Scarcity (Special Forces: FJ One Book 1) (8 page)

There was no space station over Eden One. The only signs of civilization on the planet were the blast marks where rockets had recently dropped off prisoners. Only the recent ones were visible, because the jungle quickly reconquered the burnt spaces.

The first blue-green world humanity had discovered had been optimistically named
before
it turned out to be a horror show of monstrous beasts, reptiles, arachnids and insects. Mankind nearly had a collective nervous breakdown at the news that their first inhabitable world was…uninhabitable. Only the discovery of Caladan soon afterwards had blunted the shock.

The lifespan of an Eden One prisoner was between 0 days and (the record) six weeks, with the median being about 1 week. It was the Union’s oubliette, where you were gone and forgotten – and not mourned, if your crime was so terrible that it got you sent here. So there was no technology here, no satellites, nothing that could be hacked to alert anyone that a historic event was taking place – the first gathering of all the members of the
Fallschirmjäger
in one place.

The air was hot and humid, and FJ One’s members all had their uni fabric settings on maximum cooling and moisture wicking. The flamethrowers they were using to clear more space around their landing area didn’t help with the heat issue. But it was the fastest way to beat back the jungle
and
scare off predators, who’d learned to come running as if to a dinner bell at the sound of a landing rocket.

More shuttles landed, making slow descents, using their rockets to blast away more jungle. The Captain was pleased to see that the first arrival was FJ Six.

Captain Chambers grabbed him in a bear hug. “It’s good to see you, Dieter. What’s it been, fifteen years?”

“About that. Since we worked on New Canada.” That had been a difficult mission for the FJ forces. It was the one time that Department 6C had authorized a “regime change” in the local culture. The experiment had been watched carefully by hordes of anthropologists, think tankers, talking heads, and the general public. Taking out the local brutal tyrant had been both morally and practically necessary, and the fighting had been intense.

“How are Charlie and Charlie Jr.?”

“They’re good, real good, thanks. And you, still married to the force?”

“Yep.”

“How’s HM doing these days? Other than being abducted by aliens, that is?”

“Well, that’s part of what we need to talk about.”

Soon they were all there, six hundred of the best and brightest human beings alive today. Captain Chen looked out over them from a fresh tree stump. Men and women, most of them seasoned veterans who would never retire until they were forced to, to make room for some of the thousands of potential candidates hungry to join the
Fallschirmjäger
.

Every one of them dealt with the aches and pains of years of hardship, living like the natives on their exploratory missions. And many of them had the scars of combat, some with limbs now replaced by prosthetics. Lazarex treatments could reverse the aging process, stop the decay of your DNA, but it couldn’t heal scars or replace legs, or undo what years of stress and fatigue did to the mind.

They all had certain things in common. They were “scholar-soldiers,” Renaissance men and women who were linguists, sociologists, negotiators, lifelong learners, and physically fit and adventurous. And yes, willing to kill, when that was the only moral and pragmatic option in the face of evil.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “Here’s the situation as I see it.” He quickly laid out the facts on the ground for them.

Sergeant Cohen of FJ Seventy raised his hand. Chen nodded at him.

“Sir, I don’t hear any definitive facts that would make me suspect potential foul play. So far the Rhalbazani have done nothing but assist us. If they have the tech to suck up the whole Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and put out the Centralia Fire, then I’m assuming they have the tech to conquer us in a heartbeat if they want to.”

Several voices assented to that.

Captain Dorotskar was next. “I think we should think about the Rhalbazani the way we’d think about any indigenous population on a potential colony world. We’re open minded, non-judgmental, willing to work with any, well almost any kind of culture and government we find there. So why wouldn’t we apply the same standards to the Rhalbazani?”

“But,” Captain Chambers countered, “the difference is that we are on a lower rung of the food chain here. The generosity and patience we can afford to have with less-developed cultures may not work if we’re not the apex predator anymore.”

“What I don’t want to see happen,” Sergeant Cohen added, “is that we give them the impression that we’re unworthy of the kindness they’ve displayed so far. They really might be an infinitely wise and kind culture who’s ready to help us progress and evolve. And if we go to some kind of Defcon status, which I’m thinking is what you’re proposing, Captain, then…” He shrugged. “They might just take their toys and go home.”

Captain Chen nodded. “What I’m proposing is caution.
Si vis pacem, para bellum
.”

“But preparing for war can be seen as a warlike action,” someone added, a woman Chen didn’t recognize.

“Yes. But not preparing for war can be folly.”

“What’s HM’s stand on all this?”

“Her stand is…wary. You know the boss. Her philosophy is, prepare for any eventuality because chances are, the worst will happen soon enough.”

There was general laughter at the truth of that.

“Here’s what I propose. We move some stroidfarm ships around, away from the colonies, get some of them to at least set up shop on some remote asteroids. And we design some quickly executable action plans, if it all goes to shit. That way we don’t get caught with our pants down, if the worst case scenario is correct.”

He paused. “HM is on a cultural exchange with the Rhalbazani now. She expects to be home in a month. If the duration of this exchange is…extended, I recommend that be the trigger for plan execution.”

“Is this HM’s recommendation?” Cohen asked bluntly.

“Yes. It is.” He and HM had thought long and hard about bringing her weight to bear on the decision. Everyone present had been through her rigorous personal screening process for potential FJ members. Every one of them here had been mentored by her, supported in their decisions by her, encouraged in their innovations. Personal loyalty would trump personal reservations, he knew. That could discourage constructive dissent, and lead them down a preordained path.

But events had
already
ordained it, the Captain and HM had decided.

“I want to be transparent with you. This is HM’s request, and mine. We have met the Rhalbazani representative, and our instincts and experience are setting off red lights and alarm bells. But we determined that, yes, this is a voting matter. It’s a risk for us, and for our species. You all are smart people with plenty of experience in cultural encounter. But HM and I ask you, please, let us prepare for the worst. We can do this vote by silent messaging…”

As one, six hundred hands shot up. Their faces were serious, some troubled, some certain. But they were united.

Chen smiled. “Or we can raise our hands,” he said, adding his own. “Now, let’s break up into divisions and do some strategizing.” The FJ sergeants began handing out holodisks. “Here are our projections of the best asteroid belts to start with…”

The shuttles left Eden One, their vertical contrails diluting together into a pillar of smoke. Comms sent out the signal that would stake FJ One’s claim to a spot in orbit. From there they’d open flashspace, a discreet distance from any other ship.

Kaplan was about to push Go on their course back to Earth when a bright light nearly blinded him. The shuttle sensors immediately adjusted to dim the screens. “What the hell is…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before debris began peppering their shuttle – bits and pieces from the explosion of FJ Seventeen’s shuttle, blown to bits by a missile.

“Taking evasive action,” Engineering shouted. “Double strap in!” The Captain was lightly belted into the co-pilot’s seat to keep from drifting in zero gravity, but now he added the four point cross straps as the shuttle banked sharply.

There was no mistaking the blimp-like object that had emerged from the light. A Rhalbazani ship was sparkling as its hull released more projectiles, and small fighters fell out of it like glitter towards the surface.

“Going to flashspace now!” Engineering said.

“Hold that,” the Captain said.

The fighters racing towards the surface shot their own missiles. The explosions on the ground blew away the pillar of contrail smoke, replacing it with black clouds. Twenty FJ squads had still been on the ground, their shuttles waiting for the departure lane to clear. Red lights blinked in the Captain’s contacts as emergency beacons went off and were just as quickly terminated.

“Cap,” Weapons said, “this is a shuttle, we don’t have any defenses.”

The projectiles were easy to avoid. They couldn’t move too fast, because of the distance required to make course corrections. The shuttles were equipped with simple weaponry, used to blast away space debris in their paths, which the more creative pilots were now employing to detonate the missiles harmlessly.

The Rhalbazani ship stopped firing missiles, and started putting on a light show. Hundreds of blue lasers shot out, lazily tracing random patterns. Even the most skilled shuttle pilots’ evasive actions were no match for the unpredictable beams. They cut shuttles in two like carbobsid knives.

Some shuttles found refuge behind the battleship, which for some perverse reason only had lasers on its forward hull. Having finished their work on the ground, the Rhalbazani fighters went after them. The enemy had min-EMP guns too, apparently. A fighter would fly at a shuttle, and suddenly the shuttle was floating, dead.

“Captain, we need to go,” Weapons urged again.

“Weapons, I have friends for you, coming online now.”

Weapons whooped. “Fuck yeah. Got ‘em, Cap.”

Si vis pacem, para bellum
. Captain Chen had para’d for bellum even here. A blink of his eye as soon as the Rhalbazani ship had fired its first missile, and a fighting force of three hundred armed drones had flung itself off one of the asteroids in Eden One’s near orbit.

It was a violation of Scarcity principles – to “waste” an asteroid, and the energy expended by a stroidfarm ship to convert it, to make up a small drone army with no provocation, no hint of any need. But a good
Fallschirmjäger
knew when to break the rules.

“All FJ units,” the Captain broadcast. “Help is on the way. If you can get into flashspace, do it.”

“Captain, this is Trang,” a voice crackled roughly in his earcomm. “We’re dead in the water, sir.” Sergeant Trang had switched to the backup comm system, kept in an EMP-shielded box for emergencies.

“Roger that, FJ Seventy. All units who still have power, get to asteroid KL-1, and dock with the stroidfarm supply ship. Weapons, how are we doing?”

“Getting there, Cap.” The drones were fast and responsive, little globes dotted with jets all around for maximum maneuverability. If all else failed, they would just fling themselves at the target, using speed and mass in a kamikaze dive.

Now the little flashes on the hull of the enemy ship were their laser ports exploding. The fighters were diverted from picking off shuttles to fight the droid swarm.

Fourteen shuttles had power and made it to the stroidfarm supply ship intact. Hatches opened automatically to suck them inside the vessel.

“Eng, patch in and take command of that ship. Then use it to push this asteroid around. Make sure it’s between us and the Rhalbazani.”

“Gonna blow a lot of fuel, moving the asteroid.”

“Understood. All shuttles, prepare for violent thrust.” The stroidfarm ship was already deeply embedded in the rock, and its adjustable thrusters had the power to shift asteroids in their course – slowly, over time. Punching the jets hard was doable, but would use a lot of fuel.

They were pushed back into their chairs by the force of the short blasts to push and counterpush the rock.

“We’re good, Captain.”

“Detach from the grapplers. Lift off 50 meters, launch an empty shuttle, and point it straight down at the surface of the asteroid.”

“Roger that.”

Captain Chen opened a radio signal. “All FJ units still out there…” He hesitated, but only for a second. Long enough to weigh the gravity of what he was doing, to acknowledge it, to accept the burden and the pain that came with the decision.

“We’re going to use a shuttle to open flashspace inside this asteroid. That’ll blow this rock to kingdom come.”
Now
he was using Scarcity principles – the use of the smallest possible bang to get the biggest possible boom.

“NAI forecasts that the explosion will hit that ship like a motherfucker. Most of you are Danger Close and will be struck by the remaining debris. Prepare for impact. I’m sorry, but this is…”

Captain Dorotskar’s voice cut him off. “General Chen. We hereby pull a Praetorian Guard, and we’re promoting you. We’re on a war footing, and we’re your army now. Do it.”

“Assented,” FJ Twenty added.

“Assented,” came FJ Thirty Seven, FJ One Seventeen, and all the rest.

“Fucking assented,” Dorotskar added.

The new General nodded. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure to serve with you. I’ll see you in hell.”

“Save you a seat,” they chorused.

“Fuckin’ Jedi out,” Dorotskar added.

Flashspace was supposed to open in space. Empty space. Opening it inside an asteroid this large would displace a lot of matter. So much matter that the megatonnage would turn the remnants of the asteroid into a world-wrecker. Eden One was done for.

“Do it, Eng,” General Chen said. “Blow the fuckers out of the sky.”

“You got it,” Engineering said, blinking the command.

The screen went white.