed and maneuverability. The
suit was black and gray with small red lights at the joints and other areas on
the suit. It looked nimble and quick.

As if reading
his mind, Major Stevens removed the RG rifle from his shoulder and aimed it at
a nearby target on the firing range. He fired a short burst and the target
exploded into hundreds of pieces. He then switched the rifle to a different
setting and fired two explosive shells at another target, which was instantly
obliterated.

“The new RG
rifle has three different settings,” he explained as he took several steps
closer to the assembled marines cradling the rifle in his metal arms. “The
first fires regular RG rounds, which you’re all familiar with. The second fires
explosive tipped RG rounds and the third fires regular explosive shells. All
the rounds and shells have been greatly reduced in size, allowing the rifle to
hold nearly double the amount of ammunition that a regular RG rifle holds.”

He then turned
to his side so everyone could see the twin tubes on the back of the suit. There
was also a third and larger tube in the center.

“The suit does
have two explosive round tubes on the back,” Stevens continued in a lecturing
tone. “However, instead of holding twenty shells each, these hold forty. Once
again the size of the shells have been greatly reduced.”

“What’s that
one in the middle?” asked Private Parker. He'd been looking closely at it and
had no clue as to its purpose. It looked markedly different than the explosive
shell tubes.

“That’s our
special surprise for the Kleese,” Stevens replied in a much more serious tone.
“The center tube contains four small nuclear tipped shells capable of leveling
an area one hundred meters across. These shells are special developments of the
Kivean military research department. They use fusion to create the nuclear
reaction and leave very little radiation when they explode.”

“We’re going
to be carrying nuclear weapons on our backs!” exclaimed Private Swen his eyes
growing wide with concern. “What if one goes off accidentally? It would wipe
out everyone around it!”

“They can’t go
off accidentally,” Stevens said in a reassuring voice. “There have been some
safeguards added to ensure marines can’t be killed from friendly fire. The
weapons also have to be activated from a neuro transmitter in the commanding
officer’s battlesuit.”

“What’s a
neuro transmitter?” asked Casey, suddenly feeling nervous. She didn’t like the
sound of that.

“It’s a small
device inserted into the cerebral cortex of the brain to allow for direct
control of weapons, sensors, communications, and other battlesuit functions
just by thinking about what you want the suit to do. Everyone in the program
will have one surgically implanted so as to be able to use the new suits.”

The marines
grew very silent as they wondered about what they'd volunteered for. Everyone
had a language communication device implanted in their brains about the size of
a pea; this had been done on their first day of training. This neuro
transmitter sounded like something far more complicated and possibly painful.

“I can assure
you the procedure is completely painless and once you become acclimated to the
transmitter, you won’t even know it’s there,” Stevens informed them. “You may experience
a day or two of discomfort as your system adapts to the transmitter, but it
will open up a whole new world of combat information and maximize the use of
the new battlesuits. The suit will seem like a part of your body and will make
the Type Three suits seem quite primitive.”

“When would we
have this surgery?” asked Ryan, wondering how many members of his platoon were
having second thoughts.

“This
afternoon,” Stevens responded as he turned to gaze out over the assembled
marines. “The surgeons are standing by and we can process all four platoons by
the end of the evening.”

“And it’s
absolutely safe?” questioned Private Swen with an uncertain look on his face.
He didn’t like the idea of having his brain operated on and another device
inserted.

“Yes,” Stevens
answered. “I’ve had the surgery as well as my training staff. There is one more
thing I want to say. This neural transmitter will make you and the Type Four
battlesuits the most deadly fighting instrument the Human race has ever
created. If we win the war against the Kleese, these suits and the marines
operating them will play a major, if not the defining, role in that victory.”

“Guess we’re
getting operated on,” spoke Casey in a soft voice, glancing over at Ryan. “I
really want this.” The military was Casey’s home and she was willing to do
anything if it would make her a better marine.

“Guess so,”
responded Ryan still keeping his eyes on the major.

“I realize
this is something a few of you may feel hesitation about doing,” added Major
Stevens. “You have two hours to decide if you want to be a part of this
training. If you decide against it, all you have to do is report to my office.
You’ll be transferred back to a platoon who will be using the Type Three
battlesuits and there will be no black mark on your military record.”

There was a
slight shuffling in the ranks as the marines looked around at each other wondering
what everyone was thinking. A few looked distressed as if they didn’t like what
they had just heard.

“Two hours,”
Stevens spoke, evenly. He then turned and trotted off toward his office, which
was on the far side of the parade grounds.

“Another piece
of crap in my head,” mumbled Alexander as he reached up and rubbed his hair.

“They probably
won’t shave all of your hair off,” ribbed Lauren with a wolfish grin. “Just a
patch right down the center.”

Private Swen
walked over to the two with a concerned frown on his face. “If this surgery
turns me into a robot, just shoot me!”

“You could be
a plaything for Lauren,” Alexander spoke with a wide grin spreading across his
face. “Just think; you could answer to her every whim. I bet she has a really
good imagination, if you know what I mean.”

Alexander let
out a loud bellow as Lauren punched him in the stomach, driving the air out of
his lungs. “The only plaything I want is you for a punching bag!”

“Sorry,”
Alexander spoke with a painful grimace. “I was only joking.”

“Sometimes,
you just don’t know when to shut up!” Lauren turned and began walking toward
the barracks. She thought it might be a good idea to get in some sack time
before the surgery and she was still a little aggravated at Alexander.

Private Swen watched
as Lauren headed away from them, and then he turned toward Private Parker. “You
know, one of these days you’re going to make her really mad and when you do
she’s going to tear your head off.”

Alexander was
silent for a moment as he watched Lauren leaving. “Lauren’s a great marine,” he
said as he turned back to Private Swen. “I guess I just have a hard time
admitting she’s as good as me.”

“Better in
some things,” Swen pointed out. “She’ll make corporal before you do.”

“Great!”
muttered Alexander with a grimace. “Then my life will really be a nightmare.”

-

Ryan was still
talking to Casey about the impending surgery when he noticed two of the other
platoon lieutenants walking over.

“Hello,” the
taller one spoke. “I’m Brice Felton.”

“And I’m
Autumn Guthrie,” the blonde headed woman spoke.

“Wade Nelson
and this is Corporal Casey Hunter.”

“Didn’t I see
you at the Academy on Vesta?” Casey asked. She thought Brice had been in some
of her classes; it was also obvious he was a clone.

“Possibly,”
Brice responded. “There were a lot of us in those classes.”

“What do you
think about this surgery?’ asked Autumn, crossing her arms over her chest.
“This is something way different than what I was expecting. It sounds as if our
brains are being hardwired to the suits.”

“It’s a
logical development,” Casey said her eyes looking thoughtful. “We already have
the translation device implanted in our heads and this won’t be much different.
It’ll give us a direct connection to our battlesuits and should make our response
times almost instantaneous.”

“I can see
where that would be useful in a battle,” conceded Autumn.

“You’re
Colonel Nelson’s brother, aren’t you?” asked Brice. He'd seen the colonel on
several occasions back on Vesta.

“Yes,” Ryan
answered. He let out a deep breath; everyone knew his brother and what he and
Beth had done freeing the Kiveans from the Kleese and their subsequent battles.

“Did he say
anything to you about the Type Four battlesuits?”

“No, not a
thing,” Ryan answered. “He wouldn’t, anyway.”

Brice nodded.
“I’ve only heard the best about your brother, I’m glad to see we have a Nelson
in this program.”

Ryan felt surprised
but nodded his head. “Do either of you think any of your marines will back
out?”

“A few might,”
admitted Autumn as she could see several animatedly talking to each other and
gesturing. “I think when we start talking about brain surgery and what it might
imply as far as these suits go; a few might be hesitant about going on with the
program.”

“We can only
wait and see,” added Brice with a nod of agreement. “I guess we’ll know in the morning.

Ryan looked
around and saw that most of the assembled marines were gradually making their
way toward the barracks and the mess hall.

“I think I’m
going to go get something light to eat and talk to some of my platoon to see if
they have any questions. I'd really like to see all of them enter the program;
they’re a good bunch.”

“I believe we
all feel that way about our platoons,” Brice responded. “We probably should
make ourselves available and the mess hall is as good as anywhere else.”

“Then let’s do
it,” Ryan said as he began walking across the parade grounds with the others
following closely behind.

He hoped he
was making the right decision. It sounded as if the Type Four battlesuits were
going to be in the thick of the fighting, something he knew his parents wouldn’t
want to hear, particularly his mother. Both of his parents had encouraged him
to join the fleet, but the marines and the battlesuits had been too big a
temptation. He just hoped he wouldn’t come to regret that decision.