The Cresperian Alliance (4 page)

First had come the bare bones of the mission brief; it was compartmentalized, so even though they knew they were part of a larger operation that was now being called Operation Cavalry, all they knew about it was that they were Operation White Horse. It still seemed astonishing that he was involved in it when he had just met the men in his squad and the unit officers today and couldn't remember half their names. They were to go in by low level parachute jump and be withdrawn on a Sea Wolf submarine if they accomplished their mission in time and made it to the secluded shore amidst tumbled boulders and wild seas this time of year. He felt himself tense up when they were told the area would be bombed if they
weren't
out of there within the specified time. Then came the announcement from Colonel Chadwick, the Space Marines commander, and also commander of Operation Cavalry. “This is one hairy-ass ape of a mission. I'm giving any of you a chance to bow out if you like. If you wish to withdraw, leave now."

Everyone sat tight, including him. For a chance to rescue some aliens he'd damn near cut his own throat. This would be something to tell his grandkids about, if he lived to have grandchildren.

"All right. Questions?"

His own lieutenant stood up. Hank Anderson, he thought his name was. “Hand” for short.
Damn!
Scary when you don't know the names of the men in your own unit and you're going out to do or die with them.
He felt pretty sure the other men must be feeling much the same as he did.

"Sir. Platoon White Horse commander, sir. Sir, are you allowed to tell us the story here? I mean, the Brits are supposed to be allies, I thought. What have they been doing to the aliens?"

"That part is classified, Anderson. I don't know myself. Intelligence information; you know how compartmentalized that is. I can tell you that the powers that be in the country have refused to cooperate with us on the matter of the aliens. They've promised and promised to allow us access to them but never have. Unofficially, the aliens have also been mistreated but again, I can't tell you more because I don't know. They are also being forced to provide... services... for high ranking members of the government, or so we believe. Just keep the mission objectives in sight. Number one, protect our own Cresperian, Sira here, at all costs. Number two, bring the three Cresperians being held in that compound out at all costs. In both cases, their lives are much more important than ours. And both are to be done within the specified time from the moment of drop."

Anderson nodded and sat down, looking grimmer than he had previously.

"And now,” Chadwick added, “I'm going to let one of our own Cresperians speak before we get back to the specifics of Operation White Horse."

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"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Sira smiled at the group as she took the podium. “My name is Sira Whitman. I am a Cresperian, an alien from outer space. A BEM, if you will. For those of you who don't read science fiction, BEM is the classic acronym for Bug Eyed Monster. As you may notice, I don't quite fit the description."

Bangler laughed along with everyone else.

"If she's an alien, I want to marry one,” Corporal Jan Wersky, in the seat beside him, whispered. He was a big ugly blond man of Polish ancestry, fiercely loyal to his friends and a force to be reckoned with to his enemies. He would be carrying the heavy machine gun for Bangler's squad.

"Here's what we look like in our natural form, so to speak,” Sira said, pointing unnecessarily at the big screen overhead. It flashed into color and held an image that at first looked like a tall, scaled four armed lizard being with a flat face instead of a snout, set in a pyramidal head. Then the scene was zoomed in and Bangler could see that what he'd taken for hide or scales was instead a pelt of short sleek hair colored as lime green as the little garden lizards he'd seen all his life. Strangely, up close the being didn't look nearly as scary to him. The big bifurcated oval green eyes exuded intelligence, wisdom, and experience. “That is, or was, my opposite number in a family triad, the male. His name was Cntlinith. He... did not survive.” She paused momentarily, perhaps remembering him, he thought. “All three of the sexes look much alike and I doubt any of you could tell the difference, so don't try. But if you ever have occasion to learn Cresperian, you'll find that the suffixes on our names denote our genders. However, relative to the task at hand, I don't even know who those three survivors are, whether they are a family unit or not, and I may not even know them at all other than perhaps having met them in passing in a corridor somewhere. Our ship was very large, as much city as transport. Anyway, that's not important and I'm sorry, for I strayed from the topic. Our job is simply to rescue them. I use the term ‘rescue’ deliberately. I believe they will come with us willingly."

Bangler stood up. She nodded at him. “What do we do if they don't want to come?” he asked, blunt.

"We are to bring them anyway.” She looked down at the floor then back up. “I don't necessarily approve of forcing persons into actions unwillingly, but I firmly believe that if any of them do refuse to come it will not be their right minds speaking. Anyway, the issue is settled so let's move on. That,” she pointed to the screen again, “is a native Cresperian. Now take a look at me."

Bangler laughed with the rest of the men and the few women in the room. He and the other younger men laughed the hardest, he noticed.
Hell, who wouldn't want to look at her?
he thought. And he'd be willing to bet not a few would be willing to do more than look. Would he?
Probably,
he thought,
so long as she continued to act like a human and not a BEM, some monster from the stars.

Sira continued, interrupting Bangler's train of thought. “So far as any of us know at present, we are stranded, the few of us who survived when our starship was wrecked. We possess what we call a perceptive sense, which allows us to tap into the quantum foam, and in turn assume not only the form but the actual genetic substance of another species, either male or female. Cresperians do have genders, as I mentioned, and of course we reproduce, but we have nothing remotely comparable to your sexual unions. You'll learn much more about us later. For the present, there are a number of things I can do to help your mission. Let me enumerate a few of them.

"I can wipe out short term memories from up close. I possess a fully charged disintegrator with a range of fifty feet or so. I have learned to speak with several different British accents including cockney. I can sense when others of my kind are near, even through walls and from some distance away. I can sense when humans are near, to a lesser extent, without seeing them. I can become completely invisible through use of a simple little device I carried in my survival kit. I can—"

"Sira, may I interrupt for a moment?” Chadwick said from his seat up front. Bangler even found that the Colonel wasn't easy to remember simply because he was so average looking and average sized, with nondescript brown hair.

"Certainly, Colonel. Go ahead."

"We have just managed to duplicate the Cresperian cloaking device, and a Cresperian fabricator that came with the survival kits has manufactured some of the more complicated parts, enough so that a few of you will be equipped with them. I'm sorry there won't be time to train with them beforehand but we'll try to get some training in on the plane. We do NOT need you shooting each other because you can't see the ones using the device."

Bangler was again astonished.
An invisibility cloak, like in Harry Potter? Wow!
he thought.
How easy would missions be if you're undetectable? But only a few for this one. I wonder if I'll get one.

"Thank you, sir,” Sira remarked. “I'm very glad to hear that. Just a few of the devices could help, especially getting into the compound. In that case, it's possible that one group might provide a diversion while I and the others with the devices go in, but that's your decision."

"Yes, it is,” Chadwick grinned, “but you won't be going in first. I know you can detect the presence of your fellows from some distance away and also communicate with them. Maybe you weren't listening, Sira. WE are the ones who are protecting you and the other Crispies, not the other way around. We take as much risk as required. You take as little as necessary. Your only job is to reassure your fellow Cresperians and induce them to come with us. We do not want to lose you. Am I making myself clear on this?"

"Yes, colonel.” The Crispy ducked her head but Bangler saw the little smile that appeared on her face before she did. He began to wonder how much trouble she was going to be.
Somebody has her own ideas on how things are going to go down, I suspect,
he decided.

Chadwick resumed. “Then I think we should move on. We have little enough time as it is. Ladies and gentlemen, I call your attention to the screen again.” A map of the British Isles appeared. Within seconds, it zoomed in to the main island. “For those who are unfamiliar with the geography, this is the island we normally call England, but which is actually the United Kingdom of Great Britain, consisting of England, Scotland and Wales. The totality of the kingdom also includes Northern Ireland, but that is irrelevant to us at this point. Our mission and objective is located in Scotland, here.” A pointer moved, then the map zoomed in further to the northern third of the island, leaving only Scotland, a bit of England below it, and the seas around it.

"As you can see—” the pointer shifted to a small circle near the coast of the northern mainland between the Outer Hebrides and Orkney Islands. “This is the North Sea area. The waves run high here with few natural barriers or harbors to ameliorate them. There are a few fjord-type structures in the coastline, however. We'll be coming in from the north, making our drop almost directly onto our objective. We break in, pick up the Crispies, then follow this valley back to the sea. Shortly before and during the mission every attempt will be made to blanket all electronic communications. I don't expect us to cut off all data warning of what's going on, but we do hope to seriously confuse matters until we can make our escape. Besides the electronic interference we anticipate some help by a few diversionary attacks nearby to help draw off the defenses. However, whether or not they take place, we go.

"Bear in mind here that everything, and I do mean everything, is timed. There are no contingency plans and no allowances for delays. We go in, do our job and get out on time or we don't get out. End of story."

Chadwick stared grimly at his audience. Bangler thought he was doing his utmost to convey the seriousness of his statement. He personally believed the Colonel. For all his ordinariness, there was a hard look about him. Bangler was willing to bet that his tunic concealed a set of extremely well developed muscles.

"First squad will be point, doing the initial break-in. Second squad, with Sira attached, will be next and they will make the actual recovery while first squad lends whatever help inside is needed. Third squad will wait outside and cover while the recovery is made, and also provide fire on the flanks while First and Second run for the sub, with First protecting Second and Second protecting the Crispies AT ALL COST! I cannot emphasize that enough.

"I'm going to leave this with the individual squads for now. You'll have all the maps and data you need, concerning anticipated defenses, terrain, anticipated weather—I can tell you now it will be bad—and all other intelligence we have been able to gather.

"I'll see you all back here tomorrow morning at 0800 for integration of your operational plans. We leave the day after that at 0400. One more thing.” He glanced at his watch. “I'll give you all from now until the noon meal to watch television. I suggest you do so. It will tell you why this operation is going down in such a goddamned hurry.” He nodded to his audience and quickly departed.

"Television?” Jan Wersky said with a puzzled expression. “Why in the bloody hell are we supposed to watch television?"

"Come along, Corporal, and we'll find out. Coming, Peggy?” He remembered Sergeant Nunez's name easily. It was displayed on her jacket just as everyone else's was, but her prominent bust drew attention to it naturally. She also had glossy black hair and beautiful brown eyes, as he had discovered after talking to her a minute or two, as well as a first name.

"Sure. May as well know why we're dying before we go, huh?” Nunez grinned cheerfully. The three of them joined the crowd hurrying toward the dayroom.

"The day after tomorrow, sir,” General Salter said. “That's the earliest that the teams can get there. I'm sorry the news of our starship got out so soon but I still couldn't get them there any faster."

President Waterman nodded, somewhat absent-mindedly, from behind his desk in the Oval Office. He had just returned from giving a short speech about the nation's capability for interstellar travel and an even shorter news conference in reference to the returning starship. He had ordered the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, his Secretary of State Sandra Fellowes, and Martin Singletary, the Secretary of Defense, to meet him here afterwards.

"Sir, I don't think this operation is a good idea at all,: Fellowes piped up. “The British are our allies."

"Sandra, you of all people know we've been moving heaven and earth to try to gain their cooperation and exchange data between their Crispies and ours. You know they've not only stonewalled us at every step but now we've learned they aren't even trying much to reverse-engineer Crispy technology. Essentially all they've been doing is forcing the Crispies to improve their bodies and prolong their lives. Not to mention killing one of our, er, representatives, in cold blood."

"But Mr. President, please, at least postpone the operation. The way it stands now most of their top people, including the Prime Minister, will be there at the time."

"Good,” Salter said in grim satisfaction. “Maybe they'll all get their asses blown off and we can get a government we can deal with."

"GENERAL! Mr. President, that kind of attitude is responsible for most of the world's troubles! Please postpone it.” Her dark hazel eyes pleaded silently with him while her voice grated on his nerves. She always sounded so goddamned whiny. He had been saddled with her in return for some necessary political support for one of his pet programs, but he could hardly wait for mid-term elections when he could get rid of her. Hopefully.